CHAPTER 4

ADRIAN’S POV

Matteo turned his attention back to the steering wheel and started the engine as though he hadn’t just threatened my life. I sat there stiffly, trying to convince myself that my racing heart had absolutely nothing to do with attraction. Me? Attracted to Matteo Rossi? Please. I’d rather kiss a venomous snake. By the time he dropped me off outside my apartment, I practically threw myself out of the car, and he made no attempt to stop me.

For the next week, I did everything I could to avoid Alicia. She called and texted, but I kept inventing work emergencies to cancel our plans. It wasn’t that she’d done anything wrong. The problem was that every time I pictured her smile, I remembered her brother’s gray eyes and that terrifying warning.

That afternoon, Alicia showed up unannounced at our tiny office, a modest little space barely big enough for the two desks Nico and I worked at. I was reviewing contracts for an upcoming event when I glanced up from my computer and found her standing in front of my desk, arms crossed, wearing an expression that promised trouble.

“Adrian, are you avoiding me?” she asked bluntly.

I set down my pen and flashed her my most charming smile.

“Of course not, sweetheart. Things have just been crazy at the agency.”

Alicia wasn’t stupid. She caught the slight tremor in my voice and asked me outright whether I still wanted to be with her. I couldn’t bring myself to break up with her. Instead, I pulled her into my arms and promised everything was fine, even as guilt twisted painfully in my stomach.

Nico, naturally, noticed how distracted I’d become at work. As soon as I told him about the shooting, conveniently leaving out the ridiculous accidental kiss and my momentary confusion, he gave me a disapproving look.

“If you don’t want to be with her anymore, let her go. Stop lying to her,” he said.

The words immediately brought back memories of my father. His endless excuses, his empty promises to change, and my mother’s constant tears.

“I never promised her anything,” I snapped defensively.

“Your father always had a perfect excuse for every shitty thing he did, too.”

That hit exactly where Nico knew it would hurt.

I was furious. I shut down completely, refusing to say another word.

I hated being compared to that man.

That same night, desperate to get my mind off everything, I helped Nico organize a private event at an exclusive nightclub. Somewhere between the dim lights and the pounding electronic music, I met Vera.

She was blonde, bold, and sinfully sexy.

Exactly what I needed.

“Are you going to keep staring at me all night, or are you planning to buy me another drink?” she asked, resting a hand against my chest.

“Depends on how well you behave,” I replied with a grin.

Vera burst out laughing.

With her, I could be my old self again. Carefree. Unattached. Free to flirt without overthinking every little thing.

Or at least, that was the idea.

Because every time she leaned a little too close, Matteo’s face flashed through my mind like someone slamming on the brakes.

Needing a moment to clear my head, I wandered toward the club’s VIP section. But as I rounded the corner near the private lounges, I noticed a door standing slightly ajar.

And inside was Matteo Rossi.

I stopped dead.

What the hell is he doing here?

Well, it was a nightclub. Maybe he was having a drink, enjoying himself like a normal person.

But why the hell did it have to be this nightclub?

He sat in the center of a private room, surrounded by several men in dark suits who watched him with an almost frightening level of obedience. I instinctively stepped back, hiding behind the wall just as someone mentioned a name I recognized.

“The Marcones broke the agreement,” one of the men said. “The shipment was supposed to arrive last night.”

“And it didn’t,” Matteo replied with chilling calm. “Get the merchandise back. Nobody does business in my territory without my permission.”

Another man nodded.

“As you wish, boss.”

One of the men adjusted his jacket, briefly exposing the handle of a gun.

My stomach dropped.

The Marcones.

Holy shit.

They were one of the most dangerous mafia families in the city!

And if Matteo was discussing shipments and territory with men like that, he was involved in something far more dangerous than I’d ever imagined.

Suddenly, everything made sense.

The bodyguards. The ridiculous mansion. The guns. The way he’d fought off those attackers. His refusal to involve the police.

Matteo Rossi wasn’t just some wealthy businessman.

He was a goddamn mafia boss.

I’d been sleeping with a mafia boss’s sister. And somehow, I’d managed to make the bastard hate me!

How the hell was I still alive?

I backed away, my stomach churning, desperate to disappear before he happened to look toward the door. By the time I made it back to the dance floor, my hands were shaking.

Vera intercepted me almost immediately.

“Jesus, you’re freezing. What happened? Did you see a ghost?” she asked, brushing her lips against my neck.

I wanted to pull away. I knew I should go home, sort out my miserable life, and stay as far away from the Rossi family as humanly possible.

But panic and adrenaline were a terrible combination.

I didn’t want to think.

I wanted to feel like I was in control again.

“Let’s get out of here for a minute,” I whispered.

Vera smiled and led me toward a more secluded corner near the back of the club, where the music faded into a distant, muffled beat.

She backed me against the wall, looking at me with undisguised desire.

I closed my eyes, ignored my conscience, pushed Matteo’s face out of my mind, and kissed her.

It was a hungry, desperate kiss. Less about wanting her and more about escaping everything I didn’t want to face.

She laughed softly against my mouth, clearly enjoying herself, as one hand slipped beneath my shirt. I ran my hands along her waist, searching for some stupid kind of relief.

That was when my phone vibrated in my pocket.

I ignored it.

Then it vibrated again.

And again.

“Answer that thing. You’re killing the mood,” Vera murmured against my skin.

I fumbled for my phone, intending to silence it.

But the name on the screen made my blood run cold.

Matteo Rossi.

I opened the conversation with trembling fingers.

There was a photograph.

Of Vera and me.

Kissing beneath the dim lights of the club.

Our faces were perfectly visible. No blurry angles, no convenient shadows. There was absolutely no way I could deny what I was looking at.

Fuck.

How the hell had he gotten that picture?

Before I could even begin to process it, another message appeared.

Two words.

I’ll kill you.