ay of making

harp bursts. Matteo didn't believe in taking it easy - not even for a beginner. No soft introductions

raid to hit back," he said, circl

right opening." His lip twitched in something that might've been amusem

wisted, slammed my elbow into his side. Not hard

u might actually stay alive after all."

ap below. This high up, everything looked cleaner - softer - like the violence didn't reach this far. But I knew better. Matteo joined me, his shirt half u

be harder to kno

face him. "You don't strike me as the kind of man who lets anyon

now," he said. "Elena." H

w crossed

mistake." I waited for mor

heels sharp enough to be weapons. The gallery opening was Matteo's idea - a public place, neutral ground. L

said tha

sion didn't change - but the way he stood did. Str

like old whiskey. I smiled, accepting the champagne

expect you to look lik

ke tr

n crawl and heat all at once. "Some

ngerous. "Tell that to th

pened to him?" He leaned in

flinch. "Then maybe he wasn'

n't exist. But beneath every smile, every sip of champagne, was the understanding that this wasn't flirtati

o waited for me in the kitche

l?" he

ut he wants to." "That'

an hand

an y

floor. "I'm not the same girl who

Regret? Possession? He moved closer. "But remember, Amara, he's not just the enemy. He's a Santoro.

n - once at a charity auction, once at a rooftop bar where he pretended to be surprised I

ay his eyes lingered when he thought I wasn't watching. He was trying to figure me out. I had t

tch that left my ribs sore and my pride bru

esitating,

thin

top.

eed

"No

life, thinking gets you killed. You move. You strike. You survive." "I'm not afraid

eo let

o," he replied, his voice low, unr

lsed below. I thought about Luca's eyes. Matteo's hands. My own reflection. I was

belonged. In the fire.

lt him - the scent of his cologne on the pillow, the ghost of his touch on my skin. I shouldn't have let it get this far. I told myself it was part of the plan. That letting him in made it easier to play both sides. But deep down, I knew the truth: I was losing control. Of him. Of Luca. Of myself. I climbed out o

ailed. Not the kind that made you stop

didn'

ere was nowhe