Page 63 of Brutal Revenge

“Uh… I’m allergic to fish,” he murmurs, his words smooth despite the shudder of the loose skin under his neck. “And that’s all that’s being served at the back tables.”

I glance down at my plate, my stomach grumbling when I take in a perfectly cooked steak swimming in garlic-and-herb-infused juices. Disappointment stabs me in the chest when I gather up the plate to hand it to the man, fully expecting Matteo to dismiss him with an unvoiced warning not to forget whom he’s dealing with.

Instead, Matteo continues to shock me. “Join us.” He lowers his eyes to me. “Azra is in your seat.”

My head snaps up to the man before I stammer out an apology. “S-sorry.”

Standing, I scan the room for the table I’m supposed to be at,desperate to hide my inflamed face in the shadows where I’m always placed.

Multiple orgasms clearly make even the shrewdest women stupid.

I’ve never felt dafter.

I don’t get a step away before Matteo’s fingers encircle my wrist. He pulls me down until I land in his lap with a thud. A soft gasp escapes me as intimate regions of our bodies collide. Matteo isn’t hard, but try as I may, I can’t ignore the girth and length barely concealed by tailored trousers.

My gasp shifts to a moan when Matteo flattens his hand low on my stomach with a calm certainty that our seating situation is the most natural thing in the world. His hold screams that I belong here, in his lap. He reserved his thighs solely for my backside.

Unconcerned by the extra body at a table designed to seat twenty, the waiter arrives with Matteo’s meal and sets it down.

As his cock twitches beneath me, Matteo nods toward the plate. “Eat,” he tells me, voice as smooth as sweetened coffee. “I’m full from that decadent dessert I ate before dinner.”

His comment is innocent enough for anyone not in the walk-in closet with us, but the effect is immediate. The skin at my nape inflames, and Antonio pushes back from the table with a tight jaw and stormy eyes.

Years of plotting scream at me to watch him go, to analyze every step and flicker of emotion cracking through his polished exterior, but I can’t tear my eyes away from Matteo.

His arm is around me, his presence a protective shield. He’s making me feel something dangerously close to safe, and I refuse to give it up for anything.

Even revenge years in the making.

Chapter 17

Matteo

Nightclub lights flash in bursts of color, pulsing with the beat that vibrates through the floor. It’s a far cry from the polished ballroom where our night began. Neon signs replace the chandeliers, and speakers that rattle your ribs replace the string quartet.

Azra is the most carefree I’ve seen her.

It’s understandable. Not having her every move scrutinized by Antonio peeled a ton of weight off her shoulders. For the past two hours, she’s laughed, drunk, and danced with a handful of girls I recognize but can’t put a name to each face.

Don’t misunderstand me. Nico would break my jaw if I so much as breathed wrong near the redhead in the middle of the pack.

He swears he’s just looking out for her, claiming it’s a well-known role of the boyfriend of a deceased sibling. I know he’s full of shit.

He and Alora tiptoed around their feelings for months before Allegra inserted herself into their story, but since he arrives at my side, his smirk lazy and carefree, I’ll bookmark that story for another day.

“You look like Papa told you he’s tearing down the lemon groves,” Nico says, hands in his pockets, voice annoyingly calm.

I wish he were lying. The second the gala doors closed behind Antonio, the tension in my shoulders coiled tighter. I should feel victorious. Antonio scampering away from the table like a kicked dog should’ve been satisfying, but all I felt was a storm brewing under my skin.

Needing to cling to someone I can control, I flip my conversation with Nico on its head. “I know what you did.”

Nico blinks in feigned confusion. “WhatIdid?”

“Don’t play dumb.” My voice brims with danger. “You set me up because you knew I’d get hooked after just one taste.”

“I did no such thing.” He swishes his tongue around his mouth, loosening up his next words. “It was Giovanni’s plan. I just followed along.” He takes in my twitching jaw and clenched fists before dragging a hand through his hair. “I didn’t think it would actually work. The version of you I know would never face trouble fucking a woman and walking away. You’ve done it a thousand times.”

“We didn’t fuck,” I mutter without thinking. “And this isn’t a thousand times.”