Page 44 of Cavaliere

Matteo’s amused eyes bounce between my outstretched hand and my face. “No one besides my mom has cared if I’ve eaten before,” he says before he leans down, his lips lightly sucking my fingers as he takes the last bit into his mouth. “I like that you’re worried about me. It’s cute.” He smiles.

My chest is rising and falling rapidly because I don’t think I’ve ever seen him genuinely smile like that. And I did that. Me. A girl who’s barely making it by and lives on the side of the city he probably only visits if he needs to collect something.

My gaze is glued to his mouth. All I can think about is what his mouth would feel like on me. All of this sexual tension is making me want to jump across the table and climb into his lap. I bet he would taste like a mix of salty and sweet, just like the pastry.

But I don’t.

I just continue to sit and stare, wondering if this man is real. I’m also wondering what I have to lose by giving this a shot? My life is already in the toilet. What’s one more bad decision? Plus, orgasms might make it feel like life isn’t fucking me so hard.

“I think I would be okay giving us a shot,” I rush out before I lose my courage to say it.

Matteo’s eyes look like they’re sparkling with happiness as he grabs my hand in his. I’ve never been looked at like this by a man before—with so much adoration. “Sono pazzo di te, tesoro,” he says quietly, bringing my hand up to his lips and gently kissing my ring finger.

“What does that mean?” I ask just as quietly. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears as I wait for him to answer.

“It means I’m crazy about you, darling,” Matteo answers. “Thank you for agreeing to give us a chance. I promise you won’t regret it.”

That’s the problem.

I’m worried I’ll be left shattered into a million pieces with regret so far out of reach. I’m worried he’ll be the end of me.

Chapter

Thirty

MATTEO

It’s been a long time since I’ve had something that I felt like fighting for. Maybe it’s because I’m rarely told no anymore. The urge for the battle that isn’t there when everyone does what you tell them to.

I know I’m a fucked-up bastard that’s probably going to hell for wanting to bring her into this life, but I can’t help it. Wren tests me in ways that I love. She challenges me, and most importantly, she’s the first woman who doesn’t see me as a status symbol. Wren could give two shits about how much money I make or what kind of car I drive. She just likes me for me.

My Ma didn’t raise a fool. I know something that’s rare when I see it, and Wren? She’s rare. I’d be a fucking dumbass to let someone like her slip through my fingers. I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure she never regrets a second of her agreeing to be mine. And after all of the shit she’s been through over the last month, I know she can handle it.

She literally stabbed the piece of shit that broke into her apartment. I barely knew her then, but I was so fucking proud of her. And from the way Gio and Enzo described the amount of blood at the scene, they were too.

It’s been a week since our run, with no one attempting to kill me or her. Granted, I haven’t let her go to work or hang out with Delaney. And she’d have Rob on her if she actually left the house.

But it’s been good. We’ve fallen into our own little routine. I’m always up before her, but when she does get up, she has coffee with me before I leave, and every night, she’s had dinner waiting. I’ve canceled on Ma twice now for family dinner, and I know I’m on my last one before she’s barging into my house, demanding to know what in the hell is going on. I just needed to buy a little more time because tonight I’m taking Wren out on our first date.

I gave the lady at the counter at Saks Wren’s sizes that I took from the clothes she still hasn’t unpacked in her suitcase. A dress, shoes, and whatever else women need were delivered this afternoon. I knew if I took her shopping, she would fight me to the death on letting me actually buy her something. But that’s Wren. The material things don’t do anything for her. As much as I love that about her, I plan to change it slightly. I want to spoil her to no end because she fucking deserves heaven and hell.

We haven’t had sex since the night in my office, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t slept in my arms in my T-shirt every single night since then. As much as I wanted to feel her tight cunt squeezing my cock, I knew I needed to back off slightly. It was a lot for her just to agree to give us a try. I’m not about to scare her off because I can’t stop getting hard every time I’m around her.

But tonight, it’s on. Tonight, Wren is about to be wine, dined, and sixty-nined until she’s begging me to stuff her full.

“You nervous for tonight?” Alessio asks from the other side of my desk. We’re looking through more footage we got from some of the building cameras. It’s been bothering the fuck out of me that I still don’t have the piece of shit that shot at Wren and me.

“Why would I be?” Alessio asked it like it’s fucking obvious why I should be nervous.

“Wren isn’t the first woman I’ve taken out,” I say slowly, wondering where he’s going with this.

“No, but she’s the first one to have you pussy-whipped,” Gio says as he struts into my office and slouches in the chair next to Alessio. “I’ve got something.”

“I’m not fucking pussy whipped.” I scowl at him, and they both snort. Fuckers. “What do you have?”

“I have a positive I.D. on who shot at you and Wren outside of her apartment building.”

“Who?” I ask as my body tenses.