I flushed, staring up into his intense gaze. He stood too close, far too close, and I shifted back a step pointedly. "Thank you," I murmured awkwardly. Years ago, there'd been obvious affection in the way he looked at me, humor always in his eyes when they landed on me. That was absent, gone, only an almost dark, unsettling intensity remaining. "You look good too," I returned. The smirk he gave me communicated that he was arrogant enough to know just how much of an understatement that was.
Lie of the century.
His smirk melted into a grin. “What are you doing here?” His words were harsh, but his tone was gentle, almost mystified, and laced with his own disbelief.
I understood it very well. Standing in front of him after all those years of pain was a surreal experience, I had no desire to repeat. I wanted to get it over with and be on my way.
“I was at the Byline Bank in McKinley Park this morning when three armed men wearing ski masks came in to rob it,” I said in answer, deciding to just be blunt with the situation. I was growing increasingly suspicious of whatever might have brought criminals to identify me in connection with Matteo.
He stilled, his body freezing in a way that felt unnatural. He didn't so much as twitch aside from the movement necessary to form his next words. “Did they touch you?” His voice was carefully controlled.
“No. As soon as one of them got a good look at me, he begged me to tell you they didn’t know I was there. That they couldn’t have known I’d be there, and to tell you they didn’t touch me.”
“Ivory—” His face gentled, movement returning to his body suddenly. He leaned further into my space, and I backed up another step. I would not allow him to cross that line, not after everything he'd done. All I could do was get my answers, say my peace, and move on with my life finally.
“Why would bank robbers know my name? And why would they panic because of you?” My arms crossed over my chest, and my teeth sank into that spot at the corner of my mouth that had practically become a chew toy under all the stress of the day.
“You’re under my protection. You have been since high school.” His voice hardened slightly as his gaze traveled down to my crossed arms. He didn't appear to appreciate the posture, or the attitude behind it, but kept his mouth shut about it.
“Right,” I grumbled. “Well, let me make something very, very clear then. I do not want your protection.” The remaining gentle look disappeared in favor of hard, cruelly handsome lines. “Remove it, and I will go on living my life like you do not exist just as I have done for twelve fucking years.”
“Be very careful,” he grumbled under his breath. His nostrils flared at me, what had once been a relaxed posture tensing as he stood taller.
“I want nothing to do with you or whatever the hell it is you’re involved in where criminals are afraid of you. You let me live my life without interference, and if I get gunned down in the street then so fucking be it," I hissed, glaring up at him. The muscle in his jaw ticked, his glare turning positively glacial. "It will be better than being a part of whatever this is," I mumbled, turning on my heel to leave.
The doors I'd entered the room through had closed, courtesy of Donatello no doubt. I'd been too wrapped up in the enigma of a man behind me to notice.
It wouldn't happen again. I swore it on my soul, I would never see Matteo again.
He wasn't worth it.
I barely had my hand wrapped around the handle before Matteo's palms pressed against the wood beside my head, and he leaned into me—caging me in.
Fuck.
I'd forgotten what it was like to have a man make me feel short. At 5'7" I wasn't the tallest woman, but I was no slouch. It took a large man to make me feel tiny. Matteo's 6'5" was effective.
“You’ve been very foolish coming here,” he murmured, near my ear. His breath tickled the flesh, sending a shiver racing through me. “I let you go twelve years ago, and it was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. Did you really think I would do it twice?” I ignored my confusion at his words. Like he'd walked away for any reason other than wanting to fuck around.
“There’s a difference,” I gasped as his mouth trailed over the side of my neck in the whisper of a caress. Barely there, so subtle that with anyone else I might have wondered if it was a figment of my imagination. But I knew Matteo's lips, knew his mouth, knew his scent.
“What’s that?” The humor in his voice even sounded arrogant. He knew how affected I was by his touch, and I stilled my body and willed it to shut the hell up.
“I wanted you then,” I hissed. “I don’t anymore.”
“Ah, my Angel, you expect me to believe you have not missed my touch? That you are not already wet for me?”
Why did that voice of his have to be so deep, so fucking sexy? I wanted to turn around and rip out his vocal cords, just so I couldn’t torment myself with the prospect of him using it to seduce other women who looked like me.
“Fuck you, Matteo.” I grumbled, yanking my head away from his wandering lips.
“You should be careful, Angel. I’m a dangerous man now. I do not tolerate disrespect.” He stepped away from me, as if the sound of that nickname in his voice wasn’t enough to bring the threat of tears to my eyes. As if the teasing torment of his breath on my neck had been nothing but a game. “I have business to tend to tonight,” he said as he straightened his suit like he was a gentleman and not a deviant who’d just violated my space. “I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow for dinner.”
“That will never happen.” I laughed, turning to look at him over my shoulder only briefly. He had to be kidding me.
“Cara mia, you will be ready and waiting, or I will feast on you instead.”
I gasped. “Go to hell, Matteo.”
“I’ve lived in Hell for twelve years, Angel mine. It is time for me to feel the sun again.” With that, he moved to sit in the chair behind his desk.
"What does that even mean?" I asked, and he tilted his head to look at me thoughtfully. "You don't even know where I live," I pointed out, turning the sterling silver knob on the door and pulling it open.
"Ivory," his voice called out, and I paused in my steps to go over the threshold. "I mean it, Angel. You will be ready for dinner at seven."
"Or what?" I whispered, raising my chin and turning to face him. "I won't have sex with you. I won't ever make that mistake again."
"We will see about that," he smirked, picking up his pen once more. "You're too naïve to know when you're playing a very dangerous game. I am not a man you say no to."
Donatello appeared in the doorway, eyeing the tension between us. "Miss Torres, may I be of some assistance?" he offered, seeming to want to dissipate the anger pulsing through the room. My heart thudded in my chest. I couldn't say what it was about Matteo's threat, but I knew he meant to make good on it. However, that would happen.
"No, thank you," I snarled, feeling badly for the older man as I turned and stormed toward the door. "I'll show myself out."
"Ivory!" Matteo called behind me, but I kept walking. I didn't stop, even when I heard Donatello's steps following me.