Page 14 of Savage Vows

And now Matteo has turned everything upside down.

Annoyed all over again, I select a pair of panties and a matching bra and put them on.

Then, ignoring the designer items, I slip into my convenience store pants and sweatshirt.

I check the clock on the nightstand.

Five minutes until eight.

And since I have no intention of going downstairs, my pulse increases a little. I’m sure Matteo will have something to say about my defiance, but I’m done with his high-handed dictates.

By the time I’m seven minutes late complying with his “request,” a loud knock shatters the quiet.

“Ms. DeLuca,” a deep, male voice warns, “Mr. Moretti has instructed me to escort you down.”

“You can tell your boss I won’t be coming,” I call back, my heart now in my throat.

“I’m afraid that’s not an option, ma’am.”

The threat is clear, but so is the underlying message: I will be at Matteo’s table, one way or another. And that could include breaking down the door.

I sink into the chair. Had I really thought I could win this one?

“Ma’am?”

“Give me five minutes, please. I’m almost ready.” A lie. I’ll never be ready to face Matteo.

Another knock. “Ma’am?”

“Coming!” In the end, I’ve taken six full minutes, and my heart is thumping like a drum.

Finally I unlock and open the door and breeze past the security guard. He acknowledges me with a slight tip of his head.

Barefoot, I descend the staircase.

My first sight of Matteo stops me cold and steals my breath.

He stands at the head of the dining table, commanding the space in a perfectly tailored suit that emphasizes his broad shoulders and lean strength. Power radiates from him like heat from a flame, and I hate that some part of me wants to draw closer, even as my mind screams to run. He’s beautiful in the way dangerous things often are. I’m reminded of a steel blade glinting in the moonlight.

The table is set for an intimate dinner for two, with a rich red wine poured into crystal glasses. The waiting meal looks worthy of the finest restaurant, beautiful steaks alongside roasted vegetables and thick mashed potatoes.

His gaze captures mine, and there’s a flicker of recognition and maybe admiration in the dark depths of his eyes. And maybe even hunger …

“Beautiful as always, Alessia. Thank you for accepting my invitation.”

“I’m afraid this is a lot of wasted effort.”

When he tips his head to one side, I go on. “I’m a vegetarian.”

I wait for annoyance or anger to flash across his face, but it doesn’t. Instead he considers me. “You are.”

Mostly.“I nod.”

“Since when?”

“It’s been a little over two years.” I remain where I am, fighting against my awareness of him. “I can’t even eat the sides since they’re sitting in the juices from the meat.”

“I see. You didn’t think to mention it earlier when I invited you to join me for dinner?”

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