Page 30 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

He just laughs. “You’re angry because you lost control, something very dangerous for a woman in your position. You came in here thinking there was a reason to be wary of me and what I might do to your organization if we should work together, and yet, you can’t report back.”

“My father?—”

“I don’t mean my fucking club, Heaven. He knows about that. It’s no secret in our world. No, it’s the shit you want to say about me personally. But you’re involved in that, and you have no idea what that’s going to get you if you breathe even a word of what happened in here.”

“Stop saying I have no idea,” I snap. “And don’t threaten me.”

“I’m not. Just stating a fact.”

Lust and heat rage in his eyes, and I also see cold, hard calculation. He’s a mix of so many things and I hate them all. I try to put the blame on me for being in this room, for letting him tongue and finger fuck me, on the things I’ve seen tonight. But I can’t. Anyone else and I’d have manipulated them and kept my clothes in place. Never in a million years am I admitting that to Matteo Villani.

“The meeting’s going ahead. The business deal’s going ahead. But,” he says, dropping his arms and stepping closer to me. “Don’t you worry, you’ll be right smack bang in the center of things. Being left out will be the least of your worries.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means what it means,” he says. “You want to rule the family, don’t you? But you’re fucking bad at it. You miss all kinds of things when you get all hot and bothered and let a stranger go down on you. Getting caught up in the moment means you miss shit. Important shit. So, Heaven, tell me. What do you think you might have missed while I had my head buried between your legs? Do you think you might have missed my guys luring your brother Patrick into the middle of an orgy and torturing him within an inch of his life in an attempt to find out who’s been selling laced crank to the staff at one of my sex clubs?”

My mouth drops open. “What the fuck are you…crank?”

“Meth. Forgive me,” he says, suddenly very Italian, “I don’t know the jargon.” Then he stops. “Also, wrong fucking question.”

Patrick. My hand flies to my mouth. Oh my God. I drop my hand, stalk over to him, and give him a hard shove. He lets me. “If you?—”

Matteo holds up a hand. “Relax. He’s fine. Just getting his dick sucked.” He leans closer to me. “But I think you see where I’m going with this, yeah? You see how losing focus for a single second can really fuck things up, not only for you, but for a lot of other people?”

Terror, old terror, rich with scars both healed and weeping, rises up and I fight it off. He doesn’t… He can’t know. It’s a stab in the dark, his arrogant way of telling me he’s better because he wears his genitals on the outside.

I struggle to reach my loathing, but the fear is still there. The thing that ripped my world apart, the one thing that haunts... Fuck.

He cups my chin and tilts my face upward. “I learned that the hard way. But you did, too, didn’t you, Heaven? I can tell that you did. I can see it in your eyes. You want to hate me, you want to believe I’m full of crap, a lowlife not worthy of your time or attention, but deep down you know I’m right.”

I swallow hard, keeping my eyes downcast so I don’t have to look at him. I refuse to answer.

Matteo laughs and grips my chin a little firmer. “And that infuriates you, doesn’t it?”

“Fuck you and your filthy sex club psychoanalysis.Youcame to my father becauseyouneed something from him…fromus. Keep that in mind when you’re speaking to me since I am damn close to running the show for my family. I am your equal, Villani,” I say. “I don’t like to get backed into corners. And I don’t lie down for anyone.”

“Oh, that’s right. You much prefer standing.”

I swallow a gasp as he pins me back against the wall. He brushes up against me, that huge hard-on still there, taunting me because… Thrill after thrill rushes through me and I can remember every moment of his tongue and lips and teeth on me. And of his fingers…

“Should we test the theory?” His voice vibrates against my ear, his teeth catching the lobe between them.

My eyelids flutter shut?—

Fuck, no.

He needs to see firsthand who he’s dealing with.

I tilt my head upward at him, and smile. “I have another one I’d like to try out instead.”

He grins back, his eyes half-hooded and glittering with the same kind of fire that ignites in my belly.

But I ignore it. I grab his hand on my face with both of mine, pulling back his fingers until his entire palm is bent backward. I press down harder, and knee him in the balls. Then I push him away from me. He lets out a string of expletives.

Could be Italian. Could be scumbag. It doesn’t matter.

I proved my point.

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