The pleasure coils tighter, every nerve ending alive. I can feel it building, a fire spreading through me, desperate and unrelenting. I bite my lip, trying to hold back a scream, but it comes out in a shaky, ragged moan.
“You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you?” he growls, leaning toward the screen as if he could close the distance and claim me right there. “Show me, baby… show me all of it.”
My fingers move with a frantic rhythm now, every stroke pushing me closer. “Matt… I—” My voice breaks, breathless, and a hot, shuddering wave rips through me. My whole body clenches, cries spilling from my lips as I let go completely, fingers slick and trembling, shaking with the force of it.
He groans so loud I can feel it in my bones, face dark and desperate. “Mine,” he hisses, teeth clenched, voice raw. “Always mine.”
I collapse back, chest heaving, sweat slicking my skin, fingers trembling—the evidence of what we just shared across the glass. Even apart, even through screens, I feel him deep inside me—the pull, the claim, the fire. I can still hear the low brush of his voice, feel the ghost of his hands trailing along me, the memory of his heat searing through the distance.
And I know, with absolute certainty, there is no one else. I was a fool to ever convince myself otherwise.
Chapter 35
It’s been less than a week, and every second here grates. Every move feels like walking a blade’s edge—duty on one side, desire on the other. Each day is a careful, exhausting dance between what needs to be done and the gnawing certainty that every moment I stay is time wasted.
Pointless dinners where Gianna may as well be a ghost. Meetings that steal hours from me and give nothing back. Thinly veiled remarks about the Points—about how I’ll be glad to leave it all behind, how marrying into this empire will finally let meflourish, like I haven’t already sliced myself raw earning my place.
I’m supposed to be digging into whatever Antonio’s hiding, supposed to be paying attention, connecting dots, but all I can think about is Lily.
She’s just over five hours away.
Close enough that if I left now, I could be standing on her doorstep by sunset. Close enough to breathe the same air, to see her with my own eyes. Close enough to find out whether she still looks at me like I’m someone worth wanting or like the mistake she’s finally learned to survive.
I catch myself in the garage more often than I’ll ever admit, staring at the row of cars like one of them might drive me straight back to her on its own. My hands itch for the keys, for the wheel, for the stupid chance that she might open the door and not shut it in my face.
But every damn time I make it that far, Antonio’s voice saying her name slides through my skull like a warning, dragging me back to the one truth I can’t outrun—if I go to her now, I don’t just risk myself or this operation, I risk her.
But fuck, walking away when—for once—we were almost reading from the same page felt like tearing my own chest open and leaving my bruised and bloody heart at her feet.
The office smells like leather and expensive whiskey—Antonio’s signature rot disguised as luxury. I’ve been sitting across from him for twenty minutes, nodding, pretending to care about import numbers while he talks in circles. Every instinct screams that the books are cooked, but proving it is a nightmare.
“You still with me, Matthew?” he asks, smirking like he knows exactly where my head is.
“Just listening,” I lie, rolling my shoulders back, wearing calm like a mask. Working in the Pit with my Da taught me that the key to interrogation is to know your tells and how to hidethem. Make sure your enemy never sees them or the next strike coming.
What matters isn’t these numbers. It’s Lily, pacing her flat, chewing her lip, second-guessing every word we didn’t say. What matters is that I left her believing distance would keep her safe.
And what keeps me up at night? The thought that Antonio already knows distance doesn’t mean a damn thing.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Pulling it out, Liam’s name flashes across the screen.
What I don’t say is that the only thing I want to work on is the space between Lily’s heartbeat and mine. And that’s exactly what could get her killed.
A moment later my phone vibrates again.
I exhale slowly, jaw tight, tucking my phone away to deal with later. The last thing I need is Cora going rogue—she’s her parents’ legacy in one body, all sharp instinct and inherited fury—and if she draws Antonio or Jonathan’s attention before we’re ready, we’ll all pay for it.
“More Points business?” Antonio drawls, cocking a brow as he shifts in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight.
Jonathan might need to tread carefully to avoid an all-out turf war, but I’ll be damned if I spend one unnecessary second longer in this office than required. Still, if sitting in this snake pit, breathing in cigars and rot dressed up as cologne, gets me closer to peeling back another layer of Salvatore’s operation, I’ll endure it.
At this stage, every careless word Antonio or Nico lets slip is leverage. And we need all of it.
“Always,” I say evenly. “What’s next? Anything you need me at?”
Antonio smirks, rolling the cigar between his fingers. “Business as usual. Wine shipments, tastings, a few… portfolio meetings.” His gaze flicks to me, calculating. “And of course, your wedding. These things don’t organise themselves, you know. Lucky for you, Vera and Gianna enjoy the planning and spending my money.”
Portfolio.
