I extricated myself from the Moretti brothers, pulling on a silk robe and heading into the high-tech kitchen of our Barcelona penthouse.“Matteo!” I called out. I smirked to myself, realizing the fear I used to carry for the Syndicate’s fiercest enforcer had evaporated. He was wrapped around my finger now, and I leaned into that power. Matteo sauntered into the kitchen completely exposed, his lean, scarred muscles catching the morning light. “Matteo!” I hissed, half-chastising, half-admiring. He stretched, yawning like a panther. “You rang, Princess?” he asked, a predatory smirk playing on his lips. “Put some gear on,” I muttered, though my face was flushed. He closed the distance between us until I could feel the heat radiating off him. “Do you actually want me to hide the view?” he whispered, knowing the answer before I could even think it.I tried to keep my eyes locked on his face, but my gaze kept sliding down over his ink-covered chest.Of course, I didn't want him to cover up.
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