Page 90 of Phantom Mine

Chapter Twenty-Three

Matteo

Part of me had expected Valentina to back out. That she’d spend the night overthinking everything that happened at my place and choose to run from our agreement in the morning. So when I found her waiting by my car after the club closed the following evening, that same part of me was surprised.

I would have tracked her down regardless of what she wanted, but the fact that she came to me of her own volition had a frankly dangerous bone deep satisfaction slithering through my body and wrapping itself around every single one of my major organs.

She gave me a detached tip of her chin and, needing to regain some power, turned and grabbed the door handle. I was behind her and slapping her ass sharply before she could even attempt to pull it open.

“Do you ever do as you’re told?” I whispered hoarsely against the shell of her ear.

“No,” she murmured back breathily.

I chuckled. “Good.”

I pushed her into the back seat, pulled at her trousers and mine with hands shaking with anticipation and fucked her hard. The space was small and cramped, our efforts punctuated by bouts of laughter as we feverishly attempted to maneuver our bodies within it.

Then I’d taken her home and fucked her two more times. We’d fallen asleep for a couple hours before she snuck out and went home.

That was two weeks ago and every night since has been the same. Tonight, I have something different in mind.

I knew from Stefano, the bar manager, that she had the evening off so I’d texted her earlier.

Me:Meet me at this address at eight pm.

Valentina had seen the message. I’d watched the bubbles appear then disappear a couple of times, a weird tightness moving north in my chest as I waited for a reply.

One of our key suppliers had walked into my office so I’d been forced to put my phone down and meet with him. My eyes kept trailing back to the screen, waiting—maybe even willing it—to flash. My fingers tapped anxiously on the surface of my desk. I hummed in acknowledgement of whatever the supplier said, hoping that I wasn’t agreeing to anything foolish. When Enzo gave me a sharp look, I knew I had.

Turns out, I’d unwittingly agreed to margins on our next deal that would see me lose money. But my screen had finally,finally, flashed with a notification.

I apologized to the supplier and unlocked my phone, finding that Valentina had thumbsed up the message. You’d havethought she’d promised me a billion pounds in profits for how quickly it erased the thought of the lost revenue.

Now I’m waiting for her in a private room atLa Sirena, an Italian restaurant in the city. I picked a place that isn’t owned or associated with theFamigliaso we wouldn’t be seen by anyone that could recognize me.

I’m wrapping up a call with Enzo when the doors open and Valentina sweeps in, all long brown hair, red lips, and killer curves. A stuttering sigh of relief rattles up my throat. I wonder if the constant anxiety I have that she’s going to disappear again is ever going to go away.

That breath tumbles erratically from my lips when my gaze rakes down the tight little black dress she has wrapped around her body. It’s far more conservative than other outfits I’ve seen her in, and yet it does something to me that those revealing dresses couldn’t. I can imagine her on my arm, pressed against me as we move about the room at a function, greeting my allies.

Dangerous, dangerousthought.

“About what you asked me to look into,” Enzo adds cautiously.

“Hmm?” I can’t look away from her.

Valentina’s hand clenches around the strap of her purse when she sees the lone table.

When Enzo remains quiet, the silence drawing out between us, I know he’s about to tell me something I don’t want to hear. That pulls my attention firmly back to our conversation.

“What is it?”

“Fottuto bastardo,” he curses. Even through the phone, I can hear the words hissed through his clenched jaw.

I stand and turn away from Valentina. “Tell me.”

“I think Rocco is dealing in women.”

My eyes close, my lids suddenly heavy like they’ve been pulled down by weights. “Are you sure?”

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