Page 396 of Rosetti Family New York
Her breath catches, and I see her pulse jump at her throat. "You're awfully confident."
"I'm right." I catch the coin and slip it into my pocket. "And you know it."
The safehouse appears through the trees, all glass and steel and shadows. I pull into the circular drive, but neither of us moves to get out. The air in the car feels thick, heavy with everything we're not saying.
"Isabella." Her name comes out like a prayer, like a promise. "Look at me."
She turns, and I see everything in her eyes. The fear, the want, the desperate need she's been trying to hide. It mirrors everything I'm feeling, everything I've been fighting since the moment I took her.
"I need you to know something," I say, my voice steady despite the chaos in my chest. "What happens next, it's your choice. You say stop, and I stop. You say no, and I walk away. But if you say yes..."
"What happens if I say yes?" Her voice is barely a whisper.
"Then I make you mine. Completely. In every way that matters." I reach out, fingers tracing the line of her jaw. "And I don't let you go. Ever."
She leans into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed. When she opens them again, they're bright with tears and want and something that looks like surrender.
"I thought I'd be more afraid of you," she says softly. "But I'm not."
"Why not?"
"Because you'd never lie to me. That's more than I can say for anyone else in my life."
The words pierce through my carefully kept walls like a blade. She sees me. Really sees me. Not the Rosetti name or the reputation or the carefully constructed mask I wear for everyone else. She sees the man underneath, and she's not running.
Christ, what is this woman doing to me? I've spent my whole life perfecting the art of staying detached, of keeping everyone at arm's length. But with her, all my defenses crumble.
I get out of the car and come around to her side, opening the door like the gentleman my mother raised me to be. She takes my offered hand, and the contact sends electricity up my arm. By the time we reach the front door, we're both breathing hard.
Inside, the safehouse feels different than before. The summer air is thick and humid, carrying the scent of pine and the distant lake through the open windows. The soft lighting casts everything in gold, making the space feel intimate instead of cold. I can hear the chorus of cicadas outside, their song mixing with the gentle night breeze that stirs the curtains.
I pour her a glass of wine, the crystal catching the lamplight, but she doesn't take it. Just stands there watching me, her navy dress clinging to her curves, her hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. The emerald pendant I gave her yesterday catches the light at her throat, a flash of green that matches her eyes. The sight of her in my space, surrounded by the scent of summer and candlelight, makes my chest tight with something I can't name.
"You scare me in all the wrong ways," she says quietly.
I set down the wine and move toward her, slow and deliberate. "Then tell me not to touch you."
She doesn't.
I reach for her, hands settling on her waist, and she doesn't pull away. Instead, she steps closer, until there's barely an inch between us. I can feel the heat of her body, smell the sweet scent of her skin.
"Isabella." Her name is a growl on my lips. "Tell me what you want."
"I want..." She swallows hard, her hands coming up to rest on my chest. "I want you to make me forget everything except this. Except you."
That's all the permission I need.
I kiss her, slow and deep and thorough, pouring weeks of want and need into the contact. She melts against me, her hands fisting in my shirt, and I can taste the wine on her lips, the desire that's been building between us since the moment I took her.
"Upstairs," I breathe against her mouth. "I want you in my bed."
She nods, and I take her hand, leading her up the stairs to the master bedroom. The space is dark except for the moonlight streaming through the windows, but I don't turn on the lights. Don't want anything to break the spell between us.
I turn to face her, my hands moving to the zipper of her dress. The metal is warm from her skin, and I can feel her pulse racing beneath my fingertips. "You're sure?"
"Yes." The word comes out breathless, desperate. "Yes, Matteo. Please."
The trust in her voice, the way she's surrendering to me completely, it breaks something open in my chest. I've had women before, countless women, but none of them ever looked at me the way Isabella does. Like I'm worth the risk.
