Chapter One Hundred and Three
After Guerra had finally left, Matteo reached over Gen and snatched the remnants of her drink. Without hesitation, he downed it in one swift gulp before slamming the glass back onto the bar with a sharp, definitive crack. He had convinced himself he could handle it—watching her brush off the advances of other men without losing composure. But the moment Sergei stepped toward her, his vision blurred with a furious red haze, and he immediately sent Frankie to deal with him. When Guerra made his move and Frankie was nowhere to be seen, Matteo knew he had no choice but to intervene personally. He could sense the cold fury radiating off Gen in waves—she was far from pleased. He couldn’t entirely blame her. She sat stiffly in her chair, her posture rigid and unyielding. The only gesture she made was a subtle wave to the bartender, pointing at her now-empty glass.
“Weakness…” Matteo muttered under his breath.
“Save it,” Gen snapped, her voice sharp and cutting.
“I always knew you’d never just wander off with some other guy. That’s the only reason I didn’t tell you earlier…” he trailed off.
“That I was for sale?” Gen exploded, her voice rising as she leaned forward, drawing the attention of everyone nearby.
“You were never for sale,” Matteo replied quietly, his tone low and soothing despite the tension.
“Oh really? Then what about Maisy and… whoever the hell you are? What do you think Mr. Accardi here could get for someone like me?” Gen challenged, raising an eyebrow.
Maisy O’Brien, wise enough to avoid trouble, wisely kept quiet. But the man attempting to charm her glanced over Gen’s figure with interest and smirked, “I’d put you at 35 million, Sweetcheeks.”
Gen turned to Matteo with a raised brow. “Did you hear that, Accardi? Got a counteroffer?”
Matteo said nothing. Instead, his gaze burned with such venom that it felt like it could sear the poor man’s very soul. The man squirmed uncomfortably under the intensity of that look until he finally fled, casting a brief wave to Maisy as he disappeared.
“Damn it, Accardi,” Maisy sighed heavily. “I actually kind of liked that one.”
“This is unbelievable,” Gen growled, scoffing. She rose from her seat and gave Matteo a disgusted once-over, a look that twisted deep inside his heart like a knife before she turned and walked away, shaking her head.
“You should’ve told her, Accardi,” Maisy said, taking a slow sip of her cosmopolitan.
Matteo rolled his eyes. “Thanks for your input.”
He quickly followed Gen. Despite her evident anger, he caught up to her in just a few strides. Grabbing her upper arm firmly, he began pulling her toward the dance floor. She struggled, trying to break free, but his grip only tightened. Once they reached the polished wooden floor, Matteo spun her around and drew her close, pressing her tightly against his chest.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice low and earnest.
“Yeah, right. You’re a fucking sorry piece of…” Gen started to snap back.
Before she could finish, Matteo cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. She pushed against his chest, but when he slid his tongue over her lips, her resistance faltered. Her palms flattened against his tuxedo jacket, gripping tightly. Finally, he released her, and she swayed slightly. Though her eyes remained narrowed and her mouth set in a deep frown, she stopped fighting him.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he warned, taking her hand and wrapping his other arm around her waist. She scoffed but allowed him to lead her across the room. “You were never going to be auctioned off, Weakness,” he murmured into her ear, his voice sending a familiar shiver down her spine.
***
“Yeah, right. I’m sure you had plans to…” she began, skepticism dripping from her words.
Matteo tightened his hold until she let out a small squeak from the pressure. “Stop talking, Genevieve, or you’ll regret it.”
“By doing what? Stripping me down so you can get a higher bid than 35 million?” she challenged, her eyes flashing a dangerous silver-blue that could cut through steel.
“No one in this room could afford you, Genevieve. You’re priceless. Worth more than every woman who’s ever stepped foot on this floor combined.”
“You’re damn right,” she growled back.
Matteo chuckled softly. “Men think they’re powerful when a woman’s at their mercy—or at least when they believe she is. I just wanted to see how you’d handle them.”
“Well, if you hadn’t sent Frankie or come charging over yourself, you would’ve seen me kick two men in the balls,” she retorted.
“I couldn’t take it,” he admitted quietly. “The thought of another man even talking to you sent me into a blind rage.”
“You should’ve known better.”
“I should’ve.”
“I mean, you cut off Brian’s hand and killed Paul.”
“Mmm, when you put it like that, maybe I just needed an excuse to kill someone.”
“I have a pretty good one,” she said, shooting him a pointed look.
Matteo dropped his arm from around her waist and pulled out his handgun. He pressed it into her hand and then against his own chest. “Go ahead, Weakness. Make me pay.”
Gen flicked off the safety, and his eyes widened in surprise. She smirked at his expression before pulling the gun away and tucking it back into his waistband.
“Here I was thinking you were joking about the loaded gun between your thighs.”
“I never joke about lethal weapons… or my firearms.”
A faint smile threatened to tug at her lips, but she shook her head, and it disappeared. “You said you weren’t involved in sex trafficking, Matteo,” she said, giving him a look that demanded explanation.
“I’m not.”
“I can tolerate a lot, but I can’t be with someone selling women. You better explain yourself—fast—or I’ll…”
Matteo stopped moving, gripping her so tightly her back cracked. “You’ll what, Genevieve?”
Her eyes narrowed sharply. “I’ll leave you,” she threatened, her voice thick with emotion and resolve. His heart twisted painfully, making him feel almost sick.
Matteo clenched his jaw so hard his teeth ground together. He lifted his gaze and scanned the room, not really looking for anything specific but needing a moment to collect his thoughts and remind himself to be cautious. He inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly, trying to release the urge to sweep her up and prove she wasn’t going anywhere without him. He shifted his feet to continue their dance, and she fell into step beside him.
“This event isn’t what you think. I don’t know what Maisy told you…” he began.
“She said…” Gen started.
“I don’t give a flying fuck what that woman said, Gen,” Matteo cut in sharply. “One thing my great-grandfather wanted when he moved to this country was to build a different life than the one he’d been born into. Back then—and even now—men and women in this world are bought and sold like commodities, often against their will. Deals are made in private, wars are fought in dark alleys, and people die because of misunderstandings or broken promises.”
“After my great-grandfather established a stronghold here, he started this event. Men from all over the country come to make deals, strengthen family ties, and form important alliances. These deals happen openly, with hundreds of witnesses to hold everyone accountable. The bidding is just a way for families to test the waters and see who’s serious about forming an alliance. Negotiations come afterward. Both parties must agree to terms and sign contracts in front of a dozen witnesses—and my signature.”
“And what about that seventeen-year-old girl who was promised as a child?” Gen asked, her voice like a punch to the gut.
Matteo sighed heavily. “I made changes when I took over, but I was only sixteen at the time. To avoid chaos and keep people from abandoning the event and making deals in the shadows, my mother advised me to give advanced notice about the changes—five years. After that, it became a rule that women must willingly agree to any marriage or business arrangement themselves. As expected, many still made deals for the future, including the one Ivan Rubanov made for his daughter. I’m currently dealing with several cases like hers.” He locked eyes with her, his feet pausing on the dance floor. “Every woman leaves this event of her own free will.”
“That’s not a perfect system, Matteo. How can you be sure these women aren’t groomed or coerced? How can you expect a woman to look at you without fearing that saying no will bring punishment?”
“They don’t speak to me directly. They talk to a female counselor.”
“Like the one who pats us down when we walk in?”
Matteo sighed. “No, she’s a professional counselor, Gen.”
“It’s not a perfect system, Matteo.”
“No, it’s not,” he agreed. “If I had a strong-willed Donna by my side, she could help me make it better.”
Gen yanked her hands from his and crossed her arms tightly. “I’m so angry with you. Not just because of this event, but because you kept me in the dark. What kind of sick punishment is it to make me think you care so little that you’d actually auction me off?!”
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but Matteo refused to let himself be swayed. He stepped closer, invading her space, towering over her. She recoiled slightly but didn’t back down. Her gaze remained steady, demanding answers—and he was ready to give them.