Chapter 43 The Thing He Didn’t Expect
Matteo
She wasn’t crying.
She wasn’t trembling.
She wasn’t looking at me.
She just… lay there. Eyes fixed on the ceiling. Breasts rising with each slow breath. Skin flushed and slick with sweat.
And I couldn’t stop looking at her.
Not because she was beautiful. That was obvious.
Not because I’d just buried myself so deep inside her I’d forgotten my own name.
No, this wasn’t about the sex.
This was about the silence that followed.
I’d expected a dozen things—tears, accusations, that look she gets when she’s thinking about knives.
What I hadn’t expected was stillness.
I shifted slightly on the mattress, one hand resting over my stomach as I stared at the ceiling. My pulse hadn’t slowed yet. My muscles hadn’t relaxed.
I was used to the aftermath of sex. Even the kind that’s supposed to mean something.
But this?
This was different.
Because I felt different.
I wasn’t supposed to.
This was the plan.
The contract.
The fucking endgame.
But there was a moment—just a second, sharp and fragile—when she kissed me back.
Not because she had to.
Not because I demanded it.
But because she wanted to.
And that did something to me I couldn’t explain.
It clawed down my spine and made a home there.
She kissed me like she forgot who I was. Like I wasn’t the monster who’d caged her with rings and threats.
She kissed me like I was hers.
And that scared me.
I don’t get scared.
I’ve held a gun to my own father’s mouth. Watched a man burn alive for defying my orders. I’ve stared into the eyes of monsters and out-monstered them.
But this woman…
This woman with eyes like fire and a soul like gasoline…
She cracked something in me I didn’t know was still breakable.
And now I’m lying next to her, heart pounding like a boy after his first kiss, wondering if I just made the worst mistake of my life.
Or the best one.
God help me, I don’t know which.
No.
No, no, no—
I need to get my damn head straight.
That wasn’t about her.
It wasn’t softness. Wasn’t affection. Wasn’t some sick emotional shift.
It was three weeks of restraint.
Three weeks of denying myself what was already mine.
Three weeks of knowing she belonged to me and keeping my hands off until the ink dried.
That’s all this is. Pent-up need. Delayed gratification. Nothing more.
She’s mine now.
My wife. My property. My conquest.
And her pussy—fuck—her pussy is mine, too.
Tight little virgin cunt, all slick and trembling around me like it had been made to fit me and me alone.
It’s messing with my head. That’s all it is.
A chemical response.
I gave her grace because she was untouched.
Because it was her first time.
That’s over now.
She’s been broken in.
Ruined, if we’re being honest.
Ruined beautifully.
By me.
And with any luck, she’ll be pregnant before the week’s out.
I don’t want a kid. Never did.
But it’s what Alessio wants.
It’s the last box on the list. The final piece.
The wedding secured my seat.
The heir? That seals the crown. Full control. No more guardianship, no more oversight. No more deals.
This is about power.
It always has been.
So why the hell does my chest feel tight?
I rake a hand through my hair. The sheets are too warm. The air’s too still. She’s too close. I can hear her breathing, light and shallow, curled toward me in sleep like she doesn’t realize she’s curled up next to the man that won ownership in a poker game.
I should get up.
I should leave.
But I don’t.
I stare at the ceiling instead.
Eyes wide open.
Mind screaming.
She should be nothing to me. A move on a board. A means to an end.
But that kiss…
That fucking kiss—
What was I thinking?
I don’t kiss. Not like that. Not there. Not during.
And I sure as hell don’t mean it.
But for a second… when she kissed me back…
I almost forgot.
Forgot the poker game.
Forgot the contract.
I need to get a grip.
I need to.
Because if I don’t…
If I let this thing mutate into something real…
She’ll destroy me.
And the worst part?
I might let her.
I turned my head to look at her. Hair mussed. Chest rising and falling like she couldn’t catch her breath. Skin flushed, neck kissed pink, thighs trembling from the aftershock.
Don’t be stupid, Matteo. You wanted her. You waited. Three fucking weeks. You gave her grace. Space. Time to come to terms with what she owed you. That was generous.
And now?
Now she was just payment rendered.
I claimed her virginity. That sweet, untouched pussy. Mine now. And it should’ve ended there. Should’ve just scratched the itch.
But her virgin pussy was so fucking good it scrambled my thoughts. Tight. Wet. Desperate.
It shouldn’t matter.
She’s a fucking asset.
No different than a shipment or a piece of property. Beautiful, expensive, hard-won property. One that will serve its purpose—give Alessio his damn heir and seal my inheritance once and for all.
That’s what this was always about.
A baby. A legacy. A bloodline secured.
Not feelings. Not softness. Not whatever the fuck just curled in my chest when I saw her bite her lip to keep from moaning my name.
Get it together. She’s just a means to an end.
And tomorrow, you’ll remind her of that.
Again. And again. Until she never forgets it.
She stirred beside me, pulling the sheet higher like she could shield herself from what we’d done.
I almost reached for her. Almost brushed the hair from her face.
But I stopped myself.
No tenderness. No weakness.
Let her think I’m cold.
Let her believe I only want her for what she can give me.
Because if I ever let her in…
She could burn the whole empire down.