Page 70 of Hostile Rival
“Jesus, Dani,” he mutters, unamused now and pockets his hands, his expression tight. “Maybe they knew I felt responsible for what happened, and they understood my room was the bestplace to watch over you through the night. Who gives a fuck what they thought because the truth is, I––”He prods his pec. “––thought you’d be fucking happy to wake up and see me…a familiar face.”
My heart pinches.
“I was…I mean.” I clear my throat. “You stayed with me all night. I know you did, and I’m grateful I didn’t have to wake up alone...in this damn Souza…ugh…” The muscles in his jaw work as he grinds his teeth, obviously angry at my jab. “Being here makes me uncomfortable and the thought of your smug brothers laughing at the fact we hooked up…like I’m your trophy fuck.” My voice sounds so small.
His brows snap together. “A trophy fuck? Look…” He steps into me, and I back up. “They’ve no idea. Dré sensed something, but I told him there’s nothing going on. He knows Giana tried to compromise me and you stepped in. What he doesn’t know is that you were jealous…”
Cocky asshole.
“Your ego is out of control.”
I rotate away from him and continue down the long corridor. After what feels like a trek, I take a left and peer back at him, relieved he’s still there. His footfall undetected in his sneakers.
Finally reaching the yawning mouth of a sweeping staircase, I ask, “Where is the girl now?”
“Oistin took her.” Matheus’ voice rumbles over my shoulder. “She’ll stay locked up for a few weeks.”
My stomach knots—not in an excited way, or an ‘I can’t wait to kill the bitch’ way—more like pity. The ill-fate of being held prisoner by the Souza cartel would bring a lifetime of trauma. Perhaps that’s enough justice by itself.
Shaking off the feeling, I thoughtlessly hum, pretending not to care.
“Oh yeah. A one on one with Irish Oistin. Lucky girl.”
As the comment slips past my lips and I’m about to take the first step down, possessive arms loop around my shoulders from behind.
Matheus’ mouth falls to the side of my face. “Was thisyourplan after you figured out who your roomie was? To makemefeel things for you and then fuck with my head, because I’m a Souza?”
His breathing comes hard against my cheek, his temper unraveling.
The two of us stand on the top step, facing the splendor of the grandest chandelier I’ve ever seen and a huge foyer with its monolithic pillars and marbled floor.
We’re above it all. Far from the armed soldiers below, separate from his family and away from The Covenant. Both of us snared in a silent spell of thrumming heart beats and forbidden lust. The same way we were on the balcony.
Suddenly, I get the impression that’s how he sees himself. One foot in his family’s organization and the other outside of it.
“I don’t have an agenda,” I admit, loving the heat of where his arms touch mine. “It doesn’t matter how I feel, because there’s no future for me and you. You know that.”
“And how do you feel, exactly?”
I exhale and let the back of my head fall against his shoulder. “On edge.”
“Because of me?” he whispers, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.
My skin erupts in goosebumps, and I shake my head. “Because of this…I won’t let you screw me over.”
He releases me, but doesn’t fully let go until I’m steady. Not saying anything, he moves past me and takes slow downward steps, placing himself intentionally in front of me.
“You need to get some rest. I’ll drive you to the villa. It’s a long walk back and I doubt you’re up for it, even if you pretendyou are. But I’m warning you…” He angles his head to catch the defiance that flares in my eyes. “…fight with me on this and we’ll be drawing flip-flops at dawn. Comprendes, baby?”
Even though my throat is uncomfortably dry and my head still thumps, laughter manages to bubble out of my chest. It’s a rare sound I haven’t heard in so long. The sensation fizzes through me and I find myself smiling. Like really smiling.
He stares at me for a second. “That naughty little laugh is something else.” The grin he offers is devastating, the shade of his eyes stunning. “When you’re up to it, I’ll give you that present I promised you. And afterwards I want something in return.”
I follow him, inwardly yelling at myself for letting my guard down. “I don’t need anything from you, Mat. I’m not a gift giver either.” Because there’s no one I care about who’s worthy of one. “Save yourself the hassle and give your present to someone else.”
When we reach the bottom of the stairs, he nods to a few armed men and turns his back to them, bringing his eyes to mine. I clutch the handrail, taking a second to rest as he speaks.
“There is no one else. And it’s not a hassle. The best bit is, you’ll give me what I need without even realizing it.”
