so instinctive, I was convinced it was written into my DNA. The world melted into oblivion. Matthew was no longer Matthew Luca Zola, brother, uncle, grandson, assistant district attorney currently prosecuting my husband. And I was no longer Nina Evelyn Astor de Vries Gardner, second grandchild to the de Vries family, mother, and wife of an alleged criminal.
Together, we had no positions, no people, no pasts to keep us apart.
I cried out, but the sounds were swallowed by his kisses, by the rumble of his voice. Matthew gasped, and his movements shook the bed beneath us, the very core of who we were.
Together, we had no names. We ceased to be two separate people.
Lost, yet found.
Wild, yet tamed.
That word swelled again.
Together we were home.
Chapter Six
“So, what happened today, doll?”
I looked up from where I was still buried in a nest of down comforter and Egyptian cotton. Not quite the same as the fifteen-hundred-thread-count sateen I usually slept on, but in its own way nicer, courtesy of the warm afternoon light pouring through the drapes and the deep green eyes of the man with me. It was funny, in spite of the being the epitome of luxury and comfort, my suite at home still felt like the center of a jail. And my jailer could unlock the doors and violate that sanctity—as he had done last night—any time he wanted. Especially now.
Dread settled over me like a thick mask. The idea of leaving this room, this man, was utterly asphyxiating.
The desire between Matthew and me had quieted to a simmer instead of the hot summer boil.
I still wanted him. I’d always want him. But reality pressed on the cool glass walls of this lovely room.
How could something that felt so unbelievably right be so terribly wrong for both of us? I was married. Matthew was investigating my husband. We were both at risk, even with just a text.
But the thought of leaving all over again made me feel like I was cutting off my own arm. I had never felt anything like this before. Not for Peppe. Certainly never for Calvin. The closest thing was for my daughter. And even with her…no, it wasn’t the same.
Our time was nearly up. Matthew was already half-dressed in his pants while he ironed out his shirt. His smooth, even motions made the sinewy muscles of his chest, arms, even his abdominals move in elegant concert. He had no idea what a graceful creature he was—I truly loved watching him complete even the simplest tasks. If the city was a jungle, Matthew was its panther. A king cat, always on the prowl.
When I didn’t answer his question, he stopped ironing and looked up. His full lips curled into another roguish grin.
“Enjoying the view?”
I didn’t even bother to hide it. I never had to with him. “Of course I am. You’re beautiful.”
Matthew opened his mouth as if to joke again, but frowned at my tone. I was trying for light but couldn’t quite manage it. In less than a second, he had abandoned his shirt and moved back to sit beside me on the bed. He twirled a lock of my hair, winding it around his finger like a ring before letting it go.
“There it is again,” he remarked. “That face. I don’t like it. Five weeks since we talked or anything, and you text me out of the blue. What’s going on?”
My stomach squeezed. He couldn’t possibly know how badly I wished the rings on my finger matched one on his instead of the husband I would rather never see again. I’d give up every dollar in my bank account, every sumptuous fabric in that penthouse if it meant I could stay here with him.
“Is it the guilt?” he asked quietly. “Is it too much?”
He dropped my hair to toy with the white gold chain around his neck. On it dangled a crucifix and a medallion of San Gennaro, the patron saint of Naples, where his grandfather was born. He was given the cross at fourteen—after his father died and Matthew was confirmed. The other piece was his grandfather’s, who had passed some years back. Both were grim, almost gruesome reminders of family, pride, and faith.
I understood the first two very well. After all, until I met this man, my entire life had been shaped by the fact that I was a member of the great de Vries family and needed to maintain their pride (and thereby, mine). We had room for one black sheep,