CH 15

**Mateo's POV**

 

I knew something was wrong the second I stepped inside her apartment. The air felt heavy-thick with fear, with secrets she wasn't ready to spill. Isabella stood frozen in the doorway, hair draped over the left side of her face like a shield, eyes wide and glassy under layers of makeup that couldn't hide the truth.

 

Something sparkled in me. The urge to protect her. To hold her tight and make sure notor no one hurt her again. 

 

"What happened to your face, Angioletto?" I asked again, quieter this time. Deadlier.

 

She flinched at the nickname. Tried to step back. I caught her shoulders-gentle but firm. Turned her fully toward the dim hallway light.

 

The bruises were fading-greenish-yellow now, edges blurred-but unmistakable. Someone had hit her. Hard. Multiple times. The split on her lower lip had scabbed over, but fresh cracks showed where it had reopened. Her left eye socket still carried a sickly purple shadow. Concealer did its best, but I could see the swelling beneath.

 

Rage boiled under my skin. Slow. Controlled. The kind that promises violence later. 

 

"Talk to me," I said, cupping her face in both hands. Careful. Thumb brushing just under the bruised eye. "Now."

 

"I... slipped in the shower," she whispered. Eyes darting away. "Fell. Hit the tile."

 

Bullshit. Unless she hit her face multiple time in a couple of seconds I am not buying that. Even if –I would 'kill' that shower and the floor.

 

I tilted her chin up. Forced her gaze to mine.

 

"Am I gone so long you think you can lie to my face?"

 

She scoffed-small, bitter. Rolled her eyes like she could hide behind attitude.

 

I stepped closer. Close enough to feel her heat. To smell lavender and rosemary clinging to her skin-fresh from the shower. My cock twitched at the scent alone. Traitorous body. Wrong timing.

 

She didn't back away this time. Just stood there-shaking, breathing shallow, trying to look anywhere but at me.

 

I closed my eyes for a second. Breathed her in. Let the scent ground me before the fury took over.

 

"What. Happened. To. Your. Face."

 

She smiled-weak, obviously fake then looked away again.

 

I moved with her. Kept her cornered between me and the wall. One hand slid to the back of her neck-thumb stroking the soft skin there. The other stayed on her jaw.

 

"I'm fine, Sir."

 

My jaw clenched.

 

"Mateo," she corrected quickly. Voice small. Trembling.

 

Better. But not enough.

 

She slipped past me. Walked to the kitchen. I followed. Watched her move-nervous, fidgety-filling the kettle, reaching for mugs like normalcy could save her.

 

"If I call you Mateo here," she asked with her back to me, "does that mean I can call you Sir at the office?"

 

"You can call me whatever the fuck you want," I said. "As long as you stop hiding from me."

 

She glanced over her shoulder. Frowned when I said "Almond" to her question about sugar or honey.

 

I grinned-slow, dark. "I can have sugar. Or honey. If you want."

 

She nodded. Made the tea. Brought it to me. I took one sip-hated the honey-then set it down.

 

"What if I said I'm allergic to honey?"

 

Her eyes widened. She snatched the mug back so fast hot liquid splashed over her fingers. She hissed in pain.

 

Damn. I shouldn't have lied.

 

Before I could stop her she pushed me toward the couch. Dropped to her knees in front of me-checking my pockets, my chest, my arms like she was searching for an EpiPen.

 

I stared down at her.

 

Her small hands roamed. Palms flat against my abdomen. Fingers brushing the waistband of my pajama pants. My cock thickened instantly-hard and aching behind the thin fabric.

 

She looked up. Caught my gaze. Saw where my eyes had dropped-to her mouth, inches from my erection.

 

"You feel pain anywhere?" she whispered.

 

I nodded. Slow. Deliberate.

 

Her palm settled over my belt. Hesitated.

 

"Sir, I-"

 

I pressed one finger to her lips. Silenced her.

 

"Get up."

 

She rose. I tugged her forward until she straddled my lap-knees bracketing my hips, breasts level with my face. Thin pajamas. No bra. Nipples hard little points against the fabric.

 

I groaned low in my throat. Took one peak into my mouth-fabric and all. Sucked hard. Rolled my tongue. Pinched the other between thumb and forefinger.

 

She moaned-sweet, broken. Body relaxing against mine. Hips rocking once. Twice.

 

I slid both hands under her nightdress. Gripped her bare waist. Pulled her tighter against my cock-letting her feel every thick inch.

 

She stiffened. Locked eyes with me. Shook her head.

 

"We shouldn't," she whispered. "You're my boss, Mr. Rossi."

 

The words stung more than they should have. I wasn't just her boss, I was something more. More that I couldn't place it yet.

 

I let go. Hands falling to the couch. Chest heaving.

 

She slid off my lap. Took slow steps backward.

 

"I don't think this... boss and employee thing... is comfortable," she said. Voice shaking. "I don't think it's..."

 

"You don't think it's comfortable to look at my dick?" I asked deliberately. "You know you did this to me."

 

Her tongue darted across her lower lip. Eyes dropped to the obvious bulge in my pants. Stayed there.

 

I stood. Walked to her. Took her face in my hands again. Kissed her-slow, deep, claiming. She melted into it for a second-then pulled back.

 

"You belong to me, Angioletto," I said against her mouth.

 

She gave a small, sad smile. Collapsed against my chest.

 

"Get on your knees."

 

She dropped instantly. No hesitation. Hands went to my belt-unfastening it with trembling fingers. Slid the elastic of my boxers down just enough to free me.

 

My cock sprang out-heavy, thick, already leaking at the tip.

 

She wrapped her fingers around the base. Stroked once. Slow. Teasing. She looked up at me, her mouth half open as she smiled and subconsciously brought up her other hand ro squeeze one of her breast.

 

I groaned. Fisted her hair-not pulling. Just holding.

 

"Do it."

 

She leaned forward. Pressed a soft kiss to the head. Tongue flicked out-tasting the bead of pre-cum. My hips jerked.

 

"Suck me like you own me, Angioletto."

 

She smiled-small, wicked then took me into her mouth.

 

Hot. Wet. Perfect.

 

I let my head fall back. Groaned low and long as she worked me-slow at first, then deeper. Tongue swirling. Lips tight. Hand stroking what she couldn't fit.

 

My fingers tightened in her hair.

 

"Good girl," I rasped. "Just like that."

 

She moaned around me. The vibration shot straight to my balls.

 

I looked down-watched her take me deeper. Watched tears gather at the corners of her eyes-not from pain. From need. From surrender.

 

She pulled off with a wet pop. Looked up at me-lips swollen, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy.

 

"I want you to fuck my mouth," she whispered. "Please."

 

I didn't need to be asked twice.

 

I gripped her hair tighter. Guided her back down. Thrust-slow at first. Then harder. Deeper. Fucking her throat the way I'd been dreaming about since New York.

 

She took it. Gagged once-twice-then relaxed. Let me use her.

 

My hips snapped faster. Balls drawing tight.

 

"Swallow every drop," I growled.

 

She moaned-eager. Desperate.

 

I came hard-hot, I love the way my thick pulses down her throat. She swallowed greedily. Didn't spill a drop.

 

When I finally pulled out she gasped for air. Lips shiny. Chin wet. Eyes shining.

 

I hauled her up. Kissed her-tasting myself on her tongue.

 

"You're mine," I said against her mouth. "No more hiding. No more lies."

 

She nodded. Small. Shaky.

 

Then whispered the words that broke something inside me:

 

"Someone hurt me, Mateo."

 

I froze.

 

Held her tighter.