Page 34 of Phantom Mine

“Turn around, Melody.” His voice drips with unbending authority.

My ears ring as I do what he says.

Matteo stands in the open doorway, his handsome face set in an unreadable mask of granite, his entire body lined with tension. It’s the first time I’m seeing him in weeks and the twitching muscle in his jaw reveals his fury.

There’s an inexplicable split second of foolish relief that it’s him, but it’s gone just as quickly. He found me searching his brother’s office. I can’t pretend I was doing anything else, justlike I can’t pretend that I’m not aware of what the punishment for this crime will be.

Especially not when Matteo steps into the office and closes the door slowly behind him. The weight of his anger presses down on me like a storm about to break. The silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating. It’s as if the air itself knows what’s at stake—if I don’t kill him, he’s going to kill me.

As soon as the thought materializes, an unwelcome emotion cleaves at my chest. I try not to give the doubt any attention, but it bursts into my consciousness, demanding to be heard.

I don’t want to kill this particular Leone, not without knowing for sure that he’s responsible. Because the possibility that he might be innocent, well… it might change things.

No. There’s no room for mercy.

Even less so for misguided sentimentality.

Ultimately, it’s his survival versus mine.

It’s choosing between him and Adriana, and that choice is easy.

I let my bottom lip tremble so Matteo will buy into my fear. It’s not nonexistent, so it’s easy to overexaggerate. His eyes drop to my mouth. I think I see something soft flicker through his hard gaze, but I don’t stop to identify it. My fingers close around a knife-shaped letter opener on Rocco’s desk and I hurl it at Matteo with deadly precision. It cartwheels through the air at speed, slicing lethally towards him.

He snatches the makeshift weapon deftly out of the air with an ease that reveals just how deceptively dangerous he is.

His mouth flattens into a harsh line, his eyes turn inky black, and his voice strains tightly around the edges of his temper.

“That was a mistake,pavona.”

He lets the letter opener fall. It hits the floor with aclangthat explodes in the ensuing silence.

Matteo doesn’t wait another second—he lunges across the desk. Instead of retreating, I go towards him. When he clears the surface and reaches for me with both hands, I weave under his arm and punch him right in the face.

The blow catches him clean in the jaw and sends his head snapping to the side.

Pain radiates through my hand, at least one or two of my fingers likely broken by the impact. Damn him for having such a perfectly chiseled face.

He runs his fingers over his jaw and turns his head back towards me. When his mouth stretches into a slow smirk, I have the confirmation I’ve been looking for that he is, in fact, batshit crazy.

Low heat simmers to life in my belly as my brain mistakenly sends signals to my body that this is some kind of foreplay between us.

Matteo throws a punch, and I deflect it with my forearm. He immediately throws a second one without waiting to see if the first lands.

I duck, evading his fist just in time to hear it rush past my ear. His eyes flash with dark amusement.

He’s testing me.

“You know how to fight,” he comments.

He sounds pleased, not angry.

He’s enjoying this, the bastard.

And based on the look growing steadily darker on his features, he’s going to enjoy killing me.

A third punch comes and I just manage to rear back and avoid it. He’s grinning as he continues raining blow after blow down on me, forcing me to defend instead of attack. He’s incredibly fast, incredibly skilled, and incredibly strong, and even though I’m able to keep up, it’s costing me. Every deflectionuses up my stores of energy until I’m nearly depleted without having been able to counter.

My teeth grit in frustration at being outmatched.

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