No, this one night together was it, and the sooner Matteo accepted it, the better.
Even if it made his chest hurt and his head ache.
A quick shower before pulling on the formal trousers and shirt from yesterday, a hand run roughly through the dampness of his hair, and he’d come looking for Grace. He’d found her in the kitchen feeding the large ginger cat that, once it had eaten, lifted its nose and tail in the air and walked past Matteo as if to say, See, I come first, not you.
Grace was wearing a pair of black sweats low on her hips this morning, teamed with a fitted pale green vest top, obviously her choice of leisure wear for when she was at home. Her hair was gathered up and secured at her crown in a messy bun, leaving the slenderness of her neck and nape bare except for several loose tendrils that had escaped the black scrunchie.
Grace appeared somehow smaller this morning.
Fragile.
The fact she hadn’t even turned to look at him—couldn’t look at him?—only added to that impression of vulnerability.
Had he done this to her?
Had giving him that one night taken something from Grace that she could never take back?
Their lovemaking last night had been beyond anything, a closeness to another human being Matteo had ever experienced before. But that didn’t mean Grace felt the same way about it. They’d been so careful not to mention emotions during the night other than what pleasured them.
“I asked if you wanted coffee?”
“Oh my God…” Matteo gasped, Grace having finally turned to look at him.
Not only could he now see the pallor of her face and the shadows of sleeplessness beneath her eyes, but also the half a dozen or so bruised love bites scattered down her throat and across her shoulders. Bites Matteo had deliberately inflicted during their lovemaking in an effort to mark her, to claim her, to have her remember him, at least until that discoloration faded.
He stepped forward to lightly grasp her shoulders. “I’m so sorry— No, I’m not,” he dismissed his apology impatiently. “I’m not in the least sorry,” he stated firmly. “If I had my way, you would have ‘Property of Matteo Zalotti’ tattooed across your forehead.”
Grace hadn’t known whether to be angry or inwardly pleased when she looked in the bathroom mirror this morning and saw not only the red abrasions on her skin from where Matteo’s stubble had scratched her, but also the half dozen love bites he’d given her when their passions were at their highest.
Now she couldn’t stop herself from laughing at his typical high-handedness. “Property of Matteo Zalotti?” she repeated mockingly. “Really?”
“Really.”
“And I thought you were a caveman last night!”
“Where you’re concerned, yes.” His expression softened. “This can’t be the end, Grace. You can’t ask me to just walk away from you.”
“I can’t?”
He shook his head. “Last night was… I don’t even know how to begin to describe how I feel about last night.” His gaze held hers. “How I feel about you,” he added huskily.
Grace knew how she felt about Matteo, but… “We had an agreement of one night, Matteo.” She slipped out of his grasp and stepped away. “Now I’d like you to leave.”
A nerve noticeably pulsed in his jaw. “Grace, I—”
“No.” Grace quickly silenced him. “I have to get ready for work, and you are joining your sister and her husband for breakfast,” she reminded.
He scowled his irritation. “You’re going to just calmly go off to work as if none of this ever happened and expect me to do the same?”
“Yes.”
He winced at the firmness of her tone. “You can shut me out, just like that?”
“I never let you in.”
Angry color appeared along his cheekbones. “That’s a lie—”
She gave a shake of her head. “We had sex together. Incredible sex,” she conceded when his eyes narrowed. “But now it’s over, and it’s time for you to fulfil your commitment to your sister.”
He reached out to grasp the tops of Grace’s arms. “Have lunch with me today? Dinner? Any-fucking-thing,” he voiced his frustration when Grace shook her head to his first two invitations.
Grace wanted to say yes! To lunch, to dinner, to anything that would allow her to see and be with Matteo again.
But she had allowed herself one night with Matteo and no more. To go against that decision would only be asking for more heartache when he walked away. Because he would walk away. Tomorrow. Next week. Maybe next month. But Matteo would eventually leave her behind.
Grace knew from experience that powerful men like Matteo Zalotti craved and wanted more power, and one of the ways of achieving that was to form alliances with other criminal organizations, such as the one he now had with the Russian bratva.
Another way was to marry a woman whose family would give him that power, which was the reason her father had married her mother. Admittedly, he had fallen madly in love with his Spanish wife to the point of obsession, but the initial reason for the marriage had been much more prosaic. Marriage to a Mendoza had given her father’s family an alliance with the Spanish Mafia.
It was because Grace had grown up knowing all this that she also knew hard and ruthless men like Matteo didn’t allow themselves to fall in love.
Yes, Matteo wanted her now, but it wouldn’t last. Greed and ambition would raise their ugly heads the moment Matteo saw a way of advancing the Zalotti family power. When that happened, he would walk away from Grace without a backward glance to see how his abandonment had affected her.
Better to end this now than further down the road, when she loved him even more than she did now.
Matteo had no idea what Grace’s thoughts had been just now, but whatever they were, he could now see the fresh resolve in her expression. She wasn’t
