Page 8 of Read This Before the Villain falls in Love with You

Matteo wipes a bit of blood from his cheek with his thumb and grins. "She has fire. I like her."

I watch her closely. "Do not like her. You failed at the grab. Do not fail at standing still."

"I am standing still," Matteo says, hands raised in defense. "I am a picture of stillness."

He mimes zipping his mouth. The bruise makes the expression ridiculous. I almost feel bad for him. Almost.

I stop three feet from Nora. Close enough that she has to tilt her head. And she does it without flinching. Her eyes are darker than the photo. Sharper too.

Her pulse beats fast at the base of her throat, but her skin is flush with anger rather than pale with fear.

"My name is Luca Moretti," I tell her, dropping my voice low so the room goes dead silent. "You are still breathing because I haven't decided what to do with you yet. No calls. No running. No more hitting my men."

She steps closer instead of backing down. "Or what? You're going to scowl me to death? Because your little helper tried to get rough and now he can't breathe through his nose."

"It was a tactical retreat," Sal mutters from the bottom step.

"You're sitting in your own blood, Sal," Franco says without turning around. "Shut up."

Matteo mutters, "It worked out poorly. For me. Mostly."

I step right into her space and look straight down into her eyes. "Or you find out what happens when you push me too far."

She gives a sharp, angry laugh and shakes her head. "You dragged me into a black car and put me on a plane! I run a company in London. I had meetings today. Now my jacket is ruined and your cousin's blood is all over my sleeve."

"Hey, that blood came from an ancient noble lineage," Matteo interjects, tapping his cheekbone.

"It looks like garbage on a bad shirt," Nora snaps back at him.

"Keep your voice down and listen to me," I order, stepping right up to her.

"I'm not doing anything you say, Moretti," she fires right back, staring straight into my face.

"Doing what I say keeps you out of handcuffs," I tell her quietly, eyes fixed on the pulse jumping in her neck. "Your heart is beating like crazy. Don't forget who holds the lock on that door."

She steps right into my face, not backing down an inch. "Try putting cuffs on me and see what happens. I fix huge messes for billionaires every single day. I can tear your life apart ten times faster. Try me and see how bad this gets for you."

"She talks a lot," Franco whispers from the floor, clutching his leg.

"It's because she's from England," Matteo whispers back with a nod. "They talk fast while they insult your whole life."

Matteo leans over to Franco and whispers, "I think she means it."

Franco just nods slowly, staring at the floor. "I know she means it. My knee is the size of a melon now."

Matteo whispers to the limping Sal, "I believe her."

Sal nods. Blood still drips from his nose onto the marble. Nonna is going to murder all of us for the stains.

I lock eyes with her, testing her reach. She doesn't blink or lower her stare. Her breathing stays steady, even with the frayed silk of her blouse shifting over her chest. The file sitting on my desk back in the study described her as highly capable, but it left out the teeth.

I look down at her, meeting that steady, furious glare. She wants an argument. She wants a standard corporate counter-offer so she can tear it apart clause by clause.

I study the fight in her eyes. "You talk big for someone standing alone in a strange house."

She keeps her chin up high. "You look pretty calm for a guy who just kidnapped a CEO with powerful friends."

I glance at my cousin. "Matteo makes poor life choices. It's a family tradition."