MATTEO
Matteo's blood roared as Valentina Romano spun to face him.
Her hazel eyes flared wild. Her sweet, wine-laced breath fanned his lips, and, fuck, he inhaled her deep.
"Matteo," she gasped, and his name sounded like heaven from her red-painted lips.
One corner of his lips curled. "Principessa."
Val's nostrils flared, anger written plainly on her soft features, and she shoved against his chest. Matteo released his hold on her hips, even as his entire body protested at the sudden absence of her.
The surprise slowly faded from Val's eyes, and her mouth twisted into a cool smirk. "So," she drawled, twisting one of her chestnut curls around her index finger. Matteo's own fingers itched to run through her brown locks, wrap the tendrils around his fist and pull... "My father sent you to fetch me? Matteo Costa, the torturer and babysitter?"
Matteo huffed a harsh chuckle. "Careful," he warned. "When your father started receiving reports that his daughter was acting like una puttana, he gave me leave to bring you home by any means necessary."
Again, those hazel eyes flashed at the insult. Valentina wore her emotions on her sleeve, a dangerous vice in this world.
Despite himself, Matteo's eyes flickered down the length of her body. She wore a sinfully short dress, and the silk hem lifted with every swaying movement of her round hips. A diamond necklace adorned her chest, falling just inches above generous cleavage. Her mane of brown hair fell in loose waves to the middle of her back, wild and messy and unrestrained.
She didn't look like una puttana — a whore. No. She looked like the prized daughter of a Costa Nostra boss, and that was far more dangerous...
When Matteo first arrived at The Casper, it took him all of five minutes to locate Valentina. She commanded every eye in the room. He followed the gazes of every man, single or not, directly to the dark-haired vixen, twisting her perky little ass at the center of the dancefloor. Inviting trouble.
Matteo reached her before any trouble could. He'd pushed through the drunken, dancing fools to find her. He knew he should've simply grabbed hold of her wrist and dragged her out of the crowd, but she'd been so oblivious to her own stupidity, exposing herself in such a public space, filled with enemies and friends alike...
Matteo wanted to punish her. Wanted to show her how easy it would've been for her to lose control of the situation.
So he touched her. Placed his hands on her hips and tugged her body back until his cock betrayed him by jumping in his jeans. Rocked their bodies back and forth while his hands explored, and that only pissed Matteo off even more.
Because he knew Valentina didn't know him, which meant she would allow any man to touch her in such a way. And some traitorous part of himself, the same part that swore to protect Valentina on her tragic eighteenth birthday, hated it. He hated that she'd be so flippant and careless with something that he vowed to protect.
"Did my father also give you permission to rub your dick against my ass?" she challenged. Fire danced in her eyes, but a soft blush on her cheeks betrayed her.
Matteo huffed, the sound harsher than he'd intended. "A principessa with the mouth of a puttana? You'd do well to learn a bit of respect. Quick. "
Don Leonardo had allowed his daughter too much freedom when he sent her to London. She'd become reckless — oblivious to the dangers that surrounded her in that godforsaken club. If the boss wouldn't reprimand his own child, Matteo held no qualms about putting Valentina Romano in her place. Especially when her full, gorgeous lips parted again and launched another verbal attack.
"Sorry, but I don't think I'll be taking lessons in etiquette from one of my father's dogs." Even in heels, the top of Valentina's head barely brushed Matteo's chin, but that didn't seem to deter her.
The ghost of a smirk formed on Matteo's lips, and he took a slow step closer to the young woman. She didn't falter, only tilted her chin to continue looking him in the eyes as he neared. "Better to learn it from me rather than your future husband..."
Valentina's cool, confident facade wavered slightly at the mention of Ezra McLeod, and Matteo took his chance. He prowled a step forward until he could practically feel the heat radiating from her body, through that black silk and the inch that still separated them. "I wonder what Ezra McLeod would think if he heard news that his perfect Cosa Nostra bride had been caught unchaperoned, dancing with a group of men at a club?"
"I was hoping he would end the engagement," she whispered, icy, never ripping her hazel orbs from him.
Just as Matteo suspected. She walked right into his trap.
He mirrored Valentina's cold smile, cocking his head to one side before dealing the final blow. "And what use would you be to your father, then? You'd be nothing. Might as well ship you back to London."
His words met their mark.
Valentina blinked, and, when she opened her eyes again, Matteo saw the gaze of a girl defeated. She took a small step back, her throat bobbing as she evaluated him with newfound reverence in her eyes... No, not reverence. Disgust.
"Let me go find Luca," she muttered, glancing over her shoulder toward the bar where she'd left him. "He can drive me home," she added, as if she didn't want to give Matteo the satisfaction of dragging her back to her father himself.
"Not a chance in hell, principessa," Matteo scoffed, stepping forward to clamp his hand around Valentina's wrist. "We're leaving."
She tried to yank away, so his grip tightened. She didn't cease her struggling, even as Matteo tugged her across the dance floor, toward the exit. "Incazzato, cane!" she hissed, hurling another venom-laced insult.
Matteo took a deep breath, somehow resisting the urge to steer her into the restroom and force her to wash her dirty mouth out with soap. He couldn't remember the last time someone had tested his restraint this much.
If anyone else had spoken to him like Valentina, he'd have already threatened to cut their tongue out. But, fuck, he couldn't touch her.
By the time they reached the club's doors, Valentina stopped struggling. It seemed like she'd accepted her fate and realized that resisting would only lead to a bruised wrist. Matteo released his hold on her forearm when they passed through the doors, and she immediately rubbed at her wrist, glaring at him. If looks could kill, he'd be a pile of bones.
Matteo ignored her death-glare and guided her toward the car that he'd illegally parked on the curb. None of The Casper's valets or security dared to tell him to move it when he arrived.
He placed a hand on the small of Valentina's back, the calloused pads of his fingers barely brushing the slope where her spine met her ass. She stiffened beneath his touch, her round eyes flickering sideways up at him, but did not move away, and Matteo felt something in his chest rumble to life at her silent compliance.
He opened the door to the back seat of his car. "Inside," he instructed, stepping aside to allow Valentina to crawl into the SUV.
One corner of her lips pulled down, and that rebellious fire returned to her eyes for a moment, like she wanted to protest. She was smart enough to stand down, huffing once before stepping into the backseat, graceful despite the absurdly tall heels on her feet. His eyes snagged on her round backside — on the tight fabric that bunched just beneath the apex of her thighs...
Matteo realized what he was doing and immediately tore his gaze from Valentina, slamming the door behind her. He rounded the car, climbed into the driver's seat, and wordlessly cranked the engine.
Dangerous. Those thoughts were dangerous. Not only because she was the daughter of the boss. Even if she wasn't Leonardo Romano's daughter, Matteo would've chosen to give her a wide-fuckin'-berth.
Valentina was young, at least ten years younger than Matteo himself, and reckless. In Matteo's world, recklessness got you killed—no, it got you tortured and then killed—and he'd be damned if he allowed a spoiled principessa to make him reckless.
So, Matteo forced the thought of Valentina, and her slender body and plump lips and dirty little mouth, out of his mind.
Tension, thick and palpable, settled over Leonardo's study.
Matteo marched Valentina to her father's private office as soon as they arrived back at the mansion, and the Don had been staring at his daughter, frustration and disbelief clouding his brown eyes, for almost an entire minute without saying a word. Every time Valentina tried to open her mouth to explain herself, Leonardo lifted a single hand, and she fell silent once more.
Half of Matteo wanted to leave the suffocating study. The other half wanted to remain to hear Leonardo teach his daughter respect. Regardless, he stood frozen by the door until Leonardo dismissed him.
Finally, Leonardo released a long sigh and leaned back in his throne-like chair. "What were you thinking, Valentina?"
Valentina stiffened, cracked her lips open to respond, but first glanced over her shoulder at Matteo. He understood. She didn't want an audience for what was about to occur.
Leonardo frowned, eyes flickering toward him for the first time since they entered the study. "Matteo will stay. He wasted his evening tracking you down. Now, answer me."
Valentina slowly nodded and kept her chin high, braver than half of the men in the Cosa Nostra when they faced the Hollowman, and spoke matter-of-factly, "I wanted to go dancing."
Leonardo barked a harsh laugh, and Matteo swore he saw Valentina's shoulders shrink at the roughness in her father's voice. "Oh yes, I know you wanted to go dancing! My informants told me all about how you danced with a group of men, behaving like a fucking prostituta!"
Valentina sighed. "Those men were harmless, papà. Trust me, they weren't interested in me or any other woman in that club—"
"Non me ne frega un cazzo!" Leonardo growled, the words lethal. This time, Valentina visibly flinched. "You didn't want to just go dancing. You wanted to humiliate me. You wanted to humiliate Ezra McLeod! Vergognosa."
Matteo's chest tightened at the thick silence that followed, and he hated the pity that swelled inside him.
She deserves this, he reminded himself, hands curling into fists at his side.
Valentina lifted her chin again, resilient, and Matteo waited with bated breath as she countered her father's fiery rage with icy calm. "You're wrong. If I wanted to humiliate you or Ezra, I would have."
"Excuse me?" Leonardo practically seethed, color rising to his olive cheeks.
"I didn't want to humiliate you," she repeated, clasping her hands behind her back. Matteo saw her knuckles bleach, saw her nails digging mercilessly into her own palms. The only sign of her nerves. "But I want you to know that I could have."
Matteo's teeth ground together at the cocky insinuation of her words. He had half a mind to stalk forward and force the brunette beauty to her knees, demand that she beg her father for forgiveness. In the same moment, he felt the urge to laugh at her brazen display of disrespect.
The principessa had more balls than half of the made men in the famiglia.
"Valentina, go to your room. I'll deal with you in the —" Leonardo began, but his daughter lifted a single hand.
Matteo's throat constricted, every muscle in his body stiffening.
"I could have humiliated you, but I didn't," Valentina persisted, keeping her hand lifted while she spoke, a silent order for her father to not interrupt. To Matteo's surprise, Leonardo bit his tongue. "What I did was just a glimpse of the hell I could put you through if you decide to follow through on this engagement to Ezra McLeod."
Leonardo's eyes narrowed into dark slits, and his daughter continued.
"If you sell me to that man against my will, I'll spend every day until the wedding ceremony making you regret it. I'll try my best to really humiliate the Romano name." Val's words held cold, vindictive promise. "And once I'm married to that prick, I'll make his life a living hell. A day won't go by that you won't regret it."
"Valentina..." Leonardo murmured, in a softer tone than before. Matteo knew she hadn't convinced her father— not yet. The Hollowman didn't negotiate...
Valentina seemed to sense this, too, for she shook her head and stepped forward in desperation. "I swear it. I swear it on mother's life. I will never forgive you."
Leonardo went still as death. Something like pain rippled on his features at the mention of his dead wife. Valentina's words hit below the belt, but she was the only person who could wield Sofia Iva Romano's memory like a weapon and live to see the next day. Yes, Leonardo lost the love of his life on that tragic day, but Valentina lost her mother.
"Don't say that," Leonardo whispered, hoarse.
"Then don't force me to marry him," Val countered, although her voice shook in the slightest.
Matteo knew he should've left the study at that moment. He should've excused himself without waiting for Leonardo to dismiss him. But he couldn't make himself move, not as Leonardo's throat bobbed and revealed the Hollowman's only weakness. His daughter, grown into a young woman and a force to be reckoned with, but still his little girl.
"What am I supposed to do, Valentina?" Leonardo sighed, and, for the first time since Matteo had known him, he sounded like a tired old man. A Don who had been carrying the weight of the Romano famiglia for too many years. "We need McLeod's funding. His connections and assets..."
"Give me a month," Valentina answered, hurrying to her father's desk and leaning over the surface to take both of his hands in hers. Matteo hastily looked away from her backside. "Refrain from making a deal with the McLeods for a month. Give me that time to show you that I can be an asset to the famiglia. I'll bring in revenue."
"How?" Leonardo's thumb traced over his daughter's knuckles.
Matteo couldn't believe that the boss was considering this. There was no way in hell...
"Let me look through our accounts, reach out to my old contacts in New York, propose a new business venture, reanalyze the taxes on our earnings..." Valentina listed the items like she'd rehearsed it. "I can do this, papà. I'm not just your little principessa anymore."
Leonardo's lips pressed into a thin line. "And if you fail?"
Valentina stood straight once more. Her shoulders rose and fell as she took a deep breath. "Then I'll marry Ezra. And I won't cause any more problems."
A long silence, then Leonardo nodded. "One month. That is all, amore."
Val's entire demeanor changed as her father finally conceded. She released a shrill squeak of excitement and practically crawled over her father's desk to throw her arms around his neck and plant a red-stained kiss on his cheek.
Matteo could only stand and watch, dumbstruck.
This girl — this spoiled, bratty, obnoxiously sexy girl — had Leonardo Romano wrapped around her fucking pinky finger. Matteo felt like he'd been played, right alongside the boss.
Valentina had planned this. She'd gone to the club for the sole purpose of getting caught. She'd wanted her father to see just how much of a nuisance she could become for him if he didn't allow her one month to prove herself. And she was actually confident in her ability to convince him.
Matteo knew better. She wouldn't convince her father. Leonardo was the only winner in this deal. At the end of a month spent in peace, he'd order Valentina to marry the McLeod prick regardless of how much income she brought to the famiglia, and she wouldn't be able to protest any longer. Leonardo was a stone-cold motherfucker who'd do just about anything to expand his empire, including deceive his only child...
She was doomed to fail, and something like pity clenched in the pit of Matteo's stomach as he watched Valentina squeeze her father's shoulders one last time.
Leonardo chuckled, playing the role of a devoted father all too well. "One more thing... no more lying and deceiving your bodyguard."
"Oh, I won't," she promised, a sweet smile on her full lips once more.
"I know you won't," Leonardo quipped, and he lifted his brown eyes to pin Matteo in place. Dread, heavy as cement, filled his chest.
Time stilled as Leonardo smirked and turned his attention back to his daughter. "Because I'm ordering Matteo not to let you out of his sight. And only a fool tries to run from a hitman."