Page 19 of Twisted Vows

Heat coiled in her stomach, anger and desire tangled in a brutal fight for dominance. She hated him. She wanted him. And when he pulled away, his breath ragged, his grip still firm on her waist, she knew one thing for certain.

She was in just as much danger from herself as she was from him.

But Matteo wasn’t finished. His thumb traced over her lips, his breathing still uneven. "You think you can outmaneuver me? That I won’t know every move before you make it?"

She licked her lips, feeling the pulse of danger between them. "Everyone makes mistakes. Even you."

He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "Is that what you’re counting on?" His grip tightened, pulling her flush against him, the heat of his body suffocating. "Because I don’t make mistakes when it comes to things I own."

Isla bristled, shoving at his chest, but he barely moved. "You don’t own me."

Matteo smirked, tilting her chin up. "Don’t I?"

His lips hovered just above hers again, teasing, testing. Isla’s breath hitched, her resolve wavering. She could fight him, deny the pull between them, but her body was betraying her.

Then, just as she thought he’d take her mouth again, he released her suddenly, stepping back with an infuriating slowness. He bent down, gathering the scattered papers from the floor, glancing at them before flicking his gaze back to her.

"If you were looking for leverage, wife, you should have been more careful." He tossed the pages back onto the desk, watching her with a knowing expression. "I own everything in this house—including the game you think you’re playing."

She clenched her fists, anger burning through the remnants of lust still clouding her mind. "We’ll see about that."

Matteo’s grin was slow, wicked. "Oh, we will."

And as he turned to leave, the tension still thick between them, Isla knew one thing for certain.

The game wasn’t just dangerous anymore.

It was deadly.

Chapter Fourteen

Matteo turned to leave, but Isla wasn’t finished. Not yet.

“Walking away?” she taunted, voice sharp, slicing through the thick air between them. “That’s a first.”

Matteo stilled, his back to her, the tension in his shoulders coiling tight like a spring. The room was filled with the weight of something dangerous, something neither of them wanted to name. Slowly, he turned, his dark gaze locking onto hers, unreadable yet burning with something barely restrained.

“Careful, wife.”

Isla took a slow step forward, closing the distance inch by inch, her fury and defiance fueling her recklessness. “Or what?” she challenged. “You’ll lock me away like one of your secrets? You’ll punish me?”

Matteo moved, fast and unforgiving, grabbing her by the wrist and yanking her flush against him. “You think this is a game?” His voice was a whisper against her lips, rough and edged with something raw. “You have no idea what you’re playing with.”

Her breath hitched, but she refused to yield. “Then show me.”

The challenge was the final thread snapping between them.

His lips crashed against hers, brutal and consuming, his hands tangling into her hair as he pulled her closer. It wasn’t tender—it was war, a battle fought with teeth and tongues, with the tension of every unspoken word igniting into something neither of them could stop. Isla shoved at his chest, not to push him away, but to provoke, to match his force with her own. Matteo growled against her mouth, lifting her easily, setting her onto the desk as papers fluttered to the floor, forgotten in the storm between them.

His mouth was relentless, claiming every inch of her with a bruising intensity. His hands roamed, gripping, branding, pulling her into a heat that burned away reason. Isla gasped as he bit down on her bottom lip, her fingers threading through his hair, nails digging into his scalp as she met him with equal fire.

“I hate you,” she whispered against his mouth, but the words were breathless, traitorous.

Matteo’s smirk was against her skin, his lips moving to her jaw, to the sensitive spot just below her ear. “Liar.”

Her back arched as his hands slid down her spine, pressing her against him, the heat between them unbearable. He was unraveling her, and she despised how easily he could do it, how her body betrayed her even as her mind screamed to stop. But she didn’t want to stop. Not now. Not when the weight of their war had finally erupted into something real, something raw.

His hands gripped her thighs, dragging her closer, his breath uneven as he pulled back just enough to study her. “Say it,” he demanded.

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