Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

The words on Matteo Accardi’s computer screen blurred and shifted, refusing to settle as he stared at the email. He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms, trying to clear the exhaustion that clung to him. With his eyes closed, the image of her appeared vividly in his mind: her dark mahogany hair cascading softly, those piercing blue eyes, and the faint freckle nestled just beneath her ear on the delicate skin. Another sigh escaped him before he forced himself to look back at the glowing screen. Over the past week, he had buried himself in work, desperately attempting to erase her from his thoughts, but it was no use.

She had run away. She had actually fled. That morning replayed relentlessly in his mind. He should have stayed in bed, he thought bitterly. He had assumed she was as drained as he was. After all, he’d managed six solid hours of sleep—a rare luxury he hadn’t enjoyed since he was fifteen and drunk for the first time. She had seemed completely out cold, so he allowed himself to slip away for a quick shower, planning to wake her gently with his mouth when he returned, letting her shower while he prepared breakfast. His mind drifted to the memory of how she had completely unraveled beneath him, his mouth worshipping her until she was trembling in his arms. God, how he longed to feel that again.

Damn it. One more time? He knew exactly why she had run. She understood, deep down, that he had no intention of ever letting her leave the sanctuary of his family’s safe house. She was sharp enough to figure that out. He could see the cunning intelligence in her ice-blue eyes from the moment they locked with his. Even if she never uncovered his true identity or the full weight of his influence in the city, she would have quickly realized that refusing him was not an option. You simply didn’t say no to Matteo Accardi. But somehow, she found a way out. She escaped.

Matteo shifted uncomfortably in his chair, pinching his thigh beneath the desk as the weight of the past five days pressed down on him. It had been five days since he last slept deeply. Five days since he lost her. He tapped his pen rhythmically against the edge of the table, forcing himself to focus on the present. His company demanded his full attention, especially now. The attack on his family had stirred chaos throughout his operations. Seven men were lost across various tracks, his team growing restless, investors demanding explanations. Some had even pulled their funding entirely since his mother’s death.

He needed a plan. No detail could be overlooked. Matteo began typing a response to the track contractor in Austin, who was concerned about a zoning issue. But even as his fingers moved across the keyboard, his thoughts drifted back to Gen: the scent of her hair, the softness of her wrist against his palm, the spark in her eyes as she came alive around him, the sharp bite of her nails digging into his back as they clung to each other. He remembered the sound of her voice, calling his name just before he brought her to another climax. Those memories haunted him through the day and tormented him at night. He was lost.

The sudden ring of his phone snapped him out of his reverie. He answered gruffly, grateful for the interruption.