Chapter 22

Matteo’s POV

I was still pissed.

That was the simplest way to put it, though it didn’t even begin to cover the mess twisting in my chest.

Zara had a talent for doing that, slipping under my skin without permission, without effort, and leaving chaos behind. And the worst part was that I didn’t understand why it bothered me this much.

She was reckless, Immature. Angry at the world and determined to prove she didn’t need anyone. That alone should’ve irritated me in the mild, dismissive way most people did.

Instead, it set my teeth on edge.

I stood in the driveway, jacket pulled on with sharp, aggressive movements, replaying the image I couldn’t seem to shake off.

Her stumbling out of that building the other night. That damn boy’s hands on her. Too close, and too fucking comfortable.

I remembered the way my grip had tightened on the steering wheel as I watched from the car, the fury coming so fast and so violent it had surprised even me. I hadn’t thought. I hadn’t hesitated, when Marco called about her at the party.

I’d just moved. The memory of my fist connecting with his jaw still lingered in my knuckles.

And the look on Zara’s face when she realized it was me, shock, confusion, something dangerously close to relief before everything went dark.

That look haunted me.

“Boss.”

I snapped out of it and turned toward Marco, who stood a few steps away, careful not to crowd me.

“The car’s ready.”

I nodded once. “Coming!”

As I slid into the backseat, my jaw tightened again. I shouldn’t have gone after her that night. I shouldn’t have been watching the damn building like a territorial animal, waiting for when to devour.

I especially shouldn’t have cared. Yet there I was.

The drive to the warehouse was quiet, city lights streaking past the windows like fractured stars. My phone buzzed once. Then again.

But I ignored it. Tonight wasn’t about her. It couldn’t be.

The warehouse loomed ahead, unassuming on the outside, guarded heavily where it mattered. I stepped inside to find my men already gathered with faces serious, and voices low, tension coiled tight in the air.

“Sit,” I said, shrugging off my jacket and they did. Luca leaned forward first. “We’ve got a problem.”

I raised a brow. “I’m aware.”

“Shipments rerouted without clearance,” he continued. “Someone’s testing us everyday”

“Or trying to provoke us,” Enzo added and I nodded slowly, folding my arms. “Who benefits?”

“Not us,” Luca muttered.

As they talked, my mind should’ve been locked in, calculating, assessing, planning. But instead, it kept drifting to her.

To Zara’s voice when she yelled at me the day before that. Her accusation still rang in my ears.

I clenched my jaw trying to focus.

“Matteo,” Enzo said sharply. “You with us?”

“Yes,” I snapped, clearing my throat. “Keep talking.”

Luca shot me a look but continued. “We traced the movement. It points east. Smaller operation, but organized.”

“Names,” I said.

“Working on it.”

I leaned back in my chair, fingers tapping once against the armrest. Knowing too well that East meant risk and competition. Opportunists who smelled weakness. And weakness was something I couldn’t afford.

Yet all I could think about was how fragile Zara had felt in my arms when I’d carried her out of that alley. How light she’d been. How easily she’d trusted me without even realizing it.

It made my chest tighten almost too uncomfortably.

“This isn’t just business anymore,” Enzo said. “They’re pushing boundaries.”

“I’ll handle it,” I replied coldly.

“You sure?” Luca warned. “Because you seem distracted.”

The word hit harder than it should have and I shot him a look. “Watch your mouth.”

“I’m not challenging you,” he said quickly. “I’m stating a fact.”

Silence stretched and I exhaled slowly. “Finish the report.”

As they resumed, I forced myself to focus. Numbers. Routes. Names. Threats. This was familiar territory. This was where I was supposed to excel.

And yet— The image of Zara in that black dress flashed uninvited into my mind.

The way she’d looked that night. Nothing like the girl who dragged herself through university halls in oversized clothes and a defiant scowl. She’d been stunning and completely different. And I’m so sure that every eye in the room were drawn to her.

Including his. The damn boy…That realization made my stomach twist. Why did it bother me that other men noticed her?

“She’s not yours,” I muttered under my breath.

“What?” Enzo asked.

“Nothing,” I said, realizing I was still seated in my meeting with my men.

The meeting dragged on, decisions made, orders given. Still, my thoughts lagged, trailing back to the same place over and over.

Her laughter, her anger. The way she slammed doors like she wanted the world to hear her fury. That right then I hated how much space she occupied in my head.

I hated even more that part of me didn’t want to push her out.

“We’ll move tomorrow night,” Luca said finally. “Quietly.”

“Good,” I replied, standing. “Stay sharp.”

They nodded, rising as well. As I stepped outside, the cool night air hit my face, grounding me slightly in a pause. I pulled my phone from my pocket at last.

Realizing that I had just received a text from my mother. Typical of her to text at such late hours of the night.

I stared at the screen longer than necessary before locking it again knowing I just wasn’t in for her long talks and dramas tonight.

And then I finally concluded in my mind that all of what’s happening was a problem.

Not Zara’s behavior, that was manageable. The problem was me.

The way my anger flared too fast when it came to her. The way control slipped at every instant. The way lines blurred when it came to her.

She was my step-sister. She was off-limits. And yet when I’d seen that boy’s hands on her that night, all I’d felt was the urge to break something.

I leaned back against the car when I got in, exhaling. Affirming to myself that this had to stop.

Because if it didn’t— I wasn’t sure I’d recognize myself when I finally snap in front of her.