Page 93 of Ache for You (Slow Burn 3)
A red cartoon devil pops up on my right. “Drag this smug asshole over the coals,” he growls, spitting fire. “You think you’re the only broad he’s makin’ a run for? Don’t be naive. He’s got tail all over town. You can’t be this stupid again. And by the way, dipshit, you’re supposed to be thinking with your brain, not your vagina, remember?”
After a brief hiatus to consider my mental health, I decide to go for the gray area between truth and fiction that admits nothing, but also makes nothing up.
“I asked him to come.”
Matteo takes a step closer, bringing his thunderclouds with him. “Why?”
“We have unfinished business.”
A few more steps and he’s invading my personal space again, frazzling my nerves and cracking my atoms. “Unfinished business,” he repeats, demanding more of an explanation with his eyes.
A fight breaks out between the angel and the devil. It’s a complete bloodbath—the devil wins without even breaking a sweat.
“He’s begged me to forgive him. He’s apologized, and I believe he’s truly sorry. And now . . . we’re working it out.”
Matteo’s cheeks turn ruddy. His nostrils flare. He seems to expand somehow, like he’s filling with air, and I’m an evil bitch because that makes me happier than I’ve been in quite some time.
He says, “What exactly are you working out?”
I know a bargaining chip when I see one and don’t hesitate to use it. “Give me all my sketches back and I’ll tell you.”
When a dark mood settles over him like a fog, I send him what I hope is a spectacular smile. “You sure are crabby all of a sudden, Count. Are you feeling okay? You seem disoriented.”
A low noise rumbles through his chest, and his mouth takes on the hard line that means he’s about to say something I’ll want to smack him for.
He leans in and whispers gruffly, “Not as disoriented as you were a moment ago, bella. I could’ve pushed you against the wall and taken you standing up, you were so ready for it.”
Of course it’s the truth, but hell if I’m going to admit it. I simply shrug, like Maybe I was and maybe I wasn’t, and politely stifle a yawn.
His lips curve into a smile that gives me goos
e bumps, it’s so dangerous. “Challenge accepted. See you at eight.”
He watches me gulp, smirks, then turns and saunters out the door.
I go back to work and spend the rest of the day trying not to count the minutes until I see him again and telling myself it’s all just a game.
The problem with games is that there’s always a loser.
I work straight through dinner and arrive at the house at the same time Matteo does. He’s getting out of his car as my taxi pulls to a stop in front of the door. I pay the driver, gather my handbag and my courage, and step out.
Matteo watches the taxi drive off with a look of consternation. “Do you not know how to drive?”
“You people drive like psychos. I don’t want to get into an accident.”
He strolls nearer, carrying his briefcase in one hand, smiling like he finds me amusing. “I’m happy to drive you to and from work. All you have to do is ask.”
“So you can spy on me and see what new designs I’m creating? No thanks.”
His smile turns into a scowl. “Is that why you think I came by this morning? To spy on you?”
“I find it hard to believe you’d go to all this trouble just to kiss me.”
He stops a foot away, his scowl softening as he glances at my mouth. When he looks into my eyes, the air between us crackles. “It’s no trouble.”
My pulse ticks up a notch. We stare at each other for a moment as a warm breeze whispers through the trees, bringing the scent of jasmine and freshly baked bread with it. I tell myself my mouth is watering because of the bread and not the man standing in front of me.
“All right,” I say, all business. “Let’s get this over with.” I sling my handbag over my shoulder, straighten my spine, and lift my chin.
