CHAPTER 3

ADRIAN’S POV

I was still lying on the restaurant floor, surrounded by broken glass, with Matteo Rossi sprawled on top of me.

Everything had happened too fast. One second, he’d grabbed me around the waist to pull me out of the line of fire. The next, his body had crashed into mine, and our faces had collided so awkwardly that our mouths somehow ended up touching.

His lips had brushed against mine.

Just for a second. An accidental, surprisingly warm touch that had somehow managed to steal my breath.

Matteo remained above me, supporting himself on one arm so he wouldn’t crush me beneath his weight. His gray eyes were locked on mine, close enough for me to make out the faint shadows beneath his lashes. For the first time since we’d met, that arrogant confidence of his seemed to have disappeared.

He looked surprised.

Or at least I thought he did.

His gaze flickered toward my mouth before returning to my eyes.

I swallowed.

Why the hell was he still looking at me like that?

I didn’t know whether it was the gunshot, the fear, or that ridiculous accident, but my heart was pounding against my ribs like it was trying to escape.

Then Matteo frowned, his usual expression snapping back into place.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, pushing himself up.

I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could get a word out, something warm and wet trickled down my side. I looked down and saw blood spreading across our shirts, soaking the fabric so quickly I couldn’t tell whose it was.

“Not me! You’re bleeding!”

The bullet had grazed his upper arm. His shirt was soaked, yet he seemed more annoyed by my shouting than by the injury.

“I’m fine,” I assured him when he started checking me for wounds. “But you need a doctor.”

Then we heard Alicia.

“Matteo!”

She stumbled out from behind the bar, saw the blood, and collapsed.

Matteo reached her before I did.

“Alicia!”

He scooped her into his arms. For the first time, his voice had lost that infuriating calm.

Within minutes, several men in suits appeared and took charge of the attackers. When the paramedics arrived, Matteo insisted that Alicia be taken to his residence, where a private doctor could examine her.

“Wouldn’t a hospital be better?” I asked.

“We have a doctor waiting.”

“And your arm?”

“Get in the car, Adrian.”

Clearly, nobody had ever taught this man the meaning of please.

The drive was silent. Alicia had regained consciousness, but she was pale and exhausted. When we passed through a set of enormous iron gates, I thought we’d arrived at a luxury hotel.

I was wrong.

The place was a freaking palace, complete with fountains, endless gardens, and security guards stationed at every corner. There were so many of them that I couldn’t tell whether they were protecting a house or preparing for an invasion.

Was Matteo a businessman or the president of a small country?

“Do you always have this much security?” I asked.

“Yes.”

He didn’t even look at me.

A doctor was waiting when we arrived. He examined Alicia and confirmed that she was stable. Apparently, she’d fainted from shock. He recommended keeping an eye on her overnight.

Before falling asleep, Alicia took my hand.

“Adrian, are you okay?” she whispered.

“Perfectly fine. Not a scratch.”

“And Matteo? He won’t let anyone look at his arm.”

“I’m right here, Alicia,” he said from the doorway. “Get some rest.”

She gave him a worried look before closing her eyes. Matteo approached the bed and gently adjusted her blanket with a tenderness I wouldn’t have believed him capable of.

The doctor pointed toward his bloodstained sleeve.

“Mr. Rossi, I need to examine that wound.”

“There’s no need,” Matteo replied, checking his sister’s temperature.

“An injury like that requires medical attention.”

“Take care of my sister.”

His tone was enough to make the doctor fall silent.

The poor man pressed his lips together but didn’t argue.

“Are you always this stubborn?” I asked as we stepped outside.

“Do you always ask so many questions?” Matteo shot back, turning toward me.

The warning in his eyes made me take an involuntary step backward.

Why does this man always look like he’s about to murder someone?

“Do you know who those guys were? The ones who attacked us?”

“Probably robbers.” He poured himself a glass of rum and swallowed it in one gulp. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

“I can call a taxi.”

“I’ll drive.”

“I don’t want to bother you.”

The last thing I need is to be trapped in a car with this guy.

“Adrian.”

He took one step toward me, and my mouth snapped shut.

Apparently, this man didn’t accept the word no, even when accompanied by a perfectly reasonable explanation.

Once inside the car, I fastened my seat belt while he started the engine with one hand.

“Thank you,” I finally said.

“For what?”

“For keeping my head from getting blown off. Very thoughtful of you.”

He didn’t laugh at my joke. He didn’t even respond to the charming smile that usually worked wonders on people. He simply gave me a brief, contemptuous glance before turning his attention back to the road.

Well, that was encouraging.

Come to think of it, something about this guy wasn’t normal.

How the hell did a businessman know how to fight like that?

Then I noticed a fresh patch of blood spreading across his sleeve.

“Pull over.”

“I’m fine,” Matteo replied without taking his eyes off the road.

“You’re bleeding again.”

“It’s a scratch.”

“Perfect. Then you won’t mind if I clean it.”

Matteo sighed and pulled over. I found a first-aid kit in the glove compartment.

“Let me see your arm.”

The moment I reached for him, he pulled away.

“That’s unnecessary.”

“Could you stop acting like a child for five minutes?”

I caught his wrist and drew his arm toward me. Matteo stared as though nobody had ever dared touch him without permission. For a moment, I thought he’d pull away again.

But he didn’t.

“Take off your jacket,” I ordered.

He raised an eyebrow but obeyed.

I rolled up his sleeve and cleaned the wound. His muscles tightened when the antiseptic touched his skin, but he didn’t complain.

He’d refused treatment from an actual doctor, yet here he was letting me patch him up when I barely knew how to apply a bandage.

This man seriously had issues.

We were sitting close enough for me to catch the woody scent of his cologne. I tried very hard not to remember how his lips had felt against mine.

“Stop moving,” I muttered, securing the gauze.

“I’m not moving.”

“Then stop staring at me.”

I looked up.

He was still watching me.

“What? Do I have something on my face?”

He didn’t answer.

I finished wrapping the bandage and warned him, “This doesn’t replace seeing a doctor.”

Matteo raised his uninjured hand, caught my chin between his fingers, and tilted my face toward his.

We were inches apart. His breath brushed my lips, and my heart gave a ridiculous little leap.

Fear. That’s all it is. Definitely fear.

“Listen carefully, Adrian. My sister is in love with you.”

“I know.”

“If you’re playing games with her, end things before you hurt her.”

“I’m not playing games with Alicia.”

His gaze didn’t waver.

“If you hurt her, no pretty smile or clever excuse will save you from me.”

I pushed his hand away.

“Message received.”

I wanted to move back, but I could still feel his breath against my skin.

The man had just threatened me. I should’ve been furious. I should’ve wanted to get as far away from him as possible.

And yet, for one goddamn second, I’d thought he was going to kiss me again.

The worst part?

Some small, deeply confused part of me wanted to know what it would feel like this time.