The Hitman's Mark

4. Principessa

MATTEO

Matteo's blood roared as Valentina Romano spun to face him.

Her hazel eyes flared wild. Her sweet, wine-laced breath fanned his lips, and, fuck, he inhaled her deep.

"Matteo," she gasped, and his name sounded like heaven from her red-painted lips.

One corner of his lips curled. "Principessa."

Val's nostrils flared, anger written plainly on her soft features, and she shoved against his chest. Matteo released his hold on her hips, even as his entire body protested at the sudden absence of her.

The surprise slowly faded from Val's eyes, and her mouth twisted into a cool smirk. "So," she drawled, twisting one of her chestnut curls around her index finger. Matteo's own fingers itched to run through her brown locks, wrap the tendrils around his fist and pull... "My father sent you to fetch me? Matteo Costa, the torturer and babysitter?"

Matteo huffed a harsh chuckle. "Careful," he warned. "When your father started receiving reports that his daughter was acting like una puttana, he gave me leave to bring you home by any means necessary."

Again, those hazel eyes flashed at the insult. Valentina wore her emotions on her sleeve, a dangerous vice in this world.

Despite himself, Matteo's eyes flickered down the length of her body. She wore a sinfully short dress, and the silk hem lifted with every swaying movement of her round hips. A diamond necklace adorned her chest, falling just inches above generous cleavage. Her mane of brown hair fell in loose waves to the middle of her back, wild and messy and unrestrained.

She didn't look like una puttana — a whore. No. She looked like the prized daughter of a Costa Nostra boss, and that was far more dangerous...

When Matteo first arrived at The Casper, it took him all of five minutes to locate Valentina. She commanded every eye in the room. He followed the gazes of every man, single or not, directly to the dark-haired vixen, twisting her perky little ass at the center of the dancefloor. Inviting trouble.

Matteo reached her before any trouble could. He'd pushed through the drunken, dancing fools to find her. He knew he should've simply grabbed hold of her wrist and dragged her out of the crowd, but she'd been so oblivious to her own stupidity, exposing herself in such a public space, filled with enemies and friends alike...

Matteo wanted to punish her. Wanted to show her how easy it would've been for her to lose control of the situation.

So he touched her. Placed his hands on her hips and tugged her body back until his cock betrayed him by jumping in his jeans. Rocked their bodies back and forth while his hands explored, and that only pissed Matteo off even more.

Because he knew Valentina didn't know him, which meant she would allow any man to touch her in such a way. And some traitorous part of himself, the same part that swore to protect Valentina on her tragic eighteenth birthday, hated it. He hated that she'd be so flippant and careless with something that he vowed to protect.

"Did my father also give you permission to rub your dick against my ass?" she challenged. Fire danced in her eyes, but a soft blush on her cheeks betrayed her.

Matteo huffed, the sound harsher than he'd intended. "A principessa with the mouth of a puttana? You'd do well to learn a bit of respect. Quick. "

Don Leonardo had allowed his daughter too much freedom when he sent her to London. She'd become reckless — oblivious to the dangers that surrounded her in that godforsaken club. If the boss wouldn't reprimand his own child, Matteo held no qualms about putting Valentina Romano in her place. Especially when her full, gorgeous lips parted again and launched another verbal attack.