Page 62 of His Savage Ruin
"Nothing important." The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. "Just doing his job."
Matteo studies my face for a long moment. I can see he doesn't believe me, can see the questions forming behind his eyes. But he doesn't push, doesn't demand I tell him everything right this second.
"If he steps out of line, you tell me. Understood?"
"Understood." We walk through the quiet hallways together, his hand at my lower back guiding me forward. Outside, two black cars wait at the bottom of the steps. Romeo stands beside the second car, and when he sees us, his gaze slides away from me immediately, focusing on something over my shoulder. His left hand is bandaged, tucked close to his body like he's trying to hide it.
Marco's already in the driver's seat of the second car, his expression unreadable through the tinted windshield. I can feel his eyes on me even though I can't see them clearly.
A guard I don't recognize opens the rear door of the first car for us without a word.
The car's windows are tinted so dark I can barely see outside. When I slide into the back seat, Matteo gets in right after me, and suddenly the space feels too small. His thigh presses against mine through our clothes, solid muscle and heat. The door closes and we're sealed in with leather seats and his cologne and everything that happened between us last night.
I shift toward my window, trying to put some distance between us, but he moves with me. His arm stretches along the seat behind my shoulders, not quite touching but close enough that I feel the warmth coming off his body.
"Nervous,principessa?"
"Should I be?"
His fingers brush the back of my shoulder, barely making contact, but it sends a shiver down my spine that I can't hide. "That depends on whether you remember how to behave."
I turn to look at him, which is a mistake because now he's right there. Close enough that I can see the shadow of stubble alonghis jaw, can smell the soap he used this morning. His pupils get bigger when my tongue wets my bottom lip.
"I always behave," I say, keeping my voice steady even though my heart's beating faster.
"You're a terrible liar." His hand slides from the seat to the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair. Not pulling, just holding me there. "You've never behaved in your life."
The touch makes heat pool between my thighs, makes my body remember everything his hands did to me last night. I shouldn't want this again so soon, shouldn't react this fast, but my body doesn't care about what I should want.
I reach over without thinking about it, putting my hand on his thigh. The muscle goes tight under my palm. His hand shoots out and grabs my wrist, dragging my hand higher until it's flat against his chest. His heart pounds under my fingers, fast and unsteady, giving away what his face won't show.
"Careful what you start," he says, and his voice is rougher now.
I can feel his heartbeat accelerating under my palm. "Maybe I know exactly what I'm starting."
His jaw clenches. For a second, I think he's going to kiss me, maybe do more than that right here where his driver can hear everything. But instead, he lets go of my wrist and shifts away, putting space between us that feels deliberate and controlled.
"Later," he says with a mischievous grin.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Alessia
The casino smells like expensive cologne and cigar smoke. Chandeliers hang overhead, and the floors are polished black marble that reflects the light. Men in tailored suits cluster around gaming tables, their laughter carrying across the space.
When we step through the entrance, Romeo and Marco peel off toward the bar area without being told, taking up positions where they can watch the room. I notice the way Romeo angles his body so that it's always turned slightly away from me, like even looking in my direction might cost him another finger.
Marco doesn't bother with subtlety. He leans against the bar with his arms crossed, staring at me with open contempt that he doesn't try to hide anymore.
Conversations pause when we enter. Heads turn. I feel the weight of their stares, curious and assessing and hungry.
Matteo's hand settles at the small of my back, and the touch is possessive and grounding at the same time. The electricity of it runs up my spine.
"Matteo's here!" Rafael's voice carries across the room, warm with genuine pleasure.
The Brotherhood has gathered around a poker table in the back corner, and from the pile of chips scattered across the felt and the half-empty glasses, they've been here for a while already. Rafael's in the middle of telling some story that has him gesturing wildly with his cigarette, and Enzo's shaking his head like he's heard it all before but can't help being amused anyway. Dante says something I can't hear that makes Rafael bark out a laugh, and there's money on the table between them like they've been betting on something. Luca's the only one not sitting, standing off to the side with his arms crossed, and when his gaze finds me, the easy atmosphere around the table shifts slightly.
"Alessia." Enzo's greeting is polite as always, and I know he's one of the kindest from Matteo's close men. "You honor us with your presence."
