Chapter 71 After Hours
Valentina
Dinner wrapped with the kind of tight-lipped smiles and thinly veiled jabs that made me think Matteo might not wait long before tossing Luca and Arianna out on their asses.
Honestly? I kind of hoped he’d let me help.
Matteo kept a possessive grip on me the whole walk back to my suite, like he was still riding high from the day’s events. I was too. The buzz of it hadn’t faded—if anything, it had settled deeper, behind my ribs, making me feel sharper. Bigger.
Seen.
When we stopped in front of my door, Matteo shifted his stance, suddenly less flirt and more business.
“Get some rest,” he said, voice low, eyes scanning mine like he needed me to take this seriously. “And don’t wait up.”
I arched a brow. “Why do I feel like you’re about to do something that involves blood, fire, or at least a few threats?”
He smirked. “No fire tonight. Hopefully.”
Then he tipped his head toward the hallway. “Also… don’t fall asleep under the willow tree again.”
That earned him a soft laugh. “I’m not a child, Matteo.”
He didn’t smile back. “I know. That’s why I’m telling you to keep your phone on you. Just in case.”
I sobered a little at that. “What’s going on?”
“Rosco and I have to take care of some personal business.” His tone dropped lower, more guarded. “You’ll learn the ins and outs eventually, but some things—some people—can only be handled at very specific times. Daylight’s no good. Night keeps secrets.”
I stepped closer. “It’s okay. I get it. Don’t worry about me.”
Matteo’s eyes flicked over my face like he didn’t want to leave but had no choice. “I do worry about you.”
“Don’t,” I whispered, touching the front of his shirt. “I’m a big girl. I can handle a few hours without you.”
He let out a breath, half amusement, half tension. “Honestly, I’m less worried about you missing me and more about Luca trying something while I’m gone.”
That made my blood chill just a little.
Matteo leaned down and kissed me—slow, firm, full of unspoken warnings and want. His hands slid around me, palms bold and unrelenting until they found my ass. He squeezed hard, pulling me flush against him.
“I mean it,” he murmured into my mouth. “Stay put. Lock the doors. Keep your phone on.”
I nodded, slightly breathless. “Okay.”
He let go slowly, reluctantly, like he hated tearing himself away.
Then he backed up a step and added, “If I find out Luca even looked at you sideways, I’m breaking his fucking legs.”
I didn’t doubt him for a second.
And oddly? That thought let me sleep a little easier.
Once Matteo disappeared down the hall, I stood in the doorway of my suite for a moment, heart still thudding from that kiss. That man could light a match with just a look—and I was already burning.
But the second the door clicked shut behind me, I exhaled.
He’d be gone for hours. And the house was quiet.
Dinner was long over, the staff had cleared out, and even Luca and Arianna had vanished to whatever gilded corner of hell they were nesting in. I walked barefoot to the window and pulled back the curtain just enough to catch a glimpse of the driveway. Matteo’s taillights were already fading into the dark.
Perfect.
Last time I’d had an hour—midday, nerves on edge, heart in my throat every second. But now? The house was still. The only sounds were the soft ticking of the old wall clock and the faint groan of the wind outside.
Tonight was mine.
I waited thirty more minutes, just to be sure. I brushed my hair. Tidied the suite. Slipped into dark leggings and a soft tank top. Then I pulled my hoodie on and crept toward the hidden panel.
The passageway opened with the faintest click.
Darkness swallowed me whole, but I didn’t falter. I knew this path now. Knew where the stone turned uneven and where to step wide to avoid the creaking floorboard just before Matteo’s office.
The panel on the other side slid open easily, and the office greeted me like an old secret—low lighting, the faint scent of cigars and cedar, and that cabinet.
My pulse spiked as I crossed the room.
The bottom drawer gave way with a familiar groan. I knelt in front of it and flipped open the first folder from the second row.
I’d already gotten a third of these the last time. One hour. That meant two hours should be enough for the rest.
Phone out. Silent shutter on. I worked quickly, methodically, snapping each file in order.
Every so often, I paused and listened.
Nothing but the wind.
Good.
I was faster now. Less shaky. More deliberate. I wasn’t just pretending to be part of this world anymore. I was—at least for now.
But I didn’t absorb a single thing I looked at.
I didn’t read the notes. Didn’t let my eyes linger on the contents. It was too risky. I just snapped photo after photo—every page, every image, every slip of paper tucked into the folders. Name. Code. Snapshot. Close. Next.
No pausing. No thinking.
I was a machine. A girl-shaped scanner.
The second I let myself look too closely, I’d start asking questions. And if I started asking questions… I might never stop.
I got through the last file with five minutes to spare. My hand cramped from gripping the phone, my knees sore from the hardwood floor, but I was done.
I slipped the final folder back into the drawer, eased it shut—
And froze.
A quiet sound behind the office door.
The jingle of keys.
Someone was trying to get in.
My pulse detonated in my chest. I spun, darted across the room, and slid back through the panel so fast I barely remembered to close it behind me.
The hidden latch clicked into place just as the office door opened.
I backed into the shadows of the narrow space, barely breathing.
Then I looked through the two-way mirror.
Luca.