Page 13 of Twisted Vows

A humorless laugh escaped her lips. “I think you made it pretty clear to everyone inside that I’m off-limits.”

There was a pause, and then, in a single stride, he was beside her. Close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him, close enough that she could smell the whiskey on his breath.

“I don’t like being tested.”

Isla turned to him, tilting her chin up in defiance. “And I don’t like being controlled.”

His gaze flickered down to her lips before returning to her eyes, his expression darkening. “You think this is a game?”

She smirked, the champagne making her bold. “Isn’t it?”

Something snapped.

In a blink, her back was against the cold marble wall, Matteo’s body caging hers in. His grip on her wrists pinned her in place, his breath hot against her cheek. Isla’s pulse roared in her ears, but she refused to look away, refused to yield.

“You don’t own me,” she whispered, her voice shaking, not from fear, but from something far more dangerous.

Matteo’s lips barely brushed the corner of her mouth, his voice a low rasp. “I don’t have to own you. You already belong to me.”

The words sent a thrill through her, a mix of fury and something she couldn’t name coiling deep inside her. She should have fought him, should have pushed him away, but instead, her hands curled into the fabric of his shirt, dragging him closer.

And then, it happened.

His lips crashed against hers, punishing, desperate, filled with every unspoken battle between them. Isla gasped against his mouth, her body reacting before her mind could process it. His hands slid to her waist, gripping her as if daring her to pull away.

She didn’t.

Instead, she met him with equal fire, her nails digging into his arms, her breath mingling with his. The tension that had simmered between them for weeks finally snapped, igniting into something wild and untamed. His kiss wasn’t gentle—it was raw, claiming, like he was trying to burn the fight out of her with nothing but his mouth.

And worse—worse than the fact that he had kissed her, worse than the fact that she had let him—was that she kissed him back.

With every ounce of defiance she had left in her.

Then, as suddenly as it started, he pulled away.

They stood there, breathless, their chests rising and falling in sync. Matteo’s forehead pressed against hers for a fleeting moment, his fingers still curled around her waist, as if he wasn’t ready to let go. Isla’s lips tingled, her body betraying her as a shiver ran down her spine.

“This doesn’t change anything,” he murmured, his voice rough.

Isla forced herself to smirk, even as her heart pounded. “Good,” she whispered. “Because I still hate you.”

Matteo chuckled darkly, stepping back, his gaze never leaving hers. “Liar.”

His eyes flicked down to her lips again, his breath still uneven. There was a moment, a heartbeat, where Isla swore he might kiss her again. The tension stretched between them, heavy, intoxicating.

Instead, he turned on his heel and left, his footsteps echoing down the corridor, leaving her breathless, shaken, and more confused than she had ever been.

She raised a trembling hand to her lips, the heat of his kiss still lingering.

Because deep down, she knew he was right.

And that terrified her more than anything.

Chapter Ten

Morning came too soon, dragging Isla from a restless sleep plagued by the taste of Matteo’s kiss still lingering on her lips. She sat up in bed, fingers curling in the silk sheets as she forced herself to steady her breathing. It had meant nothing. It had to mean nothing. And yet, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the lingering heat of it, the way his hands had gripped her, the way his lips had felt against hers—fierce, claiming, dangerous.

She exhaled sharply, pushing the thought aside. Matteo was a master at playing games, and she refused to be one of his pawns. If last night had cracked something between them, she needed to be the one to put it back together—to pretend that nothing had changed.

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