Page 108 of Phantom Mine

“Can I have your gun?” I ask.

Matteo hands it to me without questioning why I need it, and I walk over to Rocco’s body. He’s a mess, his corpse riddled with holes and surrounded by pools of blood. But his face is untouched and that’s a shame. It’s the face of a monster. His features are stuck in a scornful sneer, looking contemptuously down upon the world, even in death.

When I aim, I think of the horrors he must have put Adri through. I think of the photos of those dozens of terrified girls.

But when I pull the trigger, it’s the letter R and perfect skin warped raw by his rage that I see.

I fire, and I keep firing, until there are no bullets left in the chamber and his face doesn’t look much like a face any more.

When I glance over my shoulder at him, Matteo quirks an amused brow at me.

I lift a shoulder in a shrug. “I want him entering Hell looking on the outside exactly the way he did on the inside.”

“Mission accomplished.” Matteo’s lips twitch. “How’d it feel?”

“Fantastic.”

He walks over to me, his hand closing possessively around the back of my neck. “Good girl.”

The warmth of his body calls to me. I lean into him, enjoying the press of his broad chest against my back. His hand moves around to my throat and he tilts my head back against his shoulder so that I’m looking up into his face. He cups my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over the bruises.

My skin pebbles at his gentle touch, at his even gentler voice. “Let’s get you home,” he says.

???

Matteo drives me to my apartment. Instead of simply dropping me off, he announces he’s coming in with me. Letting him burrow himself deeper into my life after the conversation we had about his engagement is a terrible idea, but just for tonight, I need him.

He calls Enzo for cleanup while I take a long, hot shower. I take my time scrubbing every available inch of my body raw until it feels like I’ve removed the top layer of skin entirely and there are no traces of Rocco’s touch left on me.

When I come out into the living room, Matteo is standing by the mantel and clutching something firmly between his fingers. My breath hitches in my chest when I realize what it is. He found it where it’s always been—in a bowl by the door where I keep my keys, a lipgloss, a photo of Adri, and what he now holds in his left hand. I should have hidden it.

Matteo turns when he hears me. A rough curse rips from low within his throat when he sees me standing in nothing but a bath towel. He eats the distance between us in two steps, pulling me into him by my waist with desperate, needy hands.

“Fuck,” he mutters, burying his face in my neck and inhaling deeply. “You smell incredible.” I shiver and he growls. “You don’t know how fucking distracting it is. I’ll be at the club and a hint of your scent will waft over to me and my nostrils will flare like some kind of animal’s.” His fingers dig into my flesh through the towel, drawing it dangerously high on my ass as he presses me into his throbbing cock. “I’ve never smelled it this strong, right out of the shower and clinging to your body like a second skin. It’s driving me crazy—you’redriving me crazy.”

“It’s a fig and vanilla scented body wash,” I gasp, arching into him.

“Yum,” he groans. He nibbles at my neck, lips moving languidly over my skin like he’s trying to eat the body wash off me. “Delicious.”

My head spins, raw lust making me dizzy. My heart is pounding wildly in my chest, beating for him more than it is for me. I can’t make sense of anything, least of all how he’s able to pull such reactions out of my mind and body, and has been since that very first night.

With a frustrated snarl, he pulls his face away. “I want nothing more than to rip this towel off you and fuck you right here, but I have to go. I have to help Enzo with the cleanup,” he explains, raking an annoyed hand over his jaw. “But before I leave, we need to talk.” He reveals what he has held firmly in the palm he previously had clutching my waist. His expression is composed but beneath it his gaze burns, making my stomach clench. “What is this,cara?” he demands.

It feels like a secret part of me has been violently exposed and forcibly pushed into the open. I glance away, incapable of meeting the intensity of his gaze.

Matteo’s fingers close around my chin. He tips it back up and forces me to meet his stare. “Why won’t you answer me?”

“Because you already know.”

“I do,” he murmurs, eyes roaming my face for the truth. “It’s a room key for the penthouse suite at the Raffles. It’s the one I gave you the night we met. The night you didn’t come to the hotel.” He deftly flips the colorful plastic card between two fingers. “So why did you keep it?”

I’ve asked myself the same question more times than I’m willing to admit over the past two years and I’ve yet to come up with an answer that makes any sense to me, so how can he expect I give him one?

“Tell me why,” he presses insistently.

“Maybe for the same reason you framed those feathers,” I blurt out, immediately digging my teeth into my lower lip as if to try and stop the words that are already long gone.

A look of primal possession flares so violently to life in his eyes, the sheer force of it makes me take a step back. Matteo pulls me back by my throat.

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