Page 60 of The Price of Power

With every touch and caress, I felt the strength in his hands. I knew those talented fingers that were capable of playing me like a damned fiddle were just as capable of wrapping around my throat and squeezing the life out of me.

We were close enough now that I knew he wouldn’t want to do it. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t.

I knew if I gave Gabriel a strong enough reason. His code of honor would make him. He wouldn’t feel like he had a choice.

He had killed his own uncle, after all—his own flesh and blood.

I wasn’t family. I was just the human collateral he was temporarily sharing his bed with. And no matter how mind-blowingly good the sex was, I’d be wise to remember it.

But even with that thought always front and center in my mind, temptation still pulled at me.

And one morning, after everyone had left and it was just me and Mrs. Tarolli in the house, it became too strong to resist.

I opened the drawer and looked down at my phone. Everything was quiet outside the cracked door. Only the faintest sounds of the housekeeper all the way down in the kitchen rose up the stairs. So, just like I’d done a couple dozen times before, I hit the power button and waved for the screen to come to life.

By now, I should’ve been used to the disappointment of a blank home screen, but apparently, hope really did spring eternal.

Well, hope might have been everlasting, but time definitely wasn’t.

It was running out fast.

A whole month had gone by, and I had no idea if my family was any closer to securing the money that would give me back my freedom and save Theo’s life. There was no way I would be able to stand another sixty days under the same anxiety and stress.

I decided I was going to have to risk it.

Keeping the phone in the drawer, I pulled up my contacts. Mom’s number was right there at the top of my favorites. All I had to do was hit it and?—

“Liv.”

My head shot up, all the air in my lungs freezing as my wide eyes took in the sight of Gabriel’s face in the doorway.

No. Not Gabriel’s.

The features might have been the same, but that ramrod straight back and those tight shoulders belonged to someone else.

“Hey, Matteo,” I said, trying to look and sound nonchalant as I quickly closed the drawer. “I thought you were gone for the day.”

“I came back for something,” he said without blinking. His eyes stayed fixed on mine, as cool and assessing as always, as he leaned his shoulder against the door jamb. “What are you doing?”

A simple question spoken in a flat, neutral tone, and yet I knew how deceptively dangerous it really was. An open-ended question like that could give a person plenty of rope to hang themselves with.

“Nothing,” I said.

“Nothing?” he echoed. “I thought you were working on the new La Sera numbers.”

“I am.” I lifted up the paper lying in front of me. “See.”

His eyes narrowed as he stepped inside the room to take the page from my hand. He scanned it for a second before nodding.

“Impressive,” he said, his tone as impossible to read as always. “You do good work, Liv.”

“Thank you.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to straighten out the books at the nightclub without you.”

“Of course you could have,” I replied honestly. We both knew he was just as talented with numbers. So, what was he playing at?

“True,” he admitted readily. “But it would have taken me time I didn’t have, so I appreciate your help.”

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