Page 75 of Phantom Mine

“You don’t sound annoyed.”

“Why would I be?” Bending, I hoist her off the ground and back into my arms. She gasps, clutching at my shoulders as I flick a cocky smile at her and stalk down the hallway. “I’m very,verygood with my hands.”

“Where are you going?” she asks, a note of panic tinging her tone. “Where are you taking me?”

My arms tighten around her. “My house.”

Chapter Twenty

Valentina

Matteo lives in what can only be described as the ultimate bachelor pad. It’s a three hundred and sixty degree penthouse at the top of the most exclusive residential building in the City, with sweeping views of the Thames and all of London.

He drove us here in his Maserati, seemingly uncaring of the fact that he was bleeding all over his front seat, parked in a private garage, and then ushered me into an elevator with a single button that opened up right into his apartment.

While I’d expected some kind of mansion the likes of which my brother lives in, this is somehow even more luxurious, with state of the art amenities and appliances. The palette is moody, in the dark blues, grays, and greens to match his hypnotizing eyes. The decor is tasteful and not too masculine, striking the perfect balance between functional and beautiful. For a moment, I allow myself to wonder if a woman helped him decorate it before I shut that thought down as quickly as it appeared.

“Why did you bring me here?” I ask, running my fingers along the marble kitchen island and moving over to the leather couch in the seating area.

“I thought it was high time I introduced you to my bed.”

I whirl around to find him grinning at me. His smile is charming and disarming, and I find myself thawing slightly, although very much against my will.

He’s leaning against the island, almost insolent in his confidence as he watches me intently.

“Kidding. Although the introduction will be made later.” My stomach flips at that announcement. “No, I thought the least you could do after getting me shot was help take care of me in my final minutes.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re not bleeding out.”

“I may very well be.” He pouts, looking forlorn. “You haven’t even checked.”

I know he’s teasing me, however my eyes can’t help but trail to the belt wrapped around his arm and the bloody, torn section of his shirt right beneath it. Blood continues to seep out of the opening, slowed but not completely stopped by my makeshift tourniquet.

Something shifts inside me seeing the blood drip steadily down his arm, something nameless and unidentifiable, yet that moves with the devastating impact of tectonic plates.

He saved my life.

Again.

And this time he was shot because of me.

“Do you have a first aid kit?”

His brows raise in surprise before his features smooth out to mask his reaction.

“Yeah, it’s in the guest bathroom.”

Matteo pushes off the island as if to go get it but I put my hand up. “I’ll go. Where is it?”

My skin prickles everywhere his searching, scrutinizing eyes touch. He clears his throat and says, “Down the hall, third door on your left.”

As promised, I find the kit in the cabinet under a beautiful copper sink. When I amble back down the hallway, I take my time and stare at the various pieces of art Matteo has selected to decorate his home, trying to use his choices to draw a better picture of who he is and what he likes.

When I walk past the last frame, I come to a sudden halt. Goosebumps flutter to life along the back of my neck, sending a startled shiver through my body.

I take two steps back. A dark and foreign emotion smacks me hard in the center of my chest.

Five peacock feathers are arranged against a solid background of navy blue and green, and encased in an expensive golden frame that takes pride of place over every other piece of art, positioned as the very first thing you see when you go deeper into Matteo’s apartment. I don’t know how I missed it when I first came down the hallway.

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