Chapter 3

Valentina's POV

Matteo grabbed my hand, yanking me toward a nearby alley. Bullets whizzed past, grazing dangerously close to our bodies.

I'd never been so close to death. Fear made my whole body shake, but Matteo's tight grip gave me an inexplicable sense of safety.

"Get in!"

He shoved open a back door, pushing me into a dim storage room before locking it behind us.

In that moment, the cramped space was filled only with the sound of our ragged breathing.

I could feel Matteo standing just behind me, making my nerves tighten instinctively.

After what felt like forever, the gunfire outside faded into the distance.

When it finally went silent, I dared to turn around. Moonlight spilled through a small window above, casting jagged shadows across Matteo's chiseled face. He leaned against the wall, his deep eyes locked on me with unsettling focus.

"Why?" I broke the silence. "Why save me? You think I killed your father."

Matteo stayed quiet for a moment before answering. "You're a Rossi. Protecting you is my duty."

"Duty?" I scoffed. "Just because I'm your so-called stepmother?"

"Yes." His voice was cold, but his eyes flickered with something else. "No matter what you've done, you were my father's wife."

LIAR.

I could see the complexity in his gaze—it wasn't just duty.

"Your shoulder's bleeding," I said, noticing the dark stain on his white shirt.

Matteo glanced down. "Just a graze."

"Let me see." I stepped toward him. "You need it bandaged."

"No need—"

"Take off your shirt," I cut him off, my tone leaving no room for argument. "Unless you want to bleed out."

He stared at me for a few seconds before unbuttoning his shirt.

HOLY HELL.

Under the moonlight, his body looked like a damn sculpture. Broad chest, sculpted abs—every inch was perfection. His left shoulder had a shallow gash, still oozing blood.

I tore a strip from my skirt and stepped closer. "Don't move."

I was too close. His faint cologne, mixed with sweat and gunpowder, was inexplicably sexy.

"Does it hurt?" I asked, gently cleaning the wound.

"No." His voice was tight.

I glanced up and caught him staring at my face. His eyes were… hungry, dangerous, but restrained.

"Why'd you marry my father?" he asked suddenly.

My hand trembled slightly. "I told you, for love."

"Love?" He snorted. "A twenty-three-year-old girl falls for a fifty-eight-year-old man?"

"Maybe I like mature men," I said, taunting him.

His jaw clenched. "Mature enough to satisfy all your needs?"

The implication hung heavy, charging the air with heat.

"Matteo…" My cheeks flushed.

"What?" He leaned closer, his breath hot on my face. "Getting shy? You're my stepmother—shouldn't you be experienced?"

THIS JERK!

"You're insulting me," I snapped.

"Insulting?" His fingers grazed my cheek. "I'm just curious how you won my father over. What tricks did you use?"

His hand slid to my lips. "This mouth?"

Then down to my neck. "Or something else?"

DAMN IT!

I should've pushed him away. I should've been furious. But my body trembled under his touch.

"We shouldn't…" I gasped, my voice shaky.

"But you want to," he growled. "I can feel it."

He was right. God help me, I WANTED him.

"This is wrong…"

"A lot of things are wrong." His lips hovered over mine. "But we do them anyway."

Then he kissed me, his tongue invading my mouth, hungry and relentless.

I should've pushed him away, but I didn't. I kissed him back.

We crashed against the wall, his hands tearing at my dress. Buttons popped, fabric ripped, falling to the floor. I clawed at his shirt, exposing his chiseled chest.

"God forgive me," he whispered against my ear. "I've wanted you since the moment I saw you."

His confession made my heart pound like a drum. I wanted him too—since that first stare in the church.

Matteo's hands gripped my hips, fingers digging into my flesh, pulling me closer. His mouth found my breast, lips and tongue teasing my nipple until it ached, pleasure shooting through me.

"Easy," I moaned, arching into him, my skin burning under his wet tongue.

My hand slid down, gripping his thick, hard cock, stroking slowly as it pulsed in my hand. He groaned against my chest. "Valentina!"

He lifted me, pinning me to the wall, and thrust inside. His cock stretched me, filling me completely, the sudden fullness stealing my breath. I bit his shoulder to stifle a scream, nails digging into his back as he moved, each deep thrust making me shudder with pleasure.

He grabbed my hips tighter, pounding relentlessly. My legs wrapped around his waist, urging him deeper, my clit rubbing against him with every thrust, pleasure exploding through me. Our sweaty skin slid together, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the air.

The intensity drowned everything—plans, revenge, nothing left but raw desire.

At the peak, my hand brushed the ring—the one hiding the poison. One scratch on his skin, and…

Matteo was lost in me, completely unguarded. The perfect chance.

DO IT! FINISH YOUR REVENGE!

But my hand shook. I couldn't.

His focused expression, the way he murmured my name—I couldn't do it.

I CAN'T.

When it was over, we clung to each other, his breathing slowing.

I looked at his sleeping face, a storm of emotions swirling inside me. I slipped out of his arms, dressed quietly, and, with one last glance, left.