Genevieve froze in Matteo’s arms the moment they stepped into the hushed, cool sanctuary of his office. Without a word, he guided her toward the large window and gently lifted her onto the smooth surface of his desk. Instantly, he turned his back to her, deliberately shielding his face from her view. Yet, there was no mistaking the tension in his movements as he ripped off his suit jacket and tossed it carelessly onto a nearby leather couch. He then rolled up the sleeves of his crisp dress shirt, exposing his forearms, and began rotating his shoulders with a tight, restless energy.

“She needed to be put in her place,” Gen said bluntly, her gaze sweeping across the dimly lit room, taking in the dark blue walls and the deep brown leather furniture that contrasted starkly with the glowing quartzite desk beneath her. The atmosphere was heavy, almost suffocating, yet elegant in its austerity.

Matteo didn’t answer. Instead, he busied himself with opening and closing the cabinets on the far side of the room, where a few bookshelves stood. His office was a far cry from the bright, modern space at Accardi Industries or the sleek decor of his apartment. Here, everything was muted and shadowed, save for the desk that seemed to emit a golden light from within, casting a soft glow on Gen’s legs.

Despite his back being turned, his movements were stiff, hesitant.

“She came after Leo,” Gen pressed on, feeling an odd need to justify herself to the man who had caused far worse pain. “I don’t understand why you’re so angry.”

Matteo pivoted sharply, his arms laden with first-aid supplies. “Angry? You think this is anger?” His voice was low, almost disbelieving, as he strode purposefully toward her.

“Well, what else would you call it?” she asked, turning to face him as he circled the desk.

He scoffed, pushing his chair away with a sharp kick of his foot. His dark eyes locked onto hers, sending a shiver down her spine. Setting the bandages beside her, he placed both hands firmly on the cool quartz surface, framing her thighs with a possessive intensity.

“Frustrated,” he said curtly.

Gen rolled her eyes. “That’s just a fancy way of saying—”

Her words caught in her throat when he hooked his fingers around her thighs and tugged her closer to the edge of the desk. Her eyes widened as she felt the undeniable hardness pressing against her, the contrast between steel and warmth electrifying. She blinked, her breath hitching as he leaned in, his mouth brushing close to her ear.

“Frustrated,” he repeated, his voice low and rough. “Aroused. Horny. Lustful. Hot.” He closed the distance further, coaxing her down slowly onto the desk, his nose trailing from the delicate curve of her neck to the swell of her chest. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to see this side of you, Weakness?” His groan vibrated against her skin as he pressed in harder, eliciting a soft moan from her lips. “And you choose to unleash it when I’m shackled by your outdated rules about first dates?”

His hands glided up from her waist, caressing the silky fabric of her dress, leaving trails of heat in their wake. For a brief moment, his palms cupped her breasts before retreating to squeeze her waist firmly. “All that stands between me and fulfilling one of my most replayed fantasies with you is a zipper, a pair of panties… and your rules.”

Suddenly, Matteo stepped back, and Gen gasped at the sudden loss of his warmth. She opened her eyes to see him rolling his chair back into place in front of her. He adjusted his pants, his legs spread wide as he settled in. She propped herself up on her elbows, her gaze drifting downward to the taut fabric stretched across his hips, biting her lip at the sight.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he warned, eyes flickering up to meet hers. She caught him carefully unraveling the bandages. “Don’t touch me more than necessary,” he added, voice firm.

“Or?” she challenged, unable to resist.

Matteo sighed, closing his eyes briefly. “Or I’ll have to barricade the door, and we’ll end up stuck in here all night,” he said, setting the supplies aside. “Come here.”

Gen pulled herself upright. He extended a hand, and she placed hers in his. He examined her knuckles, raw and bloody, and clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

“How does it feel to be on the other side of it for once?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m supposed to have calloused knuckles. You’re not. Take your ring off before your finger swells,” he warned.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Gen muttered, struggling to remove the ring from her swollen finger, a finger that had been injured twice before in similar fights.

He dabbed alcohol on her fresh wounds. She flinched and pulled her hand away, but when he looked at her with a mixture of frustration and concern, she relented. “We both know this isn’t your first time. Give it here.”

Gen narrowed her eyes but obeyed. This time, when the sting of the alcohol hit, she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

“How do you know this isn’t my first time? I’m just an innocent accountant,” she teased lightly.

Matteo snorted but kept his focus on cleaning her wounds. “Three separate aggravated assault charges. One for assaulting an officer, plus numerous disorderly conduct incidents.”

Gen stared at him, mouth agape. “How did you… those files are sealed.”

He paused, looking up at her with a mixture of amusement and pity. He shook his head and chuckled quietly before returning to her hand. “You’re cute.”

“When did you hack my police record, Matteo?”

“Marco did it before Louis and Jada got married. It’s protocol.”

“Protocol?” she echoed, skeptical.

Matteo hummed as he tightened the bandage on her left hand. Then he lifted her right hand—the worse of the two—and sighed at the damage.

“It was school,” Gen admitted, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Before we moved to New York… well, most of it. Kids can be cruel. After my mom died…” Her throat tightened as the painful memories surfaced—the cruel words they’d hurled at her, at her parents, at her. Matteo paused, looking up from the cotton ball soaked in alcohol.

“Kids can be cruel,” she repeated softly.

“What reason would they have to be cruel, Genevieve? Your mother died in a car accident,” he whispered, voice gentle.

“She was drunk. She was a good woman, a good mother, but she struggled with alcohol and some drugs. My dad worked so hard to keep it out of the reports and away from the papers, but everyone in town already knew.”

Matteo nodded solemnly and bent his head to blow gently on her knuckles. The cold air soothed the rawness of the cuts, and she sighed softly.

He applied a healing cream and began wrapping her fingers carefully. When he finished, he stood and cupped her chin with both hands. His dark eyes softened, their usual intensity shifting to a warm greenish-gold as he searched her face, trying to read the storm of thoughts swirling behind her gaze.

“What you went through made you stronger, Genevieve. It shaped the woman who captivated me the moment you walked into that bar next door. Never apologize again for standing up for yourself or for your people. You belong to me, and no matter what life throws at you, I will stand by your side and protect you.” He lowered his head until their eyes met evenly. “Even against kids who can be cruel.”

Genevieve nodded, watching the subtle movement of his jaw as his eyes drifted to her lips. He licked his own mouth and let out a low groan.

“Just do me one favor?” he asked softly.

“Hm?” she replied, curious.

A teasing smile tugged at his lips. “Next time you feel like beating the hell out of someone, let me know first. I have a feeling we’d make a killing if you stepped into the ring.”

His attempt to lighten the mood worked. She laughed, the sound sharp and genuine, before he released her chin and began gathering the scattered trash from the desk.

“I’m sorry I interrupted your meeting,” Gen said as he moved toward the trash bin.

“You didn’t interrupt anything, Gen. It’s fine,” he reassured her.

“So, what exactly did that man want to talk to you about?” she asked cautiously.

She wasn’t sure how much he would share. Though she had chosen to enter his world by sharing his bed, she wasn’t certain what else that entailed. Would he shut her out of conversations like this? Would he tell her again that he didn’t want her involved in this part of his life? Was she only here to help him unwind, oblivious to the real battles he faced?

Gen watched him dispose of each item with deliberate care, as if he too was weighing how much of himself to reveal. The silence stretched between them until she could no longer bear it.

“Matteo?” she finally whispered.