Page 16 of Savage Vows

It would be easier if he were simply the cold, calculating man who kidnapped me and barked orders like a drill sergeant. This Matteo—the one who is caring enough to cook and shop for me and watches me with such intense focus—is far more dangerous to my resolve. He’s cracking my defenses not with force, but with these small acts of consideration that slip past my guards.

When he glances at me, there’s warmth in his eyes that makes my breath catch and my pulse skip.

“You don’t have to stand in the doorway,” he says softly. “I don’t bite.” There’s a pause, then he gives me a hint of a smile that sends heat through me. “Unless you ask nicely.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Alessia

Oh God.No.I exhale a shaky breath. This Matteo is definitely far more lethal than the man who abducted me.

“Have a seat. Enjoy your wine.”

I shouldn’t. Giving in to him will mean I’ll keep living the same kind of hell I’ve spent years trying to escape.

Men like Matteo live—and die—by the sword.

But watching him now, sleeves rolled up and completely focused on such a simple task, I wonder what other surprises he might be hiding behind his carefully controlled exterior.

The sound of butter sizzling in the pan fills the air as he slices thick pieces of the bread.

Knowing I’m taking a risk, I cross the floor—the tile cold against my bare feet—and climb onto one of the barstools.

The dark, rich red wine catches the light, and I lift the glass to breathe in its scent. “Merlot?”

“Yeah. From Argentina. My friend keeps a few bottles around for me.”

Another surprise. A lot of Argentinian merlots are affordably priced, and from what I’ve seen so far, I’d expect him to go for something fancier and more expensive.

“You said all of you learned to cook. Brothers? Sisters?” The question slips out before I can stop it. The answer shouldn’t, doesn’t, matter.

He glances over his shoulder. “Two brothers,” he answers, returning to the stove where he’s carefully monitoring the sandwich.

The smell of toasting bread and melting cheese fills the air.

“Both younger, no doubt, if you’re being groomed to be the don.”

He meets my gaze once more. “Correct.”

“No sisters?”

His head shake is gentle. “We don’t have a lot of girls in the family.” He sweeps his gaze over me with an intensity that makes my breath catch, heat blooming under my skin. “I won’t object if we have daughters.”

The implication sends awareness through me. Traitorously my pulse quickens. I shake my head, ensuring he knows where I’m coming from. “You need to stop. There will never be a marriage between us.”

He doesn’t respond, and his expression doesn’t change.

I bring my chin up so he can read my determination. “There’s no way I’d have children with a man like you.”

When he does speak, his voice is quiet, filled with conviction that makes me shiver. “We’ll see, Alessia.”

The gentle scraping of the spatula against the pan fills the silence as he finishes cooking.

When he sets the plate on the island, steam rises from the soup, and the sandwich is perfectly golden. He’s even taken the time to cut it in half diagonally. Damn him. “Looks amazing.”

“Glad you’re happy.”

“This doesn’t mean I like you.”

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