The Hitman's Mark

21. Ruin

MATTEO

"I think my boobs are too small for this one," Val complained, her voice drifting over the curtain that separated the fitting room from a lavish sitting area.

"It looks nice, but I still like the red one the most," Allison countered, sounding appropriately contemplative. "Could you stuff the bra?"

Such was the dialogue for the last two hours of Matteo's life.

He leaned against a nearby wall with a view of the fitting rooms, the windows, and the front of the boutique. He monitored their surroundings while Luca sat on an emerald green velvet couch and eagerly offered his opinions whenever the principessa emerged in a new gown. Somehow, the young bodyguard found something to comment on for each dress, whereas Matteo thought Val looked nice in every getup she tried.

No–that was a lie. She looked fucking beautiful. Devastating.

Even when Annika dressed her like a Barbie in a ridiculous color or a gown with feathers on the skirt, Val stole his breath. Disrupted his ability to focus on anything beyond her.

She commanded the attention of everyone in the boutique, and Matteo couldn't deny the strange tightness in his chest when he caught a customer staring at her. She'd peel the curtains of the fitting room back and step into the mirrored sitting-area like the damned Birth of Venus, and every eye in the shop flickered to the young woman.

Once, Matteo even caught a man standing on the sidewalk outside of A&C Couture staring at her through the window. He'd never felt such an urge to carve another human's eyes out of their sockets with a spoon until that moment...

Movement by the fitting room caught Matteo's eye again, and he looked up in time to see Val step through the curtain, her fingers lifting the skirt of a silver sequin gown as she walked.

Two, barely-there straps hung on her slender shoulders, and the dazzling fabric descended into a loose, plunging neckline that nearly dipped to Val's toned navel. The swell of her breasts, modest in size but shaped to abso-fuckin-lute perfection, filled the cleavage.

One wrong movement, and Matteo knew what Val would be exposing to the world. He'd seen it last night, obscured only by the thin fabric of a soaked white sundress. The pert, rosey-brown peaks that tipped those lovely mounds and begged to be touched– pinched and sucked and worshiped...

The image had remained in Matteo's mind long after he left the garden, stood in a cold shower, and took himself into his hand to tame the torturous desire that she'd ignited in him. Now, that familiar heat began to churn to life once more.

"Well?" Val asked, finally letting the skirts fall straight. The fabric hugged the soft curve of her backside, accentuated when she spun to give them a proper view of the dress' angles. "I'm still leaning toward the red dress, but this one goes with the gala's theme a bit more."

Black and White. Regardless of what Val chose, she'd far outshine any other gala attendee. Whether she chose her favored ruby gown from earlier in the afternoon or this silver-sequined number, no one would be able to look away. Matteo wondered if he could somehow convince her to stay home.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and glanced toward Luca, who stared at the princess– Matteo's princess– with wide eyes.

"Fuck, Val," Luca breathed, shaking his head like she'd asked him to choose between saving the life of a puppy or a kitten. "I like both."

Matteo crossed his arms against his chest to conceal his bleached knuckles, wound tight into fists.

Val chuckled. "Well, I can't buy both. Pick one."