Page 95 of Untamed

The annual Russo End of Summer BBQ is in full swing, wine flowing, laughter lingering, the scent of grilled meat curling through the warm air. Music hums low beneath the din of conversation as Sicily’s elite lounge across the manicured grounds of the manor like they belong to the world.

I hover near the edge of it all, tucked beneath the shade of a lemon tree, fingers curled around a half-full wine glass. I’m dressed in borrowed confidence and linen; a pretty yellow coloured sundress Bianca forced me to wear. And here I am trying to feel like I belong amongst these people.

Everywhere I turn, someone’s watching. Not me exactly, just... watching.

And then I see him.

Matteo Russo.

He’s leaning casually against the stone railing near the garden steps, laughing at something two girls are saying, both of them pretty, polished, and clearly vying for his attention. And of course, he eats it up like candy, lazy and golden, with that smug look he wears so well.

And still... when his eyes find mine, the smirk shifts.

He says something to the girls, pushes off the rail and makes his way over like he’s got all the time in the world.

“Blending in, I see, Fossette.” he drawls. “Didn’t have you pegged for a sundress kind of girl.”

I take a sip from my glass, gaze drifting past his shoulder. “Not really my preferred form of attire. I’m more of a denim shorts and crop top kind of girl.”

Matteo leans in to speak into my ear. “Mm, but I do like that I’m the only who knows what is hiding under all that cotton.”

I roll my eyes, but my lips twitch like they’re fighting a smile. “Could’ve fooled me. You looked pretty entertained back there with your little fan club.”

Matteo shrugs, unbothered, the corner of his mouth lifting. “What can I say? Girls like attention. I give it freely… until something more interesting walks by.”

“And I’m more interesting?”

He tilts his head, like he’s studying me. “You’re dangerous. And you don’t even know it. That’s the difference.”

I blink, caught off guard for a second by the sincerity laced under the flirt. He leans closer, close enough that I catch the clean citrus on his skin, the warmth of sun and wine clinging to him like a second scent.

“You always watch people from the edge, like you don’t belong here,” he murmurs. “But you do, Fossette. Especially in that dress.”

I cross my arms, chin tilting. “And you? Where do you belong, Matteo?”

Matteo grins like I just asked him to lie. “Wherever the trouble is.”

His hand brushes my waist, just a second too long to be casual. And when I don’t move, don’t slap it away, the silence between us thickens. From across the lawn, I feel the weight of someone’s gaze, hot and unrelenting. I already know who it is before I even look.

Ares.

Watching intently while he lifts his glass of white wine and takes a long sip.

And for some reason, it only makes me step closer to Matteo.

Matteo’s gaze drops to my mouth, then flicks over my shoulder again. “Shall we take a walk?”

I don’t have to ask where. Anywhere away from the crowd, away from the suffocating stares, from the storm brewing in a certain pair of dark eyes currently aimed straight at me.

I nod once. “Sure.”

We weave through the crowd like we don’t belong to it. I feel eyes on us, some curious, some whispering behind wine glasses, but I don’t care. With every step, it gets easier to breathe. Maybe it’s the way Matteo walks like he owns the world, or the fact that he doesn’t expect me to smile or nod or perform.

We reach the edge of the garden, where the noise fades and the manicured hedges give way to the wild beauty of the estate’s private grounds. I feel his hand brush mine, before his fingers slide and lock with mine. Not in a grand, showy gesture, just a casual flick of his fingers, like it’s no big deal. But the moment I slide my palm into his, a current shoots up my arm, hot and unexpected.

“So, how was Ibiza?” I ask, attempting to disperse the tension lingering between us. “Did you have fun?” Matteo went away to Ibiza for an all-boys trip to celebrate his best friends 21st birthday.

Matteo nods, glancing at me sideways. “It was a good trip. Sun, music, too many girls in very little clothing...”

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