CHAPTER TWO

Matteo stood in the hallway, his body tense, his mind working furiously to push away the strange stirrings her proximity caused. This was a transaction, nothing more. The sooner he reminded himself of that, the sooner he could finish his business here and leave without further complication.

But Isabella Thornton wasn’t making it easy. The way her soft voice lingered in the air, the way her eyes challenged him in ways no one else ever dared—she was getting under his skin.

He glanced at her father, still standing awkwardly by the door, a silent plea written all over his face.

"I’ll take care of it," Matteo said sharply, dismissing the man with a wave. He had no time for Richard Thornton’s cowardice. The deal had been struck, and now Matteo needed to make it clear that there would be no further attempts to bargain.

Richard nodded weakly and disappeared down the hall, leaving the two of them alone. Matteo’s gaze shifted back to Isabella, who hadn’t moved from the door. She stood there, hesitant but defiant, her shoulders squared as if she were preparing herself for something.

Matteo crossed the room to her, the click of his boots on the marble floor the only sound between them. When he reached her, he towered over her, and for a moment, the silence was thick, pregnant with tension.

"You think you can just offer yourself to me, and that’ll solve everything?" His voice was a low growl, more to himself than to her. But she heard it, her eyes flickering with something that was definitely not fear.

"I’m not afraid of you," Isabella replied, her voice barely above a whisper. But there was a firmness in it, a quiet strength that struck him.

He almost didn’t believe her. No one had ever spoken to him like this—not in this way. Women either feared him or adored him, but never... never like this.

Matteo moved closer, until his body was only a hair's breadth from hers. He could smell her perfume—a delicate, floral scent that seemed too innocent for someone whose father had thrown her to the wolves.

"Is that so?" he murmured, leaning in just enough for her to feel the heat of his breath against her skin. His fingers grazed her arm lightly, as if testing her resolve.

Isabella’s breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she stood her ground, her heart racing in her chest, but her resolve firm. She had never been touched like this before—not by someone like him. But there was something about the way he looked at her, the way he towered over her, that stirred something deep inside her. Something dangerous, yet thrilling.

"Don’t mistake my silence for weakness," she said, her voice strong now, despite the fluttering in her chest.

Matteo’s lips twitched in a half-smile. "I’m not interested in your strength, Isabella. Not yet, anyway."

His hand brushed the side of her neck, making her pulse spike. She stood still, her body betraying the fight in her eyes. Every inch of her screamed to step back, to escape, but she didn’t. It was as if her body was in conflict with her mind, wanting to show him she wasn’t afraid—wanting to prove something, even if she didn’t understand what.

Matteo’s gaze darkened as he studied her. "You think you can handle me?" His voice dropped, rough with barely contained desire.

Isabella swallowed hard, her throat dry. She tried to ignore the trembling of her hands, her entire body alight with a strange, unfamiliar tension. "I’m not some fragile thing," she said, her voice steadier now. "I may not be what you expected, but I won’t cower."

Something flickered in Matteo’s eyes, a mix of admiration and annoyance, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure what to make of it. He wasn’t used to this, to women who didn’t tremble in his presence, to those who didn’t bow to his will.

He took another step forward, closing the distance between them until there was no air left to breathe. His hand slipped to her waist, his touch firm, but not aggressive. She stiffened, but didn’t pull away.

"I never said you were fragile," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear. "But you’re not what I need. I’ve got no interest in dealing with your father’s mistakes. I want what’s mine."

She didn’t quite understand what he meant by that, but there was a dark promise in his words, something in his tone that made her stomach twist.

Matteo’s fingers traced the curve of her waist slowly, savoring the softness of her skin. His movements were deliberate, as if he were testing her, waiting for her to break, waiting for her to tell him she couldn’t handle the intensity of what was about to unfold.

But Isabella didn’t say anything. She let him touch her, let him invade her space. Something inside her was drawn to him, even though every warning bell in her head screamed for her to run.

"I’m not afraid," she repeated, though the words seemed more like a question than a statement.

He chuckled darkly, his breath ghosting across her skin. "You should be."

Before she could respond, his hand slid up her back, cupping the back of her neck. He tilted her head back slightly, forcing her to look at him, the raw intensity in his gaze making her pulse race.

For a moment, all she could do was stare at him. The distance between their faces was mere inches now, the heat of his body enveloping her. She could hear the pounding of her heart in her ears, feel the flush spreading through her skin.

"Don’t make this difficult," Matteo muttered, his voice like gravel, low and dangerous.

Isabella didn’t know if she wanted to run or stay. She didn’t know if she was strong enough to resist the pull of this man, this dangerous mafia lord who had just bargained for her life, for her body. But there was something thrilling about it—something that both terrified and excited her.

Her breath quickened as he leaned in closer, and for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her.

But Matteo stopped just before their lips could meet. He was close enough for her to feel his warmth, the heat of his breath against her mouth. He was testing her again—waiting for her to break, to make the first move.

She could feel the tension in the air, the silence growing thick between them. The world outside seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of them in this moment, in this heated standoff.

And then, just as suddenly as it had started, Matteo stepped back. His hands dropped from her neck, his expression hardening once more, the mask of the ruthless Don slipping back into place.

"Enough of this," he said, his voice steely. "I didn’t come here for this."

Isabella blinked, her body still humming with the touch of his hands, her skin tingling with a need she didn’t fully understand. But she didn’t dare speak as he turned away from her, walking toward the door. For a moment, she stood frozen in place, unable to move.

"Remember this, Isabella," Matteo’s voice came over his shoulder, cold and commanding. "This was your choice."

She couldn’t speak. She didn’t know what to say. She had made a choice, but now that it was made, she wasn’t so sure it was the right one.

As the door closed behind him, Isabella was left standing alone, the silence of the room pressing in on her.