Chapter 2

MATTEO I hated being at this ball. It was a stupid tradition my father had kept over the years, and I was sick of it. It was meant to keep a normal facade for our family, pushing out to whoever cared to look, that everything we did was normal. But what people didn't know was, we still had some of the best underground deals made in this very ball. But I still hated it. "You should wipe that scowl off your face, brother. You are the host now." Rafael mocked from where he stood next to me as we looked down at the crowd below us. While I would have preferred to greet my brother's teeth with my knuckles, this wasn't the time or the place as my eyes settled on the entrance. "Shut up. And keep an eye out, will you? I want to make this quick as fuck and be outta here." I hissed, then walked away from him. Just then, the doors opened, and I saw just the man I was looking for. I wasted no time making eye contact with two of my men, before making my way towards him. Alberto Moretti. Just the man I wanted to see. "And here I was, thinking you would keep your head low, considering the number of people you owe money. Who also happen to be in this room with us." Alberto looked like a deer caught in headlights. I could see him visibly swallow, and his eyes dart around us. "Don Matteo, I was just honoring your invitation." He said, adjusting his tie as he looked straight at me. I had to give it to him. Even if I could see he was visibly shaken, the man managed to maintain a stable tone. I smirked. "I see." My eyes narrowed at him. "I don't see your family with you. Were you so scared that you decided to come alone?" He chuckled. "Of course not. My wife and daughter had to go back to the car to get something. I wasn't going to stand there and wait for them." The tone he used as he mentioned his daughter was... something... "I got your message." He chuckled nervously. "Ahh. Straight to the point I see." I allowed my lips to curl slightly. "You have the nerve, Alberto. Asking me for money." Oh, how I enjoyed the change in his expression. "You are useless... worthless to me. Why would you think for a minute, that I would give you any money when you have nothing to give me back?" The man swallowed, again. "I swear I would do anything. Anything..." But I wasn't hearing anything he said anymore as my gaze shifted to the entrance and two women walked in. My eyes, though, were only focused on one. Clad in the blackest gown I have ever seen, that shimmered as she moved, I could say that that was the most stunning woman I had ever seen. Her dark curly hair was styled to perfection, sleeked back in a half-up, half-down style, that for a minute there, I wished she had just let the whole thing loose. My hands itched to slip into those curls and test what they felt like. Her skin contrasted greatly against the colors of her dress. And that scandalous slit that revealed her legs almost made my mouth dry. I tore my gaze away from her thighs and let them settle on her face. I wasn't standing so far, so I could see that she had the lightest hint of makeup on. Those lips, painted a blush pink, were to die for... And her eyes... My thoughts came to a halt as recognition dawned on me. I knew that face. Heck, how could I forget the one woman... Isabella Moretti. How... when... Just how? The last time I had seen Isabella, she hadn't been... The wheels turned in my head as she came to a stop just feet away from us and turned to her mother with a small frown on her face. They appeared to be having a small disagreement, but I could care less as I turned to Alberto, who kept on yapping. "Alberto," I simply said, shutting him up. "You said you would do anything..." I remembered the first line from his boring speech. The man nodded eagerly at me. "Anything?" I asked again... and when he confirmed, I slipped my hands in my pocket, then flickered my gaze to Isabella, who hadn't noticed us yet. "I'll have your daughter then." I smirked. "I'll have Isabella as my wife." Alberto blinked at me, then turned to the direction where Isabella stood, and I watched as he scratched the back of his head, then turned back to me with a look I recognized all too well. Greed. I could see in his eyes as he calculated just how much he was about to land. “In exchange for my debt?” He asked. But behind those words, I knew he wanted more. Men like him disgusted me, but I wasn’t very different. And I hated repeating myself. “That. And more.” I mean, I could afford it. ISABELLA I shouldn't have come here. That was the thought that kept repeating itself in my head from the moment I got into the car with my parents. Alberto had made sure to remind me just how useless I was to the family and how they wished I was more like my sister, Clarissa, who they adored like we didn’t share the same blood. We had arrived, only for my father to declare we come in a little later after him. It was a bit surprising since it would have been just me he left out of his grand entrance. But tonight, he had also left his wife too. My mom. "I am going to look for your father. Make sure you don’t do anything stupid," my mum said a few minutes after we finally got in. Then, without waiting for my reply, she walked away, leaving me standing there alone. I bit the inside of my lip, then looked around. Sophie had texted me earlier to say she was running late, so now, I was on my own. I had just adjusted the slit of my dress when I felt it—the weight of someone's gaze on me. Strangely, it didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. Instead, I found myself drawn to it, raising my head and looking around until my gaze rested on the source. Awareness flooded my veins as I locked eyes with the very last person I wanted to be looking at—Matteo De Santis. Standing there, in all his 6-foot-2 glory, Matteo looked as handsome as ever. His perfectly tailored black suit fit him like a glove. No tie. The first two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing just enough skin to make the ladies swoon. His muscular frame was evident beneath the fabric, making me painfully aware of his physical presence. I tore my gaze away from his body and looked at his face. Big mistake. Those full lips immediately curled into a smile, sending shockwaves through me. What were the odds that four years later, I'd be locking eyes with the same man, in the exact same way? And why was Matteo looking at me? As if my body could handle any more shock, he began moving in my direction. My legs refused to move, betraying me, leaving me rooted to the spot. Shit! Shit! Shit! "Isabella Moretti," Matteo said once he was standing in front of me. His tone was mocking as hell. I was immediately hit with a cologne that had me wanting more—a hint of spice, mixed with something I couldn’t quite describe… he smelled like spring, sunshine, and winter all at once. Fuck... Isa, get a grip on yourself! "Hello, Mr. De Santis," I surprised myself by speaking smoothly, even though my insides were screaming. I couldn’t even look at his face now that he was so close to me. He cleared his throat, then seemed to look around before his gaze settled on me again. "For someone who holds the position you do in the De Santis Empire, and well, in my father’s affairs, it’s a shame this is the first time we’re speaking face-to-face." A frown graced my forehead. He was right, but my thumping heart may or may not have expected us to be talking about my job. "Uh… yeah..." I croaked, unsure how to answer or what to say to him. "So tell me, what was it like working with Iglesias?" My frown deepened. I looked up at his face and was almost startled by how beautiful he looked up close. Now, I understood why women were drawn to him. Matteo De Santis was a carbon copy of Iglesias, and even more. His face looked like it had been made by the gods. From his dark curly hair to his smooth forehead, and down to his icy blue-grey eyes. I swear, he belonged on an island somewhere, dressed in golden robes. His nose was straight and sharp, and those lips... "If you’re done ogling my face, you can answer my question, Moretti," he drawled, slamming me back to reality. I struggled to remember his question. "Uh… Iglesias was a... very good boss. It was great working with him." I answered, tearing my gaze from his face and focusing instead on his chest. Which was a big mistake. Were those hairs trying to peek from the opening of his shirt...? "Hmm... That’s good then. How about you tell me all about it while we dance?" Wait... what? It was on my lips to protest, but Matteo didn’t look like he was asking. He was demanding it. From around us, I could hear faint whispers and saw the occasional side glances. Of course, they would wonder what the heir to the De Santis empire was doing with Moretti’s daughter—well, least favorite daughter. "Aheem..." Matteo raised his hand to me. "Fine..." I murmured, trying my best to calm my stomach, which was swimming with butterflies. I was about to dance with the man I had crushed on four years ago. A small gasp left my lips once I placed my hand in his. The warmth of his hand closing around mine sent electricity straight from my hand to my chest. Why was I so affected by this man? I should be disliking him now. He had the wrongest reputation for someone who claimed to be mysterious... "Now, Isabella, how close were you to my father?" His voice was smooth, even as we moved on the dancefloor, low enough for only me to hear. I blinked, still disturbed by the close proximity. His voice, his warmth, his touch, his freaking cologne. It was all too much. "I, uh, apart from my accounting duties, ran personal errands for Iglesias." I murmured, then bit the inside of my lip when his other hand wrapped around my waist. Thank goodness I had chosen to ditch the backless gown Sophie had picked. Matteo’s hand burned through the material of my dress. It could have been worse on my bare skin. Goosebumps flooded every exposed area of my skin. "I see. So you were his personal assistant too?" Why was he asking all these questions? "Yes. Sometimes." If I hadn’t been so good at my job, Iglesias would have made me work as his full-time personal assistant. I felt a twinge of sadness at his death. But we both knew he didn’t have much time left. Not after... No, I wasn’t going to think about that now. "So, I assume you know enough to know that this family is not one you should mess with, right, Isabella?" His tone had changed, now more serious. I looked up to see that his face was void of any expression. I swallowed, a little bit afraid now. For a moment, I had forgotten who I was dancing with. But why then did my body not stop reacting to him? "Yes, Mr. De Santis." The next question hit me like a rock. "So... why is the daughter of Alberto Moretti working her ass off as an accountant and personal assistant, when she could be cruising around town, enjoying daddy’s money?" Thank goodness, he pulled away for a second before pulling me back in, giving me just enough time to not faint. "I, uh..." How could I explain that my parents hated me and my father would rather chew glass than waste his money on me? "Let me guess. You’re trying to prove yourself worthy in daddy’s eyes?" He raised a thick brow at me. I didn’t know whether to acknowledge him for being so smart, or for reminding me just how worthless I was to my father. Humiliation tugged at my chest. "I..." I had nothing to say, but Matteo got his answer. "Isabella. I wouldn’t like to beat around the bush. I know you’re a smart girl, so I’ll get straight to the point," he said, pulling me even closer to him, so we were now crushed together. My nipples tightened under my breasts. Thank goodness for Matteo’s suit; otherwise... "Your father is in a lot of debt..." My initial, wayward thoughts came to a halt. "And I can help him." I had known about the debt. My father had even blamed me for it. But Matteo wanting to help... why? "Let me get this straight. You, Matteo De Santis... you want to help my father?" Alberto had nothing to give in return. I had secretly checked his financial records. Matteo frowned. "What? Does that sound so hard to believe?" For the first time since I started talking to him, my fear subsided enough for a laugh to escape my lips. "I don’t think you would do anything for anyone without expecting something in return." Matteo chuckled, a deep, rich chuckle that I wished wouldn’t stop. "See? I knew you were smart." And then he got serious. But what came out next was not something I would expect. Not in a million years. "You are what I need in return." My ears rang. My heart began to thump rapidly. "I don’t understand. Me? How?" Matteo halted our slow dance. "I’ll pay your father’s debt, bring him out of imminent poverty. And in return, you’ll be my wife."