Chapter 4 Romano Estate

CHAPTER 4

Matteo Romano leaned back in his leather armchair, the soft hum of his car's engine barely audible as they sped through the city. His knuckles still tingled from earlier-ghost sensations of Valentine's curves under his hands, her lips hot and desperate against his.

He cursed under his breath, running a hand through his thick, dark hair. It had been reckless, stupid even, to let his guard down around her. But damn if he didn't still feel the heat of her body pressed against his, the taste of her mouth lingering on his tongue.

"Boss," his driver, Enzo, spoke up. "Warehouse is gone. Complete loss. We're headed back to the estate."

Matteo just gave a sharp nod, his jaw tightening. The Romano warehouse blown to bits, and then a De Luca dock following right after. It didn't take a genius to know someone wanted them at each other's throats. Problem was, the families had hated each other for generations. They didn't need much of a push to go to war.

He pulled out his phone, scrolling through the reports coming in from his men. As expected, his father was already up in arms, barking orders and rallying the men. Matteo knew what was coming-a meeting between both families. Neutral ground, maybe one of the luxury hotels downtown. It wouldn't be the first time they called for a truce meeting only to end up pointing guns at each other.

He couldn't help the slow smirk that pulled at his lips as he thought of Valentine. God, she was something else. That fierce fire in her emerald eyes when she pointed a gun at his head. The way her long, dark brunette hair fell over her shoulders, wild and untamed, contrasting the sleek danger that radiated off her.

She was lethal-slim, with a waist that his hands fit around perfectly, and curves that were impossible to ignore. He hated the way his mind kept replaying the way she arched under him, that sharp mouth of hers finally giving in. The woman drove him insane-beautiful, deadly, and completely off-limits.

He'd grown up hearing stories of the De Luca princess-the one who didn't back down from a fight, who could take a man out with a blade just as easily as she could with a single glance. He never thought he'd be stupid enough to want her. Yet here he was, thinking about her while his empire was on the brink of war.

Enzo gave him a sideways glance, sensing the tension in his boss. "You good, Matteo?"

"Just thinking about how I'm gonna tear apart whoever set us up," Matteo replied, voice low and dangerous.

His mind flickered back to that moment at the club when they both pulled guns, ready to shoot each other down, before chaos erupted around them. He'd seen the way Valentine moved-graceful, agile, like she belonged in the middle of the storm.

And then, after the adrenaline, after the explosions and gunfire, he'd found himself pressed against her under the club, in that dark, hidden space where anger and lust collided. It wasn't just about hate-it was need. A raw, primal urge that neither of them could control.

He forced his mind back to business, pushing away the memory of her breathless whispers and clawing nails. His father wouldn't care about his distraction-he'd care about results. They needed to figure out who was pulling the strings before the De Lucas blamed them for the dock explosion.

His phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen. A message from one of his men-confirmation that the meeting was set for tomorrow night at a neutral location. Perfect. Time to strategize.

As they pulled into the Romano estate, Matteo adjusted his jacket and stepped out, his mind already running through possible leads. The mansion loomed ahead, an imposing fortress of stone and steel, just like his family's reputation.

But even as he strode inside, he couldn't help but wonder how the hell he'd get Valentine De Luca out of his head.

As Matteo stepped inside the grand foyer of the Romano estate, the familiar scent of aged wood and rich leather greeted him. The walls were adorned with family portraits-generations of Romanos staring down at him with cold, unwavering eyes. It was a reminder of the legacy he carried, and the burden that came with it.

His father, Antonio Romano, stood at the head of the long dining table, his presence commanding even in silence. Around him, uncles and cousins filled the room, voices low and tense, discussing the attack. The Romanos stuck together-always had, always would. Blood was thicker than anything, and loyalty was everything.

The room quieted as Matteo entered, all eyes on him. His uncle Marco gave him a stiff nod, his salt-and-pepper beard barely hiding the grim set of his mouth. Cousin Luca leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, his dark eyes narrowing as if assessing Matteo's every move. Even young Niko, barely twenty and fresh off his first kill, straightened up, trying to match the older men's intensity.

Antonio's gaze fixed on his son, piercing and unyielding. "You were at the club when it happened," he said, more a statement than a question.

"Yes," Matteo replied evenly, stepping further into the room. "The De Luca princess was there too."

A few of the older men exchanged glances, and one of his cousins, Rocco, snorted. "That bitch? You should've put a bullet in her skull."

Matteo's jaw tightened. "She wasn't the one who shot first. Someone else opened fire. It was deliberate-meant to spark a war."

His father's eyes narrowed. "And the warehouse?"

"Gone. Completely leveled. Then their dock went up right after." He looked directly at his father. "Someone's playing us, trying to get us to kill each other. My guess is a third party looking to take advantage of the chaos."

Uncle Marco grunted, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "We've had issues with the Bratva moving in on the east side. Could be their doing-set the Italians against each other, then pick up the pieces."

Lorenzo sneered. "Or it's the De Lucas themselves, trying to bait us into hitting back so they can play the victims."

Matteo shook his head. "Valentine seemed genuinely caught off guard. Her people were just as panicked as ours." He didn't mention the way her hands shook right before they found their way around his neck. That was for him to keep-another reckless secret buried beneath duty and loyalty.

His father slammed his palm against the table, making glasses clink. "It doesn't matter if she was caught off guard. She's still a De Luca. If they want war, they'll get it. We can't look weak."

Matteo kept his tone even. "We're meeting tomorrow night. Neutral ground. We'll see if they're bluffing."

Antonio nodded slowly, still eyeing his son with that scrutinizing stare. "You're leading the negotiations. Make sure you get the truth out of them-and if they're lying, make them regret it."

Matteo gave a tight nod, ignoring the flicker of unease in his gut. His father's approval was something he'd been chasing for years, and it wasn't the time to question his instincts.

Marco raised his glass, his gravelly voice cutting through the tension. "To blood and loyalty. Whatever it takes."

The room echoed the sentiment, glasses raised and clinking together. Matteo forced a smirk, but his thoughts were elsewhere-stuck on emerald eyes and a slim waist that fit perfectly against him.

Whatever it took. Even if it meant burying the desire that still burned like gasoline on his skin