Page 68 of Hostile Rival
He burned it down––for revenge––for me?
I shrug lightly, acting cool when I’m anything but. I shouldn't be here and the thumping headache spreading across my skull is getting worse by the second.
Not to mention the way he’s looking at me––a mixture of concern and desire––is messing me up inside.
“I guess you repaid that favor after all,” I say quietly, trying so hard to ignore the pull of his presence. “My stuff is at the villa, so I’m going to head back there now.”
As I rise, I sense him stand too. “Dani…stay here until you’re stronger.”
I scowl at him, curling my toes into the carpet for purchase. “Stronger?”
“You know what I mean.” He thumbs his bottom lip, looking me up and down. God, I could really use a minute alone to break out of this trance. “The doctor gave you thirteen stitches and a shot of morphine.” He continues. “You’ve been sleeping for hours.”
“And now I’m all good,” I lie, following my sore feet to a doorway, thinking it's the exit.
Rather than getting the opportunity to leave, I end up inside an adjoining bathroom where a deep, claw foot bath sits dead center. Muttering to myself, I glance around at marble slabs, bottles of high-priced cologne, and gold finishings. I bet they’re forged from real gold too, not just a layer of metallic paint. After all, that’s how wealthy criminals roll.
Matheus and I are from two different worlds. While he’s a billionaire playing at being a sicario, I’m dedicated to my work, my low-key lifestyle subsidized by Carlos Blanco.
My mind turns over a thousand miles a second, flashbacks of the night's events reminding me how I’d exposed myself. The one thing a masterful sicario should do is fly under the radar. Well, I certainly screwed that up.
Much to my annoyance, I’m stuck in André Souza’s mansion and the Di Rossis had a good look at my face. God, I need to get the hell out of Sicily.
However, that's not my main concern right now. I’m more anxious at how history is repeating itself. This luxurious setting might be cleaner and more opulent than a windowless stash house in the middle of nowhere, but the facts are still the same. I’ve stumbled headfirst into a Souza den all over again.
“Stay for a while.” Matheus comes up behind me, his tone thick from exhaustion and magnetic in the way it tugs at my weakness for him.
I turn back into the suite and start walking, making sure not to touch him in any way. “There’s no reason for me to stay. I’d rather get back to normal. Thanks for having my back.” I feel hollow inside when I put distance between us. “We’re even now.”
“Wait.” Matheus advances and my heart starts pounding. His hand shoots out and grabs my wrist. “There’s no rush, Dani. Take your time. Stay with me…come on.” He gently tugs me toward the bed. “Last night was full on. We both need time to recover.”
I wince a little, startled by the heat sizzling from his skin to mine. Our gazes collide and I have this dumb urge to brush the dark hair from his eyelashes.
“No,” I say, a little sharper than I’d intended. “I’ll rest in a bed where my weapons are at hand. I don’t want to be in this suite or even this mansion. It’s one thing training alongside aSouza because of an oath, and another thing entirely fucking you and get cozy with your family. I don’t belong here, and oaths are just words waiting to be broken.”
His jaw instantly tenses, and I find myself feeling like an asshole. “Don’t be a brat,” he mutters, uncurling his fingers and letting go of me.
“Did you just callmea brat?” I snap.
He narrows his eyes. “Yeah, I did. My sister-in-law is a mafia queen, Dani, and a Souza. She knows all about danger and trusting strangers, yet she welcomedyouinto her home at my request and even provided a bunch of clothes for you to wear. Sinéad said you can stay here as long as you need to. So yeah, right now you’re being a brat.”
My insides twist and turn, grateful, yet forever suspicious. “Why would she agree to that? I’m sure Dragon has told them both who’s sleeping under their roof. They’re bound to know I work for the man they’ve accused of killing your father.” I nip my tongue when Matheus’ nostrils flare, his expression darkening. “Or was this the plan all along, Mat? To charm me…trick me into feeling things for you, isolate me from The Covenant, and use me as leverage against Blanco.”
“You really think that's what's going on here?” He folds his arms across his taut chest. “You’re never going to trust me, are you?”
I cross my arms too, mirroring his stance. “Nope.”
Matheus visibly stiffens, his muscles flexing as he stands tall before me, processing the truth. “Fine.” He shrugs. Not in defeat, more like he’s quietly accepted a challenge. “I’ll go with you to the villa. Let’s go.”
“Please don’t,” I say over my shoulder, on my way to the closet. “Thisbratis leaving on her own.”
I falter a little when I open the closet. There are racks full of men’s clothing and a few with women’s. Not just a single pair ofjeans for me to choose from, but a whole collection of unworn items with the price tags still attached.
Sinéad has a decent style too. The pale low rise denim shorts I pick out are a snug fit and a white ribbed vest top goes on like a second skin. Shame about the footwear since I’ve never liked flip-flops.
In a perfect world, I would hide my tattoos, but he’d studied them already. In fact, there’s not a part of my body Matheus hasn’t seen. I shiver at that, peering over my shoulder to find him, and craving our connection.
When it all went south, he’d protected me. My chest tightens as my stupid heart goes through something––I’m not used to it.
