The Hitman's Secret

Ch. 2: Prey

MATTEO

The incessant click-click of Val's heels quieted as soon as she rounded the corner, betraying her plans for ambush. Matteo expected her to be waiting for him.

He did not, however, expect the knife.

He saw the flash of silver and immediately reacted, sidestepping to avoid her careless swing. With unsurprising ease, he caught Val's wrist in one hand and twisted, rendering the knife useless in her palm. He pushed her back until her shoulders collided with the wall, hard.

A short hiss of breath escaped Val's ruby lips at the impact, and her hazel eyes widened in momentary alarm. Then, her mouth curled into a silent snarl once more, and she struggled against his iron hold, attempting to turn her knife back toward his throat.

Matteo huffed a short, scalding laugh. "What were you planning on doing with this little blade, principessa? Did you want me dead?"

He'd been in a foul mood for the past week, since Valentina decided to sign her life away to the McLeod outsider in a blind, desperate attempt at self-preservation. Matteo hadn't even realized what she did until McLeod's lawyer left the property. And, throughout it all, Val scarcely looked at him once. She'd even tried– and failed– on more than once occasion to have her father replace him as her guard.

Not a chance in hell. Val might've been content to sell her body and soul to the devil, but Matteo would be damned if he let her make the descent to hell alone. A part of him admired her hunger for power. Another part wanted to throttle her for it.

Her hand shook from the effort of trying to regain control of her weapon, but he didn't budge. Instead, his grip tightened, and he forced her hand backwards, until the steel rested inches away from Valentina's own neck.

She ground her teeth and seethed, "Let go of me, cane."

Matteo cocked his head but refused to heed her command. She'd lost the right to order him around the moment she tried to slip away from the engagement party without a fucking guard. Dio, did she learn nothing from the last time she'd snuck away from him?

He narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to cage her in the shadows. The dull blade scraped against her delicate neck, and she swallowed.

"Word of advice," he growled, tightening his hold on Val's fist until she gasped and relinquished control of the hilt. "Don't bring a weapon to a fight unless you actually know how to use it."

Violence flashed in Val's gaze, but she smartly didn't attempt to snatch the knife back. "I know how to use it. Besides, I knew you were the one following me. If I wanted to hurt you, I could have."

Not fucking likely, Matteo nearly snorted. If he wanted the Romano princess dead, her blood would already be staining the McLeods' hardwood floors. If anyone wanted her dead, there was little she could've done to stop it by herself– knife or not.

He released a low breath, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he struggled for control. "What the hell were you thinking? Don't you know how many people at this shitfest want you dead?"

She tilted her chin up at him, stubborn, and held his gaze. She didn't seem surprised, as if she'd grown accustomed to the murderous gazes of her father's capos in the last week. None of the older, more traditional leaders wanted Val to take control of the Romano famiglia, although they'd never dare to voice their opinions out loud. Matteo knew that the conniving old men preferred to perform their dirtiest deeds in secret. Including murdering the troublesome principessa who threatened the Romanos' good name.