Chapter Twenty-Three

A sharp gasp escaped Genevieve the moment the pounding on her door began. Her eyes flicked to the clock on her nightstand—it read 12:30 a.m. In a hurried motion, she set her vibrator down beside her bed and struggled to straighten the tangled tank top that had slipped off her shoulders. Grabbing the baseball bat resting near her bedroom door, she moved cautiously down the dimly lit hallway toward the living room, where the front door was just barely visible.

The knocking came again, louder this time, echoing through the quiet apartment. Who could possibly be visiting at this hour? One of the reasons she had chosen this particular apartment was its cutting-edge security system. She recalled the detailed walkthrough the security guard had given her upon move-in: how the alarm system worked, how no one could enter the building without explicit permission from a tenant, and how the tenant themselves needed to come down to let any guest in. By the end of that explanation, she had felt safer than ever before. Yet now…

The knocking resumed, insistent and demanding. Genevieve tiptoed across the floor, trying to stay as silent as possible. Her heart pounded in her chest as she swallowed hard and rose onto her tiptoes to peer through the peephole. Her eyes narrowed in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. Quickly, she flipped the night latch deadbolt, slid the flip lock, disengaged the slide lock, unlocked the deadbolt, and disarmed the security system. Then she opened the door—and there stood Matteo.

His dark brown hair was tousled, as if he’d just been through a storm. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his breathing uneven. The muscles in his arms tensed as he gripped the doorframe, almost as if holding on for dear life. His eyes locked onto her with an intensity that made her skin prickle; it was as if he knew exactly what she had just been doing—and who she had imagined doing it with. A slow, predatory smile curved his lips, and Genevieve instinctively took a step back.

“Mr. Accardi, what…” she began, her voice trembling.

“Come now, you know my name,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He pushed off the doorframe and began to close the distance between them. Genevieve retreated another step.

“Say it, Genevieve. Say it like you mean it,” he challenged.

Her retreat halted abruptly when she noticed what he was—or rather wasn’t—wearing. Before she could process it fully, he slammed the door shut behind him.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, trying to sound firmer than she felt.

“I had a feeling you might need some help,” Matteo said with a knowing smirk.

Heat rushed to her cheeks. There was no way he could know. Unless… “Did you bug my apartment?!” she blurted out.

His expression shifted, brows furrowing in surprise. “I wouldn’t violate your privacy like that.”

“But you just invited yourself in? How did you get into the building? And where are your clothes?” Her voice rose, disbelief and anger mingling.

Slowly, clarity returned to her mind. She turned sharply and stalked back down the hallway toward her bedroom. Rummaging through the cluttered boxes she hadn’t unpacked yet, she finally pulled out an oversized t-shirt. As she spun back toward the living room, she nearly jumped—there Matteo stood, only a few feet away. Yet his gaze wasn’t on her; it was fixed on her nightstand. Blushing fiercely, she took a big step sideways to block his view of the vibrator.

“Move,” he ordered, his tone low and commanding.

“No. Put some clothes on,” she insisted, holding out the shirt to him.

Without hesitation, he snatched the shirt from her hands, scrutinizing it with a sharp look that made her stomach flutter. “Whose shirt is this?” he asked, voice edged with something fierce.

She shrugged, trying to sound casual. “An ex’s.”

Matteo’s mouth twisted into a snarl. He balled the shirt up and tossed it aside. “I don’t need clothes. Let’s talk about what you really need,” he said, nodding pointedly toward the bed.

“It’s late,” she whispered, her voice barely steady. “You need to leave.”

“No,” he replied simply.

“Matteo, leave,” she said more firmly, pointing toward the door.

He leaned in close, his breath warm against her skin. “Make me.”

Genevieve huffed and turned away, moving briskly down the hall. She could sense him right behind her, matching her every step. By the time she reached the door, she was practically running. Just as she bent down to grab the bat, his hand slammed down hard beside hers. Spinning around, she raised the bat above her head, ready to strike with everything she had. She closed her eyes tightly just before the impact.

Slowly, her eyes opened to find his free hand gripping the bat, halting her swing. Her breath hitched as their gazes locked. A slow smile spread across his lips, and before she could react, he yanked the bat toward himself, pulling her along with it. She gasped as she crashed into his chest. Just as she started to regain her balance, he spun her around and pressed her back against the door. She felt the heat of his bare skin against her back and arms.

“First, you try to hand me a shirt that belongs to another man, then you attack me with his bat?” Matteo teased, clicking his tongue in mock disappointment.

“It’s Leo’s,” she admitted, cheeks burning.

“I know exactly whose it is,” he growled, tossing the bat aside.

“I don’t need a bodyguard, Matteo,” she argued, hoping to distract him enough to loosen his grip.

“I don’t care. You’re going to have one. No one will touch you. No one but me. Understand?” His voice was firm, leaving no room for debate.

“We signed a contract, and—”

“Enough,” he cut her off, voice rough.

He pressed her harder against the door, and she stifled a moan. This roughness was meant to intimidate her, yet instead, it ignited something deep inside. When his lips brushed over her bare shoulder, she couldn’t ignore the memory of the fantasies she’d just been indulging in—imagining his touch as she had pressed the vibrator against herself. His teeth grazed the soft skin there, and a small, involuntary whimper escaped her lips. Her knees weakened, trembling beneath her. A low chuckle rumbled through his body, vibrating against her.

“I need to get some sleep,” she pleaded, voice shaky, knowing that if he continued, all her resistance would dissolve like mist. The wetness pooling in her panties betrayed her desire. She spoke quickly, trying to reason with him as his hand traced a slow path up her front. “I only have one day to get ready before heading into the office.”

Suddenly, his hand covered her mouth, silencing any further protest. “I’ll leave,” he whispered near her ear, his breath sending shivers down her spine. “But not before I give you some inspiration for later.”

Genevieve gasped under his palm as his other hand slid down over her stomach and slipped inside her panties. His middle finger moved slowly through her slick folds, and a low groan escaped him as he pressed his erection against her. His finger found her entrance and slipped inside with ease.

“Feel that?” he murmured, adding a second finger. Genevieve trembled uncontrollably. “You were so close, weren’t you?” Again, she wondered how he could possibly know. His fingers moved rhythmically, and her hips betrayed her, rocking against him. “Your body craves me, Ladruncola. When you’re ready to listen, I’ll be waiting.”

Just as suddenly as he had invaded her, he withdrew his fingers. Removing his hand from her mouth, she spun around to face him just as he brought the fingers that had been inside her to his lips, licking them clean. Her breath caught in her throat. He smirked and reached around her, but instead of pulling her closer, he simply turned the doorknob.

“You can’t go out like that,” Genevieve said, voice rough and barely audible. He raised a brow in question. “You can’t walk home half-naked.”

He leaned in again, and she held her breath. “It’s a short walk.”

With a chuckle, Matteo pulled away and strode out the door. Genevieve remained pressed against it, watching as he crossed the hall to the neighboring apartment. He opened the door, turned back with his hand still on the frame, and flashed her an irresistible smile.

“No,” she whispered, disbelief coloring her tone. “You live on the other side of the city.”

“It was nice meeting you, neighbor,” Matteo said with a playful wave.

“You son of a bitch!” Genevieve shouted as he closed the door.

She slammed her own apartment door shut, a whirlwind of questions swirling in her mind. Stomping back to her bedroom, she resolved to finish what she had started before his unexpected arrival, the lingering memory of his fingers still burning inside her.