“I don’t want to talk about this,” I said, letting my gaze drift slowly over the buildings, searching for a way to change the subject.
“You don’t keep in touch with your real family.
I’m guessing the people you live with now were never touched by Romano.
So who among those close to you could he have hurt?” “Hurt?” I gave a crooked, ironic half-smile.
“That man is dead.” I didn’t bother explaining that it wasn’t me who had cut ties with my family—they were the ones who had severed every connection.
And as for the people I lived with now… I had no desire to speak about them at all.
I exhaled noisily, closed my eyes, and rubbed them with my fingertips.
“He wasn’t particularly close to me.
Just the owner of the café where I used to work.
But he was a good man.
He helped often.
He had a family—a wife, children—and in the end…” I fell silent.
For a long time I had tried not to think about Marcello, but every time the memory surfaced anyway, an icy horror slid over my skin.
Marcello was a perfect reflection of life in Naples—something closer to walking across thin ice.
Either he had borrowed money from the Camorra to open the café, or he had operated without their permission.
The fact remained: the slightest contact with the Camorra, the smallest mistake, and you would beg for death yourself.
And the men who came for Marcello belonged to Matteo Romano.
I glanced sideways at Matteo.
Not a single emotion crossed his face at what I had said.
As if he couldn’t care less.
In principle, that was expected.
What had I wanted from him?
Compassion for a man he had never known?
“And that’s all?
We’re talking about something so minor?” Those questions from Matteo left me stunned.
I even missed a step.
“Minor?
A human life is minor to you?” Matteo only shrugged with complete indifference, making it clear that my turmoil made no sense to him.
*** “It’s already late.
I need to go home.” I pulled my phone from my bag and checked the time.
Nearly midnight, but that wasn’t what frightened me.
We had long since left the embankment and entered a stretch of almost deserted streets.
This was clearly not the place I wanted to find myself alone with Matteo.
I glanced around, trying to find a street sign, but instead my mind registered with rising alarm that no cars were passing, the sidewalks were empty except for us, and not a single light burned in the low buildings.
What kind of place was this?
Why… was it so empty?
“The night’s only just beginning, and you’re already planning to leave?” Matteo stood only a few steps away, hands in the pockets of his trousers.
He looked lazy, relaxed—yet a chill still ran over my skin.
He was too tall, his build far too powerful.
One way or another, beside him I felt unbearably fragile and defenseless.
On the embankment, surrounded by crowds, I had managed to relax a little.
Now my nerves were stretched to the limit again.
“I don’t usually wear heels.
My feet already hurt.” It was almost the truth.
My feet really did hurt—not so badly that I couldn’t walk, but the discomfort was real enough.
“Want me to carry you?” I flinched at how close the question sounded.
Turning sharply, I realized there was almost no distance left between us.
My first impulse was to stay put.
I already flinched away from him too often, jerked at every approach.
And I saw nothing wrong with that.
I was afraid of him, damn it, and I saw no reason to hide it.
But… the hellish experience of living with my stepbrother had taught me that fear was a weakness.
Show it, and things only got worse.
“Thank you, but I’ll manage,” I tried to sound as calm as possible.
“My feet don’t hurt that much.” “Refusing my care?” Matteo brushed the hair from my shoulder with his palm, baring it.
His gaze slid over my collarbones, then my neck.
“I just want to go home.” I finally took a step back.
Standing this close to him, I caught the scent of cigarette smoke and cologne rising from his skin.
I could have called it pleasant—yet the goosebumps it sent racing over me were so strong it felt as if I were inhaling danger in its purest form.
“I’m tired.
And I have lectures first thing tomorrow morning.” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement and turned toward it.
With relief, I thought someone else might have appeared on the street—only to see a stray cat.
Or not entirely stray; it was rather beautiful and even wore a collar.
I watched it dart into the alley and missed the truly dangerous moment.
Matteo was beside me again.
I realized it only when my chest met his steel-hard torso.
Despite how lazily he moved, I had no time to react before he slipped his arms under my thighs and lifted me clean off the ground.
“Put me down!” I couldn’t tell whether fear or outrage dominated my voice.
My hands shoved hard against his shoulders.
Frantically, with all my strength, I tried to break free—even if it meant falling.
“Choose.
Either here, or we go to the hotel,” Matteo murmured, burying his face in my neck, drawing in a deep breath.
His hands squeezed my ass hard as his powerful weight pinned me against the wall.
“What… what are you talking about?” The frightened words slipped out.
“You’re supposed to satisfy your boyfriend.” His fingers tangled in my hair, forcing my head farther back.
His lips remained against my neck; I felt every brush of them on my skin.
“The date was on your terms.
The night is on mine.” “You’re not my boyfriend!
I’m not going to satisfy you!” The words tore out louder than they should have.
If I understood anything, it was that until this moment Matteo’s body had been relatively relaxed—if that word even applied.
Now it seemed to turn to steel.
He gripped my thighs so hard I cried out in pain.
I struggled more desperately still, but he paid no attention.
He carried me into the narrow alley between two buildings, set me down on a stone ledge, pushed my legs apart, and stepped between them.
Bracing his hands on either side of my hips, he leaned to my ear and said: “Unbuckle my belt.”