Page 39 of Phantom Mine

I swallow thickly as he straightens. Something about the abrupt change in his demeanor tells me to play along. Matteo takes my hand and helps me sit up. Once I’m seated, his hands find my waist in a casually possessive embrace.

Whatever animosity and suspicion he held for me moments ago, both are gone.

“Rocco,” Matteo calls over my shoulder, eyes never leaving mine.

Oh, shit.

Steps sound behind me as Rocco comes closer. I jump off the desk and Matteo wraps an arm around my shoulders, tucking me into his side. I follow his gaze as it comes to rest on his approaching brother. Rocco doesn’t look anything like the massive self-portrait hanging next to us. Where he was once attractive, he’s been bloated and softened by overconsumption of either alcohol or drugs.

Maybe both.

Either way, I understand why he prefers the likeness he sees in the self-portrait.

It paints a prettier picture.

Literally.

Rocco’s interested gaze travels lewdly down my body, taking note of the incredibly revealing bodysuit I’m wearing. Matteo stiffens besides me.

“Apologies,” Matteo calls, voice bored. “Just needed a quick fuck.”

Rocco’s stare is crude and vulgar. It manages to make me feel both naked and dirty, like he can see straight through the fabric.

“How very unlike you, brother.” His face contorts into something that resembles an attempt at a smile but comes out a grimace. “And in my office?”

Matteo shrugs but his body is taut against mine, like he’s ready to snap at the first provocation.

“A good therapist would have something to say about that,” Rocco adds. His stare shifts back to me and I resist a scared shiver. “It’s rare to see you interested in a woman. I fondly remember the last time you were.” Rocco laughs sharply, an ugly sound. Tension swirls to life like a fast-forwarded, category five hurricane. Oxygen is sparse. “And now you’re fucking a stripper. How cliché. Tell me, whore, how do you feel about fucking brothers?” He extends a hand, reaching for my chin. “I’d be happy to leave my little brother the pleasure of your sweet pussy while I buried my cock in your tight ass. I think you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Ice forms, hardening the surfaces of Matteo’s entire body until his eyes and cheekbones look like they could slash. His fingers wrap around Rocco’s wrist before he can touch me and he pushes him away with a firm hand.

“I haven’t had a taste yet,” Matteo says, his tone disinterested and unlike anything I’ve heard his voice be thus far. “You interrupted us. I’ll let you know if she’s worth it, but I doubt it.”

Interest flares to life in his brother’s gaze, but Matteo doesn’t let the moment last. He pushes me forward and away from the both of them, then smacks my ass lightly.

“Run along,” he says, face devoid of all emotion. “I’m done with you now.”

The complete shift in his personality gives me whiplash. Gone is the arrogant, confident, teasing man who had his hands on my body and his lips on my neck. In his stead is a cold,callous,lifelessversion of him. I’d find the change jarring in isolation, but when it’s added to the photos of the girls I found in his brother’s drawer, and to my own body’s reaction to Rocco’s words and presence, it starts to draw a picture of the kind of man his brother is.

I turn at the door before leaving, and look over my shoulder one last time.

Both brothers stare back at me. One does so lasciviously, his eyes screaming the violence he’s dying to subject my body to.

The other’s gaze is so intensely impassioned it leaves a searing brand on my skin. Unlike his brother, his stare is protectively possessive.

No matter his words to the contrary, I don’t think Matteo would ever hurt me. I’m just not surewhy.

Chapter Twelve

Matteo

My pulse only begins to level out once the door is closed behind Melody and she’s safely on the other side of it. Even then, I know that her safety is nothing but an illusion.

Images of Susana’s mangled body flash through my eyes. Now that Rocco is aware of her existence within my orbit, Melody is in danger. There’s unfortunately no backtracking. The best I can do is to downplay her importance and make him believe she’s inconsequential to me.

Rocco faces me and the look in his eye stiffens my spine. It’s one I know all too well, cruelty mixed with interest, and I want it pointed in any other direction but hers.

“What’s her name?”

---