Page 121 of Offside Angle

Damian lets out a quiet huff that might’ve been a laugh if he was anyone else. “Get some rest, Vega. You’ve got media in the morning.”

I nod once and turn around, my eyes finding Matteo again across the lobby. I shake my head slightly, fighting the small smile tugging at my own mouth as I start walking toward him.

Bold of you, Rivera.

I make my way over to where Matteo is still standing with Jace. He spots me coming and straightens up a little, trying to look casual.

“Roommates,” he says, like it’s no big deal.

I glance at Jace first, then back at Matteo. “So I heard,” I reply evenly.

Matteo’s smirk widens, that familiar cocky glint returning to his eyes. “Problem?”

I hold his gaze for a second. “Not for me.”

His smirk flickers just slightly at my tone.

Before either of us can say anything else, Cole walks past and catches the tail end of the conversation. He doesn’t even slow down as he calls over his shoulder. “Walls are thin, Rivera. I swear to god.”

Matteo doesn’t miss a beat. “Shut up, Soroka.”

I raise an eyebrow as I reach out and slowly hook one finger through the belt loop of his jeans, gently tugging him in the direction of the elevators. “Soroka?”

Matteo lets me steer him without even flinching this time. He falls into step beside me easily. “That’s what Viktor calls him,” he explains as we walk. “Apparently it means magpie.”

I hum in acknowledgment, keeping my finger hooked in his jeans as we reach the elevators. I press the button and glance sideways at him. “Fitting,” I murmur.

We get to the room without running into anyone else. I swipe the key card and push the door open, letting Matteo walk in first.

“Go shower,” I tell him as I drop my bag on one of the beds. “I’ll unpack.”

Matteo raises an eyebrow but doesn’t argue. He grabs his stuff and disappears into the bathroom while I start unpacking both our bags. I hate leaving clothes crumpled in luggage — they always come out wrinkled and it drives me crazy. I move methodically, hanging up shirts and folding everything else into the drawers.

I’m almost done when the bathroom door opens again.

Matteo steps out with a towel wrapped low around his waist, water still clinging to his skin and hair damp and messy. He leans against the doorway for a second, watching me.

“So, hypothetically…” he starts.

I glance up from the bag I’m finishing.

“That is never a good start with you.”

Matteo scowls, but pushes forward anyway. “Hypothetically,” he continues, “if someone wanted to try something Luca mentioned—”

My hands still on the bag.

Matteo takes a breath, then says it outright. “I want you to tie me up.”

I straighten slowly and turn to face him fully. He looks a little nervous, but there’s determination in his eyes too.

I make a very clear mental note to thank Luca Moreau by making sure he never breathes in Matteo’s direction again.

I keep my expression calm as I study him.

“Oh?” I say, tilting my head slightly. I want to hear him keep going. I want to hear exactly how he’s been thinking about this.

Matteo shifts his weight, the towel slipping just a little lower on his hips.