A heavy silence hung between Grace and Matteo after the Italian woman had left.
Grace, because she really couldn’t think what to say.
Matteo, because he seemed to be waiting to take his cue from whatever she decided to do next.
She finally drew in a ragged breath. “I’m just the manager of a bookstore. I don’t know you, nor do I want to be involved in or understand your world.” She gave a rueful smile. “I’m also not a tall and leggy blonde.”
“I don’t want a tall and leggy blonde. I want you.”
She looked at him searchingly for several tense seconds, noting the possessive glitter of his eyes as he gazed back at her, before shaking her head. “Matteo—”
“You feel this between us, don’t you?” Matteo moved his hand beneath the table until his fingers gripped the top of one of her slender thighs. “Don’t you?” he compelled when he felt the trembling of her flesh beneath his palm.
Her expression was pained. “I do, but I can’t explain why I do…”
“Neither can I,” he acknowledged abruptly. “Only that it’s there, just below the surface, and between us all the time. It was there from the moment we looked at each other in the bookstore earlier. It became more intense the moment I first touched you, and it went off the charts when I kissed you. When we kissed each other.”
“Yes…” she acknowledged shakily.
“Forget who I am,” he pleaded. “Let’s just have dinner and spend an enjoyable evening getting to know who we can be together.”
“I can’t forget—”
Matteo silenced her by once again pressing his mouth against hers. Lips that trembled beneath his at first before she gave a low groan and her lips parted to allow him to deepen the kiss.
Matteo forgot their surroundings, the other diners in the restaurant, as he curved his other arm about her waist and pulled her in tightly against him. His whole attention was now focused on kissing Grace, on convincing her not to walk away from him.
He had never wanted anything, never craved anyone, as much as he now wanted Grace. As much as he wanted to keep her in his life. For however long she would let him.
Fuck Leon Brunelli.
To hell with this arranged marriage to the other man’s daughter; nothing had been officially announced yet.
Damn tomorrow and what it might bring.
Grace, and the way she made him feel, possessive and at the same time blessed to have even met her, was all that mattered to Matteo right now.
The cosmos might be fucking with him right now, but he had spent the past nine years doing what he was told in order to protect Bella. His sister no longer needed his protection, and Matteo would do whatever he needed to in order to keep Grace.
The perfume of her arousal invaded his senses once again, dispelling the last of his caution. Her bare skin felt silky soft beneath his fingers when he moved the material of her skirt out of his way, allowing him the freedom to caress and explore that bared flesh. Her panties seemed to be nothing more than a piece of lace through which Matteo could feel the heat of her pussy, that scrap of lace easily pushed aside beneath his questing fingertips.
His cock, already half hard just from kissing her, now surged to full and engorged attention as he stroked along her moist and swollen pussy lips. Before seeking out and finding the hardened nubbin nestled beneath its protective hood amongst the dampness of her curls.
Matteo pushed back that hood, feeling Grace’s tension as his fingers stroked against the sensitive nubbin beneath until he felt it swell bigger. He pressed harder, his fingers quickening, until seconds later, he was rewarded by Grace’s breathy groan against his lips followed by the gush of her juices onto his fingers and palm as she climaxed.
They were both panting heavily when Matteo rested his forehead against hers. “We can be and do whatever the hell we want together,” he firmly answered her earlier protest. “Can’t we?”
Grace’s head felt too befuddled for her to be able to think clearly, and her body was a melted puddle of satiated pleasure.
What on earth…?
She had just physically climaxed in a public restaurant!
Grace quickly glanced around to see if anyone was looking at them. If anyone knew what she had just done. What they had just done, because she certainly hadn’t done that on her own.
“No one is taking any interest in us whatsoever,” Matteo assured huskily as he pulled his fingers from inside her panties, holding her gaze with his as he then raised them to his mouth and slowly lick off the slickness of her juices. “Mm, delicious.”
Grace watched him in mute horror. She didn’t behave like this. Never brought attention to herself.
What sort of hold did this man have on her that she could have behaved with such wanton abandon in a public place?
A wanton abandon her body ached for again as she watched Matteo licking his fingers until he had tasted and swallowed all her release.
What sort of influence, or fear, did Matteo Zalotti have over other people that they weren’t even looking at the two of them even a little bit askance?
“That has nothing to do with who I am. It’s just secluded and shadowed in this corner,” Matteo rasped, alerting Grace to the fact that she had spoken that last thought out loud.
Her mouth twisted. “Do you always sit at this table for that reason?”
His eyes narrowed at her scornful tone. “You heard Mama. I haven’t eaten here in years. All I did was ask Mama for a romantic table for two.”
No wonder Mama Benito had smiled at her so coyly when the two of them arrived!
“I’m leaving.” Grace turned to pick up her bag and sling the strap over her shoulder.
Matteo placed a hand on her arm. “We haven’t eaten yet.”
Grace’s glare shot daggers at him, heated embarrassment burning her cheeks. “Oh, I think one of us just had his first course,” she reminded him.
“I’m sorry. I just needed to touch you—”
“I’m not interested in hearing why you did what you did.” She slid along the bench seat until she was out of the booth and able to stand. Except her knees gave way beneath her the moment she tried to put her weight on them, causing her to grab hold of the edge of the table to regain her balance.
“Don’t attempt to contact me again,” she warned once she felt steady enough to let go of the table.
She forced herself to stand straight, not looking at Matteo again before turning on her heel and walking out of the restaurant with all the dignity she could muster after what had just happened.
The hot tears began to fall immediately after she had climbed into the back of the cab she managed to flag down and given the driver her address.
Chapter Six
“You’ve seemed…preoccupied these past couple of days?” Bryce Steele, Matteo’s future brother-in-law, drawled as the two men sat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen of Bryce’s penthouse apartment drinking single malt whisky. They were already halfway down the bottle—or, at least, Matteo was. “I’m not sure if it’s because you’re trying to think of how to off me and hide the body where no one can find it, or if it’s something completely unrelated to the fact I’m marrying your sister in two days’ time.”
Matteo glanced bleakly at the other man. “If you were trying to be funny, I assure you talking about me offing you wasn’t the way to go about it.” It was three days since Grace had walked out of the restaurant after firmly stating she didn’t want to see him again.
They had been three bloody awful days as far as Matteo was concerned. Saturday and Sunday had dragged by, hour after hour, minute after minute, despite his having broken up the monotony by agreeing to have Sunday lunch yesterday with Bella and Bryce and the rest of the Steele family. He had spent the whole time feeling alone and lonely in the middle of a crowd.
Today had been busy with work, but still Matteo had counted the hours in minutes and then seconds, until he couldn’t stand his own company a moment longer and had de
cided to visit Bella and Bryce at their apartment this evening. Unfortunately, he had forgotten that his sister and the other Steele wives and partners were out this evening on Bella’s hen night, which meant only Bryce was home.
The other man studied him closely. “You’ve met someone. I know the look, buddy,” he derided before Matteo could protest. “I fought my attraction to your sister for several weeks until I couldn’t fight it, or her, any longer.”
“Why did you fight it?” Matteo prompted curiously.
The other man shrugged muscled shoulders shown to advantage in a body-hugging black T-shirt. “I didn’t think I was right for her. She was a cop, and my years in the army weren’t exactly without their share of horror and bloodshed, some of it way under the radar. Some of the work I now do for Steele Protectors is…questionable.” He chuckled. “Of course, at the time, I didn’t realize she was the sister of a Mafia don.”
Matteo grimaced. “How did you feel about that once you did know?”
Bryce shrugged. “I only knew of you by reputation.”
He winced. “Which wasn’t good.”
“I prefer to decide for myself if I like a person. I like you, and I’ve been hearing nothing but good things about you from Nikolai the past few days. Everyone seems pleased with the direction the Zalotti organization and the Markovic bratva are now going.”
Matteo enjoyed the burn as he threw more whisky to the back of his throat and swallowed it down before answering the other man. “And what if all you knew or had read of me was the years previous to that. The women. The wild parties. Followed by nine years of seemingly ruthless despotism as head of the Zalotti family.”
“That last bit wasn’t you.”
Matteo rose restlessly to his feet. “But the women and wild parties previous to that was definitely all me.”
Bryce shrugged. “We’re all a little wild in our early to midtwenties.”
Matteo gave a humorless laugh. “Grace is in her twenties, and I don’t think she knows what wild is.” She had taken great pains to point that out to him.
“Her name’s Grace?”
Too late, Matteo realized he had given a name to his emotional torment. “My life, who I am, is completely alien to her. She lives alone with her fucking cat, for God’s sake.”
“Bella wants a cat,” Bryce mused. “She says she misses that monster cat, Max, who lived in the house next door to her.”
“Grace’s cat is named Mr. Darcy. Yeah, I know,” he sighed when he saw Bryce bite his top lip to stop himself from smiling. “She’s obviously a romantic, and I’m… Well, what she named her cat emphasizes how totally unsuited we are for each other.”
“But.”
“But I want to be with her again, ache for it, as much as I need to breathe air to fucking live!” Matteo ran an agitated hand through his hair.
“If she feels the same way…”
“She walked out on me in the middle of our first date on Friday evening.” Ordinarily, Matteo wouldn’t spill his guts to Bryce like this. He’d only known the other man a couple of weeks. But he needed to talk to someone, or he was going to go not so quietly out of his mind.
“Why?” Bryce pressed again.
He grimaced. “I…couldn’t keep my hands to myself.”
“In what way?”
“In every way,” he groaned.
The other man raised one eyebrow. “You mean…?”
“Yes.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes,” Matteo confirmed through gritted teeth.
“On a first date in the middle of a public restaurant?”
“It was more of a booth off to the side— Yes,” he grated as Bryce continued to look at him, his brows raised.
“You have some balls,” the other man admired.
“Painfully aching ones.”
Bryce sobered. “You also need to apologize.”
“I did. She still walked out.”
“Apologize a second time.”
“She said she didn’t want to see me again.”
“Bella’s probably said that to me a time or two in the past too, but we’re still getting married in two days’ time,” Bryce mused. “Which,” he sobered, “behooves me to mention the agreement I know you have with Leon Brunelli and which will no doubt become fact once he arrives on Friday. Bella doesn’t know anything about that, by the way, and I would rather it remain that way. At least until after we’ve escaped on our honeymoon.” He grimaced. “She would kick your arse and refuse to go anywhere if she knew you were sacrificing your future for the family. Again. After the things the two of you suffered through during the past nine years, she wants you to be happy, to marry for love, not expedience.”
“It’s because of the last nine years that I need Brunelli’s endorsement to help my standing with the other families.”
“And what about Grace?”
“I told you, she doesn’t want me.”
“No, you told me you’d behaved inappropriately in a restaurant— I’m still shocked about that, by the way.” His mocking grin said the opposite. “Did Grace decide to walk out during or after you touched her inappropriately?”
“You’re deliberately trying to embarrass me,” Matteo muttered.
The other man chuckled. “You did it, so live with it!”
“After,” he mumbled.
Bryce nodded. “Which means she’s doubly embarrassed. Which now means you need to get on your knees and grovel. A lot. A bunch of flowers in your hand while you do it might help.”
“Are you giving my brother advice on how to apologize to a woman?” Bella teased as she entered the kitchen.
Bryce grinned. “You’re home early, love.” He curved his arm for Bella to step into, the two of them kissing long and deeply.
“I missed you,” Bella murmured huskily.
“I missed you too.”
“Would the two of you like me to leave?” Matteo drawled.
“No,” Bella objected.
“Yes,” Bryce said at the same time. “I can’t be too bad at this romance thing. I managed to hook you, didn’t I?” He grinned at Bella.
She chuckled. “I think that was more luck than judgment.” She turned to Matteo. “Am I right in thinking you have someone in your life? I know.” She brightened excitedly. “You can bring her to the wedding,” she suggested before Matteo could answer.
“Yeah, because inviting a woman you just met to a family wedding isn’t in the least premature,” Bryce derided. “No pressure at all.” He chuckled when Bella punched him playfully on the shoulder. “Just saying.”
“Well, don’t.” She turned back to Matteo. “Think about it, hmm?”
Matteo thought of little else but Grace on the drive back to his estate. Luca and Antonio followed in their black SUV. They had made their displeasure clear regarding his refusing to take them with him on his date with Grace on Friday evening. As a result, they had insisted on accompanying him out to lunch yesterday and again to Bella and Bryce’s tonight.
Matteo couldn’t exactly blame them after the way he’d been completely isolated for nine years, but those years of having his every move scrutinized or decided for him meant Matteo now enjoyed the freedom of being able to do whatever the hell he pleased. Which he accepted wasn’t always sensible when he was visibly known to be the head of the Zalotti organization. Admittedly, there was no longer any danger from the Russians, but the Romanians and other criminal gangs fast rising in the city were always looking for ways to advance their own organization. Taking out the head of the London Italian Mafia would certainly do that.
Yet another reason, to add to all the others, why Matteo shouldn’t even be thinking about trying to see Grace again.
“Don’t look now, but there seems to be a bouquet of yellow roses walking down the shop!”
“What?” Grace frowned her irritation as she looked up from where she was once again marking books off the list before placing them on the shelves.
Carla nodded
toward the front of the store. “I’m guessing there’s at least fifty roses in that bouquet.”
Grace followed her gaze. She would have said twice that amount.
The long legs in tailored trousers she could see striding purposefully toward them beneath the bouquet looked all too familiar.
She’d had a horrible weekend, despite trying to keep busy.
Saturday was spent working in the bookstore, and Saturday evening, she had belatedly done her weekly food shopping. Sunday was laundry and housework day. Being back at work yesterday should have eased some of her tension, but instead, the time had dragged. Today wasn’t turning out to be much better.
Because none of those things had stopped her from thinking about Matteo Zalotti and their intimacy on Friday evening.
An intimacy that still made her blush.
Bad enough that Matteo had touched her in that way. Worse—ten times worse!—that she had responded so quickly and wantonly.
If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the caress of those long and sure fingers against her clit, stroking, pressing, until she had no longer been able to hold back her release.
In the same way she couldn’t deny the heat that now gathered between her thighs just from thinking of that intimacy.
And now Matteo—because she had no doubt it was him behind that huge bouquet of yellow roses—had the nerve to think he could just turn up here, the flowers obviously meant as an apology, and she would forgive and forget what had happened.
How could Grace forgive something she had allowed to happen?
She could have denied Matteo intimate access. Could have stopped his caressing fingers with a few cutting words. She had no doubt Matteo would have listened to her. Instead, she had reveled in that intimacy until her climax had been inevitable.
Grace had had plenty of time to think since Friday evening, and she now accepted she was as much to blame for what happened as Matteo was.
Which still didn’t mean she wanted to see him again!
There were reasons, so many of them, why that shouldn’t happen.
“Take this and put the books on the shelves for me, would you?” She lifted and handed over the box to the avidly watching Carla. “I’ll take Mr. Zalotti to my office.”
MATTEO (Dance with the Devil 1) Page 4
