Page 108 of Savage Vows

Alessia

The Sterling Uptown

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

The thought loops in my mind. The elevator doors open to the gleaming lobby of the Sterling Uptown.

With my heart thundering, I exit, and Chiara, as wary as I am, follows.

Matteo is already waiting.

Even from here, he dominates the space.

His tailored suit clings to broad shoulders that aren’t pulled back as far as they usually are.

Uncertain? Maybe as much as I am?

The days I’ve been away from him feel like a lifetime, and I can’t help the way I react to him. My body hungers for his, his possession.

The way my thoughts have suddenly short circuited is the reason I had to stay away from him.

When he’s near, I’m desperate for his attention.

Slowly I make my way toward him, and my knees seem to wobble. I offer a short prayer that they’ll support me.

His eyes stark, he walks toward me, and he attracts the attention of the staff.

The concierge’s forehead wrinkles as she watches him.

A security guard near the entrance straightens and places a hand on his earpiece, his gaze flicking between Matteo and me.

The two make eye contact, and the concierge reaches for the phone.

I should have thought about what effect Matteo entering the hotel would have on the staff. And on him. But that he’d taken the chance proves that my comfort mattered more than his own.

Despite the distractions, I can’t look away from Matteo.

His face is stark and haunted, like a man wrestling ghosts he can’t escape. My hands shake, and I lace them together so he doesn’t notice.

His text last night had given me hope—a tiny sliver of it—but hope is dangerous. He’s still Matteo Moretti.

By the time I reach him, my resolve to keep my emotional distance wavers but doesn’t break. “Matteo,” I whisper.

The raw vulnerability in his intense eyes steals my breath. “Alessia,” he murmurs, his voice low, as if he’s afraid to scare me off.

“Do you mind if we sit? Maybe in the bar?”

Since I’m not sure how much longer I can remain upright, I nod.

Like he had in the past, he cups my elbow.

Instant heat pours through me.

I should pull away, but I don’t, can’t.

Without waiting to be seated by the hostess, he moves us to a secluded table in the lobby bar, tucked away from curious eyes but not entirely private.

Chiara hovers a few feet away, her gaze trained on Matteo. Nash looms nearby, blocking access to our table with his body.

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