“And I can tell her you’re fine till I’m blue in the face, but she isn’t going to believe me if you don’t look fine.” Bryce shook his head. “What was so special about Grace?” he prompted curiously. “Tell me about her,” he encouraged huskily.
He released a shuddering breath he hadn’t even known he’d been holding, as if just being able to talk about Grace had eased the tight vise about his chest. “She’s gorgeous, but in an understated way. She’s about five foot six inches tall. Her figure is willowy, but gracefully so, like a ballet dancer rather than a model. Her hair is long and curly and a glorious shade of—”
“Red?”
Matteo gave Bryce a startled glance. “Yes,” he answered slowly when Bryce returned his gaze innocently. “Her features are delicate, and dominated by eyes of the deepest—”
“Green?”
He glared at the other man. “What the hell, Bryce?”
His brother-in-law grinned. “Don’t worry, I haven’t suddenly become psychic.” He gave Matteo’s shoulder a squeeze. “There’s a woman standing over in the doorway I’m pretty sure wasn’t on our guest list, which leads me to suspect she might be on yours.”
Matteo, having turned sharply to look toward the doorway and seen an uncertain Grace glancing nervously about the room, was no longer listening to the other man. Instead, he was already halfway across the room, intent on getting to Grace before she turned tail and ran, which, from her deer-in-the-headlights expression, she looked set to do any second.
Until she saw him walking toward her.
The look of relief and the smile that then lit up her face caused a warmth to spread and grow in Matteo’s chest.
He reached out to grasp both her hands in his as soon as he was close enough to do so. “You came.”
Color brightened the pallor of her cheeks. “Well, let’s try to avoid me doing that in the middle of your sister’s wedding reception, shall we?”
Matteo chuckled. “I’m not guaranteeing anything with you looking this beautiful.” He admired her appearance in the calf-length dark green gown that hugged her slender curves, and the green high-heeled sandals that added another three inches to her height. Her hair cascaded in a riot of loose red curls over her shoulders and down her spine. As usual, she wore little makeup, but then, she didn’t need to. Her complexion was naturally creamy, her lashes long and dark, and her lips a deep rose color. “No, I’m definitely not guaranteeing anything,” he repeated gruffly.
Grace had absolutely no idea what she was doing here.
She had felt relieved yesterday when Matteo left the bookstore. Had listened to Carla after the other woman came to her office and listed all the illegal things and the killings Matteo had ordered carried out, or was believed to be personally responsible for, and why Grace should stay well away from him.
Grace already knew, or had guessed, most of that.
Yet she still hadn’t been able to stop tormenting herself with thoughts of Matteo.
Last night, when she was alone in her apartment.
This morning, when she woke up.
Later, working at the bookstore.
This afternoon, once she was at home again.
All the time knowing he was at his sister’s wedding and she had an open invitation to join him there.
Matteo’s business card, which Grace had yesterday thrown in the bin before taking it out again and stashing it out of sight in the card section of her purse, had seemed to silently mock her.
By five thirty she’d had enough of tormenting herself. By six o’clock, she’d taken the business card from her purse to look on the back of it, where Matteo had written down exactly where he would be today and when. By seven o’clock, she had already taken a bath and changed into the one dress she had which she thought suitable for a wedding reception. A cab had dropped her off outside this hotel at exactly seven fifteen.
Which was when Grace had taken a deep breath and paused to ask herself what on earth she was doing here when she’d spent years distancing herself from men like Matteo.
The answer was all too obvious.
Matteo admitted to being obsessed with her, and Grace now had to accept that, no matter how irresponsible or ill-advised it was on her part, she was just as obsessed with him. Why else would she have responded so wantonly on both occasions he had made love to her?
The men she’d dated since moving to England had been mild-mannered and…well, nice, but also bland. Deliberately so. She’d already had, Grace thought, all the excitement she ever wanted in her life.
But Matteo refused to be banished from her thoughts, nor could she deny the physical response those wayward thoughts of him engendered. Her nipples hardened. Her heartbeat raced. Her breathing became labored. Between her thighs—God, between her thighs ached, and her juices wet her panties rather than just dampened them.
So she had stood on the pavement outside, gazing up at the glass-and-chrome frontage of the exclusive hotel, knowing she should leave. Instead, her sandaled feet had moved of their own volition and taken her inside the building rather than away from it. Once inside, there had been clear directions to the wedding reception of Bryce and Bella. Directions that Grace, keeping her mind deliberately blank, had simply followed.
“You look very handsome in your wedding regalia,” she now complimented Matteo.
Because he did: the light-gray morning suit and dark waistcoat, matched with a white shirt and pale blue cravat, were all tailored perfectly to his muscular shoulders and chest and the trimness of his waist. Most men who were part of an official wedding party hired their wedding suits on the basis they would probably never wear it again, but Grace had a feeling that didn’t apply to Matteo. The formal clothing fit him too well and the cloth looked too expensive to have come from a hire shop.
Matteo tucked one of her hands into the crook of his arm and held it there. “Let me introduce you to Bella and Bryce, and then I’d like to dance with you. Okay?”
Grace’s stomach gave a jolt at the suggestion of meeting Matteo’s sister and her new husband, but it was the thought of dancing with Matteo that caused her heart to race and between her thighs to heat. The fluidity in the way he moved told her he would be an excellent dancer. “Okay,” she heard her husky reply.
Grace’s nervousness increased as they moved through the crowded room to where she could see the bride in her beautiful white wedding gown. Over by the stage, where the musicians were getting ready to play for the evening, were half a dozen beautiful women standing with the same number of muscular, handsome, and dangerous-looking men. A danger their formal suits couldn’t, and didn’t, disguise. One in particular had long dark hair and was built like a tank.
“Bryce’s eldest brother, Atticus,” Matteo informed her dryly when he noticed her staring at the other man. “The four men with him are more of Bryce’s brothers and their wives or partners. Standing next to them, because they’re good friends of Bryce’s, is Gregori Markovic and Nikolai Volkov and their wives.”
Grace shifted her gaze to the blond-haired man and the dark-haired one, both of them devastatingly handsome. She also knew them to be the head of the Russian bratva and his second and head of security.
She shook her head. “I would comment on the strange friends your brother-in-law has, but…” She gave Matteo a pointed glance. “It’s like a meeting of the London crime bosses in here! All you need are the heads of the Irish, Romanian, and the Albanian syndicates, and you’ll have a full set.”
“Could we not discuss such things at my sister’s wedding?” Matteo requested firmly.
She winced when she saw that his mouth had tightened and his gaze grown glacial. “I’m sorry.” She had spoken more out of self-consciousness than any intention of being insulting. “I’m a little nervous,” she admitted. They had been garnering more than their share of curious glances as they crossed the room together.
Matteo’s expression immediately softened. “Don’t be.” He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
“My sister will enjoy meeting you, and the rest of us are only here to give our good wishes to Bella and Bryce on their wedding day.”
It was still more than a little unnerving to know there were so many powerful and dangerous men in the room.
Powerful and dangerous men, Grace realized as she watched them, who were all deeply in love with, and eager to please, the woman standing at their side. Not in a pussy-whipped way; it was just easy to see they were deeply in love with their women and didn’t care who knew it.
That was a surprise to Grace. The arguments she remembered between her father and mother had all been related to the fact her father professed to love her mother in private but treated her like shit whenever his men or male friends were around. When her mother told him she couldn’t live like that anymore and she was leaving him, he had shot her and then himself. Robbing Grace of both her parents had been his ultimate act of selfishness, as far as she was concerned.
“Earth to Grace.”
She dragged her thoughts back from the past to realize they were now standing in front of Matteo’s sister. “Sorry.” She smiled brightly. “Your dress is absolutely beautiful,” she complimented once Matteo had introduced the two women.
“Thank you.” Bella beamed, a dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty. “I’m so pleased you were able to join us.”
“You are?”
Bella nodded. “I told Matteo to invite you but had no idea whether or not he had.” She gave a shake of her head. “Men can be so secretive at times!”
“He did invite me, but I hadn’t told him yes or no.”
“Well, I’m so glad you decided on yes. My big brother has been like a bear with a sore head all day.”
“He has?”
Bella nodded. “Did you like the flowers he gave you, and did he grovel?”
Grace’s eyes widened as she slowly turned to look at Matteo. She knew he’d taken advice from his brother-in-law, but exactly how much had he told his sister? Hopefully not the reason he’d needed to buy her flowers in the first place!
Matteo held both hands up defensively. “I didn’t tell her a thing.”
Bella giggled. “He really didn’t. I only overheard the part of the conversation where Bryce was telling him he needed to buy you flowers to apologize and to grovel while doing it. A lot.”
Grace gave Matteo a mocking glance before answering the other woman. “Unfortunately, I crushed most of the flowers when Matteo pushed me facedown over my own desk. But he did get down on his knees after that. Although I’m pretty sure there was no groveling involved. Does that count?” she asked innocently.
“What the fu—” Matteo cut off his expletive as, after a short, stunned silence, Bella began to laugh.
In fact, his sister laughed so hard and for so long as Matteo felt his face suffuse with heat, he could see there were tears running down Bella’s cheeks by the time she was able to talk again. “You’ll do nicely, Grace Morrissey.” Bella squeezed the other woman’s arm. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She glanced across the room. “I believe it’s time for me to join my husband for the first dance of the evening.”
“My God,” Matteo murmured appreciatively once a glowing Bella had left them to join Bryce on the dance floor. “There’s a naughty edge to you that’s so fucking sexy, I want to take you right here and right now.”
It was Grace’s turn to laugh.
Chapter Nine
“So you and Matteo are together?”
Grace turned from watching Matteo as he performed his brother—rather than father—of the bride dance with Bella. She had been right, Matteo had a natural grace and rhythm that allowed him to move easily and assuredly as he guided his sister around the dance floor. With no bride’s parents present, Bryce was dancing with his mother.
The smile faded from Grace’s lips when she found herself looking at the blond-haired man Matteo had told her was Nikolai Volkov, second-in-command and head of security for the Russian bratva. “I wouldn’t say that, no,” she answered guardedly.
Pale blue eyes narrowed in a handsome face that was all sharp angles. “Then what would you say?”
She shrugged. “That Matteo invited me to join him for the evening, and I accepted.”
“You—”
“Excuse us, Nikolai,” the man Matteo had told her was Atticus Steele, one of Bryce’s brothers, cut in. “This is our dance, I believe?” He held out his arm to Grace.
They both knew, probably Nikolai Volkov did too, that it couldn’t be their dance when she hadn’t even been introduced to Atticus. “So it is.” She linked her arm through his and allowed him to take her out onto the dance floor, where a dozen or so other couples had now joined the bride and groom and their partners. “That was very kind of you, thank you.”
Atticus chuckled, dispelling some of the don’t-fuck-with-me air he carried around with him like a second skin. “Nikolai can be a little…intense, but he usually means well,” he dismissed. “So, Matteo, hmm?” he drawled as he waltzed her, surprisingly light-footed, around the dance floor. “My mother insisted on all her sons learning to dance,” he added when he saw her surprised expression.
“She’s obviously a very wise woman.”
“Obviously.” Atticus nodded. “But don’t think for a moment you’ve diverted my attention from my original question. My wife…” he nodded toward the freckle-faced, red-haired, and green-eyed woman dancing with another of the Steele brothers, “…will never forgive me if I don’t have all the gossip on you and Matteo by the end of our dance together.”
Grace found herself liking this long-haired man who looked as if he should be head of a motorcycle club rather than joint owner with his brothers of a security company. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but there isn’t any gossip. Matteo and I barely know each other.” Literally bare, on her part! “He asked me to his sister’s wedding, and here I am.”
Atticus chuckled. “We both know there’s a lot more to that statement than that. Don’t worry about it,” he dismissed as their dance came to an end. “I’ll just tell my wife the two of you are fucking like rabbits and suggest we go somewhere private and do the same. Weddings do it for her every time, and we’ve been to a lot of them lately,” he added with obvious relish.
Grace couldn’t hold back her splutter of laughter. “Don’t let me delay you.”
He bent over her hand and lightly brushed his lips over her knuckles before straightening and releasing her. “There are a few empty rooms farther down the hallway, all with locks on the doors, if you and Matteo decide you don’t want to waste time going up to his hotel suite.”
“You already checked?” she teased.
“Hell, yes!” Atticus growled without apology before leaving her to go in search of his wife.
“I asked the musicians to play a tango. Dance with me?”
Grace didn’t need to turn to know that Matteo was doing the asking. It wasn’t only the huskiness of his voice or the way it sent shivers of awareness down her spine; she had also recognized the subtlety of his aftershave and male musk before he even spoke. She could also feel the heat of his body standing so close behind her own.
“Argentinian style,” Matteo added.
Grace knew a normal tango could be sensual, but an Argentinian one was even more so, as it was usually totally improvised by the couple dancing. Having seen the elegance and style with which Matteo danced a waltz, Grace had no doubt he would be amazing performing the tango.
Could she do this?
The dance lessons she’d taken when she was younger meant she knew how, but…
She turned to face Matteo. “Mr. Volkov doesn’t seem particularly enamored with the fact you invited me here.”
He turned his narrowed gaze toward the Russian, a look the other man returned, resulting in the two men engaging in what appeared to be a silent battle of fuck-you glances. Matteo eventually turned his attention back to Grace. “Mr. Volkov can kiss my— He can keep his opinions to himself in regard to what I do or don’
t do,” Matteo stated grimly before his expression softened. “Dance with me. Please.” He held out his arms for Grace to step into.
Once again, that “please” did it for Grace, even though she had no doubt the next few minutes were going to be the height of sensuality and that Matteo would be in complete control of them. And her.
The moment the two of them stepped onto the dance floor, she could feel the thrum of the music reverberating through the wood beneath her feet. Encouraging. Enticing. Tempting.
In the same way Matteo, the way he looked and his air of complete self-confidence, had been tempting Grace into uncharacteristic actions from the moment they first looked at each other just days ago.
But she had no time to dwell on the right or wrongness of those actions, couldn’t think or see anything else but Matteo right now. His gaze remained fixed on hers, one of her hands held in his and his other arm placed firmly about her waist as he easily swung her into the dance.
The next few minutes were…beyond sensual and bordering on erotic.
Matteo continued to hold her gaze as he thrust one of his legs between hers, the high heels of her shoes allowing them to be touching at the chest and thighs.
He tipped her back at the waist until her hair brushed the floor and her clit was pressed against the hardness of his cock. He kept their bodies close even after he had snapped her back into an upright position, the two of them molded together as they moved around the dance floor as one unit. Around. Down. Up. Matteo effortlessly controlled their every movement without once moving his gaze from hers.
Grace was breathless by the time Matteo once again bent her back, this time over one of his thighs, and the music ended with a loud crescendo.
There was only the sound of their ragged breathing as they continued to stare at each other, before the applause started and then rose in volume.
MATTEO (Dance with the Devil 1) Page 6