“Do not call her that.” I snap, my features stony and unyielding.
His expression is one of surprise at first, but quickly turns amused. I immediately feel like I've given too much away. While Matteo has never been one to poke fun at anyone I was interested in previously, I've never really been interested in anyone long enough for him to learn their names.
“Ah, struck a nerve?” He chuckles, and I drop my shoulders.
I know Matteo would never disrespect me, or anyone I hold dear. It’s not his way. But he would endlessly tell me ‘I told you so,’ if I were to admit I had feelings for someone. He’s been dying for me to find someone for years. He knows better than anyone that I’m lonely, even though I would never admit such a weakness.
“Fuck off. Are you staying for dinner?” I want him to meet Vanessa, but part of me wishes I could keep her hidden away, all to myself.
“Of course. I have to meet this person who has captured your attention so completely. She must be quite a woman.” He smirks, and I already know I’m in for a hell of an evening.
“Quite a woman? Talking about me, are you?” As if I’ve manifested her from thin air, Vanessa comes sauntering into the room wearing a pair of high-waisted black linen pants and a white cropped shirt.
She is so different from any other woman I’ve known, so simple yet still sophisticated in her own way. Her dark curls are piled in a messy twist with tendrils framing her face, and I don’t think I've ever been so tempted to kiss her before. But I’m interested to see how this plays out. She brushed me off when we got here, making me feel like she didn’t want anyone to know anything about us. I’m not a fucking teenager. The allure of sneaking around for midnight trysts is completely lost on me. If that’s what she's looking for, she’ll have to find it somewhere else. Even if the idea of her finding anything from any other man makes me feel a murderous rage I’ve never experienced before.
“Of course. Please join us. Vanessa, this is Matteo Gallo. My oldest and closest friend. Matteo, this is Vanessa Diaz.” She takes his hand, and my fists clench at my sides.
“Ms. Diaz. The pleasure is most definitely all mine, I assure you.” He kisses her hand softly, exaggerating his accent. He’sonly doing this to get a rise out of me, and unfortunately, it’s working. “Had I known they were keeping such ravishing women in America, I might have spent more time there.”
“Oh, you’re one ofthosemen, Mr. Gallo?” Vanessa replies, and I almost laugh out loud. She got his number right from the start.
Matteo’s brows raise in shock. She never fell for my charm. I don’t know why she would ever fall for his. Matteo is a good man, truly one of the best I've ever known. He would lay down his life for those he loves. But he is the very definition of Casanova himself.
“I should apologize, Teo. I should’ve told you she’s completely immune to the seductions of Italian men. Unless your name is Sebastian, of course.” I circle behind her, watching her shiver at my words.
Pulling out the chair next to mine, I gesture for Vanessa to sit, and she obeys. The simple act shouldn’t turn me on, but my cock stiffening behind my zipper has different ideas. Pushing the thought from my mind, I take my seat at the head of the table. Matteo watches Vanessa skeptically, as if she’s a puzzle he's trying like hell to solve.
The chef, Marco, a younger man I poached from a Michelin-star restaurant in Rome, comes into the dining room to greet us. His eyes immediately find Vanessa, lingering on her perfect, shapely body a second longer than I find acceptable. I clear my throat, glaring at him in a way that conveys my disdain. He quickly straightens, hurrying around the table to pour the wine.
“Good evening, Mr. Arsenio. I’ve prepared a fantastic menu for you tonight to celebrate your return home. Coda alla vaccinara, your favorite. Antonio will return in a few moments with your first course.” He nods, turning to leave the room.
But he must be the dumbest fucker that ever lived, because his gaze rakes over Vanessa yet again and my blood pressurespikes. Matteo laughs under his breath, watching my patience quickly unravel.
“Marco, please wait one moment.” I do my best to regain my composure. I don’t want to terrify the man. I really do enjoy his cooking. But he needs to understand there will be consequences if he doesn’t control his actions.
“Is there something I can do for you, sir?” Marco asks, a slight tremor in his voice.
“Yes. You can keep your eyes and your thoughts off Ms. Diaz, unless you would like me to remove both from your skull.” Slipping the dagger I keep tucked into the back of my waistband into my hand, I spin it once, looking him dead in the eyes before stabbing it forcefully into the wood of the table in front of me. The glassware clinks together, and Vanessa jumps slightly, but says nothing. Matteo wants to laugh so badly, but he’s doing his best to hold it together. He knows I’m deadly serious. I’ve given less warning to better men before removing fingers, ears, or chunks of flesh as repayment for their disrespect.
Marco stares around the table, stunned and possibly unsure if I mean what I'm threatening. But deep down, he knows this is not a threat. This is a promise of what’s to come if he doesn’t change his behavior. Realizing no one here is on his side, he quickly straightens, nodding his understanding.
“My apologies. To you and Ms. Diaz. Antonio will be in with hors d’oeuvres as soon as possible.” He bows slightly, rushing from the room.” He bows slightly, rushing from the room.
As soon as he rounds the corner, Matteo dissolves into a fit of laughter. Fucker. Pulling my blade from the wood, I smooth over the divot it created. Rosetta is going to kill me. This table is over a hundred years old, handcrafted in some monastery in Spain. It is a truly beautiful piece, but after a hundred years, it’s bound to have a few nicks and gashes.
“Was that really necessary?” Vanessa asks, seeming a little irritated by my outburst.
“They will learn what is appropriate in your presence and what is not. This is how.” I say simply, leaving no room for argument.
“Yes, I understand. But did you have to take it out on this beautiful table?” She glides her hands across the smooth wood, and I find myself wondering if this woman is just as unhinged as I am. Have I met my match in her?
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Matteo mumbles, rubbing his head. “È perfetta per te, fratello.”
“If you’re going to say things about me, say them in English. At least until I can learn the language,” Vanessa replies, rolling the stem of her wineglass between her fingers as she peers over at Matteo. Her expression is mischievous, and I'm glad someone will finally give him a run for his money.
“He said you are perfect for me, Bambina.” I tell her, and her slight smile tells me she agrees.
“Oh, I already knew that. I’m beautiful, I’m hilarious, I’m successful, how could I not be perfect for anyone?” She sips her wine, and Matteo snorts out a laugh.