MATTEO
"I think my boobs are too small for this one," Val complained, her voice drifting over the curtain that separated the fitting room from a lavish sitting area.
"It looks nice, but I still like the red one the most," Allison countered, sounding appropriately contemplative. "Could you stuff the bra?"
Such was the dialogue for the last two hours of Matteo's life.
He leaned against a nearby wall with a view of the fitting rooms, the windows, and the front of the boutique. He monitored their surroundings while Luca sat on an emerald green velvet couch and eagerly offered his opinions whenever the principessa emerged in a new gown. Somehow, the young bodyguard found something to comment on for each dress, whereas Matteo thought Val looked nice in every getup she tried.
No–that was a lie. She looked fucking beautiful. Devastating.
Even when Annika dressed her like a Barbie in a ridiculous color or a gown with feathers on the skirt, Val stole his breath. Disrupted his ability to focus on anything beyond her.
She commanded the attention of everyone in the boutique, and Matteo couldn't deny the strange tightness in his chest when he caught a customer staring at her. She'd peel the curtains of the fitting room back and step into the mirrored sitting-area like the damned Birth of Venus, and every eye in the shop flickered to the young woman.
Once, Matteo even caught a man standing on the sidewalk outside of A&C Couture staring at her through the window. He'd never felt such an urge to carve another human's eyes out of their sockets with a spoon until that moment...
Movement by the fitting room caught Matteo's eye again, and he looked up in time to see Val step through the curtain, her fingers lifting the skirt of a silver sequin gown as she walked.
Two, barely-there straps hung on her slender shoulders, and the dazzling fabric descended into a loose, plunging neckline that nearly dipped to Val's toned navel. The swell of her breasts, modest in size but shaped to abso-fuckin-lute perfection, filled the cleavage.
One wrong movement, and Matteo knew what Val would be exposing to the world. He'd seen it last night, obscured only by the thin fabric of a soaked white sundress. The pert, rosey-brown peaks that tipped those lovely mounds and begged to be touched– pinched and sucked and worshiped...
The image had remained in Matteo's mind long after he left the garden, stood in a cold shower, and took himself into his hand to tame the torturous desire that she'd ignited in him. Now, that familiar heat began to churn to life once more.
"Well?" Val asked, finally letting the skirts fall straight. The fabric hugged the soft curve of her backside, accentuated when she spun to give them a proper view of the dress' angles. "I'm still leaning toward the red dress, but this one goes with the gala's theme a bit more."
Black and White. Regardless of what Val chose, she'd far outshine any other gala attendee. Whether she chose her favored ruby gown from earlier in the afternoon or this silver-sequined number, no one would be able to look away. Matteo wondered if he could somehow convince her to stay home.
He pressed his lips into a thin line and glanced toward Luca, who stared at the princess– Matteo's princess– with wide eyes.
"Fuck, Val," Luca breathed, shaking his head like she'd asked him to choose between saving the life of a puppy or a kitten. "I like both."
Matteo crossed his arms against his chest to conceal his bleached knuckles, wound tight into fists.
Val chuckled. "Well, I can't buy both. Pick one."
"Fine. Gotta go with the silver," Luca decided, leaning back on the velvet sofa with arms stretched over the cushions. "You look hot."
"Well, I like the red. It's elegant. Classy," Allison countered, taking a seat beside Luca on the couch.
Val frowned, flattening her palms against her sequin covered thighs. "Well, that doesn't make a decision easier," she teased and glanced into the merchandise section of the boutique. Annika helped another customer, and the other, younger woman at the front entrance seemed engaged in a riveting text conversation. Neither could offer an immediate opinion on the two dresses.
When Matteo's gaze returned to Val, he found her already studying him, lips pursed and eyebrow cocked.
She'd been purposefully avoiding him all afternoon, not that he could blame her. He'd messed up–bad– but Val's behavior that day still infuriated him. He wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her until she understood the reasoning behind his actions the night before. Needed her to understand that she was not to blame for his inability to give her what she desired.
"Well, cane?" Val drawled, a subtle edge lining her words. "Looks like it's down to you. Which did you prefer?"
Both. Neither. I'd prefer you naked. Prefer to rip those straps apart and watch those silly sequins puddle to the floor at your feet. Matteo swallowed those damning words and allowed his eyes to sweep the length of her body, as if he hadn't already memorized every curve of her lithe form in that dress.
"I thought you didn't trust my opinion?" he ground out, tilting his chin at the fiery vixen.
Val shifted her stance, accentuating one hip in that form-tight gown. She huffed, unamused. "Beggars can't be choosers, can they?"
Matteo fought back a smirk, reveling in another small victory. His gaze trailed down the dress once more, this time lingering on the sinful dip between her breasts. Heat flared in his chest, a base reaction far beyond his control, conjured by the thought of peeling that silk away with his teeth and devouring.
"The red one," he answered, hoarse. He'd always liked red, and Val looked like a prized ruby in the crimson silk. "Imagine McLeod's face when you arrive at his Black and White bullshit in that terrifying getup."
Despite the tension that had warped their afternoon, one corner of Val's lips curled into a delicious smile. "I like the way you think, Mr. Costa. Red it is."
"Yay!" Allison cheered, clapping her hands in victory. "I feel like we should be ringing a bell or something."
"I'm going to a charity ball," Val rolled her eyes. "Not picking out a wedding dress. Yet."
Allison laughed with a signature, raspy sound. "Oh honey, if you end up engaged to that little blonde boy, we'll all be wearing black to your wedding. No pretty white dresses allowed."
Val giggled, light and carefree despite her impending engagement. It was the first time that Matteo had seen her smile at anything involving Ezra McLeod, and it made him strangely grateful that she had Allison's friendship. He'd never heard her talk about having a friend before.
"Now, I wanted to ask if I could run to the bookstore next door?" Allison wondered, rising from her seat beside Luca. "I used to love reading and haven't gotten my hands on a new book in years. The place next door will close soon."
"Oh, yeah, of course," Val agreed. "As long as one of the boys accompanies you?"
Luca stood from the couch as well, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn. "I'll go. I need to stretch my legs."
Good. Matteo figured that the kid volunteered simply because he knew that Matteo wouldn't leave Val at that boutique with a half-trained bodyguard to defend her. Not a chance in hell.
"Great. I'll get changed and check out, then we'll come join you next door. Yeah?" Val offered, taking Allison's hand and squeezing twice.
Allison and Luca left after that, and Val returned to the fitting room, leaving Matteo to take up residence on the velvet green cushions. He hunched over, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped in front of him.
Without Luca and Allison's near-constant commentary, the boutique became surprisingly quiet. Soft orchestral music played over the speakers, accompanied by the tapping of the receptionist's manicured nails against her phone screen as she texted. Occasionally, Annika's accented drawl could be heard suggesting a certain dress color for her client's skin-tone. Despite this dim collection of mundane music, Matteo found himself focused on one sound above the others.
Val grunted from within her dressing room. When Matteo's eyes flashed to the curtain, he saw her feet swaying ungracefully within, stumbling. At one point, she stepped on a swath of silver sequin, and a smirk pulled on his lips at the resulting growl of frustration that left the principessa's mouth.
"Val?" Matteo chuckled her name. "You're not fighting the dress, are you?"
The feet beneath the curtain stilled, followed by a moment of silence.
Finally, Val huffed and peeled the fitting room's curtain back, just enough to peek her head through. A lovely blush adorned her cheeks, and tendrils of her brown waves were disheveled against her brow.
She cleared her throat, feigning nonchalance. "Is Annika available?"
Matteo glanced toward the front of the boutique, where the little old woman fussed over her scheduled client. "Nope. Doesn't look like she'll be available anytime soon, either." He returned his attention to Val and cocked a brow. "What's the problem, principessa?"
Val's face fell, and, for a moment, Matteo thought she might actually decide to wait for the shop owner rather than deign to accept his help. Eventually, she sighed and pulled the curtain back further, stepping aside to allow him to enter the fitting room.
He accepted the silent invitation and rose from the couch, wiping his palms on his jeans as he entered the spacious, mirrored fitting room. A collection of dresses hung on a hook, and a bundle of Val's clothing sat folded on a seat in the corner of the room. Warmth kindled in his groin at the little scrap of lace of a black thong on top.
Matteo ripped his eyes from the enticing sight and focused on Val. She'd turned away from him, but he could still see her face in the mirrors.
"I need help unlacing the back," she finally admitted, fingers fidgeting with the fabric at her sides. She added with a small, uneasy laugh, "Allison must've tied knots in the damned thing."
"Too bad we can't just take a pocket knife to it," Matteo hummed, stepping closer to assess the problem. His big fingers weren't so adept at carefully untying pretty, lacy things. Somehow, they always ended up ripped beyond repair.
In the mirror, Val's reflection smiled at his teasing. Just a twitch of her lips, but a smile nonetheless.
A good sign, Matteo thought. When she'd stormed past him the previous night, he wasn't sure if she'd ever smile at him again.
With renewed confidence, he lifted his hands to the shiny waves that cascaded down the length of Val's spine. The locks felt like silk against the calloused pads of his fingers as he gathered the thick strands to one of her bare, tan shoulders. Their skin brushed at the movement, and he felt Val's entire body stiffen in front of him, despite the distance that separated them.
"Sorry, my hands are cold," Matteo murmured, although he had a sneaking suspicion that she would've reacted similarly even if he'd heated his hands by a hearth before touching her.
"It's fine," Val replied, but her body didn't relax as the moments passed. "Do you see the knots?"
Right. The knots. Matteo's gaze swept down the length of her newly exposed back. Small muscles padded each side of her spine, covered only by thin silver ribbon that wove in an intricate pattern from the base to her shoulder blades. A hefty knot rested just between her shoulders, impossible for Val to reach on her own.
"Allison really did a number on this thing," he tried teasing, but it came out more strained than he would've liked.
Val breathed a soft laugh. In the mirror, Matteo saw her cheeks cloud pink again. "We were trying to make it tight enough to fit my boobs."
"I remember," Matteo chuckled, beginning to fumble with the outer layers of the knot.
With fingernails cut short, he had a difficult time slipping anything beneath the ribbon to loosen it. A heavy silence settled over them as he worked, his fingers occasionally brushing against her warm skin. Finally, he made progress and loosened the outer knot, leaving an impossibly tight inner knot in its wake.
"Nearly there." Matteo pulled at the remaining knot with growing impatience.
Finally, he managed to separate the twisted silver strips. "Knot's out," he announced.
"Thanks," Val breathed, twisting around to face him for the first time since he stepped into the fitting room. "I can do the rest. I'll meet you outside in a few minutes."
Matteo frowned. Even with the knot gone, Val would have a difficult time unlacing the intricately woven ribbons by herself. He would have the dress unlaced in a matter of seconds, by comparison.
He shook his head once. "Turn around. I'll help with the laces."
"I-" Val began, but she didn't protest when Matteo pressed a hand to her shoulder and gently guided her back around.
With Val's back exposed to him once more, Matteo slipped his fingers beneath the first criss-cross of ribbons, slowly pulling the laces loose. Little goosebumps formed in the wake of his every touch, peppering her tanned skin wherever his fingers traveled. He wondered how many men or women had touched her in a similar way and elicited such a response.
He swallowed down the tightness in his chest at the thought, warning himself that it was wrong. He had no reason– no right– to feel that way about Val. And yet... it was all he'd been able to think about for days.
The laces loosened more as Matteo worked, until only Val's tight grasp on the fabric at her chest kept the sequins from falling in a puddle at her feet and leaving her bare to him. When he reached the base of her spine and finished with the ribbons, however, he couldn't bring himself to leave. Not yet.
A small, gaping gap formed between Val's skin and the back of the dress, revealing the little dimples on either side of her spine, just above the generous swell of her ass. He could slip his fingers beneath that fabric. Allow his hands to slide along her satin sides and abdomen. Travel lower...
"Val." Her name tasted like heaven on his lips, but it also grounded him. Prevented him from doing something he'd regret, even as she swayed back on her heels, as if seeking his forbidden touch. "I need to explain myself. What happened last night–"
Val immediately froze, lurching forward despite nearly melting into him moments before. "No," she cut him off, stepping forward. "No, I don't want to hear it, Matteo."
"Valentina," he tried again, firmer this time, like a reprimand. "Will you please have a conversation like a mature–"
"No," she leveled, spinning around to face him. She still clutched the dress to her chest with one hand, but the other jabbed at his chest with her index finger. "You said everything you needed to say last night. You think you know what I want. And you pretend to be too self-righteous to give it to me."
She advanced on him a step, her fingernail digging into the muscle above his heart. "But guess what? You know nothing," she seethed. "I never wanted anything lasting or meaningful. Especially not from you, cane."
Every word that Val spat ignited a fire in Matteo's veins, fueled by the rapid thundering in his chest. Her words were barbed– designed to stoke the storm churning within until he snapped. And it nearly worked.
He wanted to take hold of her wrists, force her to lose her grip on the silver dress, and push her up against the mirror. Nestle his hips between her legs and show her just how much he knows about what she wants.
"It was foolish of you to assume otherwise," she added, her lips dangerously close to his. "Foolish of you to assume that you were anything more than the nearest warm body last night."
Nearest fuckin' warm body. Blood pounded in Matteo's ears, deafening the rest of the world as those words sunk in. Sunk deep.
He hadn't allowed himself to think about what might've happened if Luca found Val in the garden last night. Now, Val's venom-laced words conjured images in his mind– images of her with another man– and Matteo felt sick. Felt repulsed by the very thought of another man touching what was his.
What he'd claimed long ago– although he only just realized it himself. The only thing he would tear apart the world to keep safe. The only woman that he would allow to ruin him.