The Don's Forbidden Heir

The Lesson

Morning sun slanted through the floorboards in the east training room, illuminating the place where Matteo found her.

Elara had been cataloguing the house, noting every possible means of escape, when Mrs Caruso appeared and announced that "Mr Moretti" would see her, and it wasn't a request.

The room was large, with a mirrored wall at one end, and rows of weapons were displayed behind glass on the opposite side. Matteo was waiting where the mats met the floor, the sleeves of his black shirt rolled to his elbows, and hands clasped behind his back. He looked as though he hadn't taken a breath since she'd arrived.

"Close the door behind you."

She did as she was told.

"My father thinks you need to know how to protect yourself," he said plainly. "The other houses will be circling the newest blood, and you're not exactly a warrior." He gestured for her to come closer. "First lesson: never let anyone this tall take you by surprise." He stopped several feet away, his gaze flicking over her like a predator measuring prey. "Now, come here."

Elara crossed her arms over her chest. " I've been doing fine on my own."

"You've been doing fine because no one has decided they want you dead yet." Stepping onto the mat, he beckoned her to follow his lead.

She hesitated but obeyed, watching his wiry frame as he circled her, coming to a halt just behind her shoulders. Matteo tilted his head, taking in Elara's stiff posture, her defensive stance.

"First lesson: never let anyone this tall take you by surprise."

He wasted no further preamble, and suddenly Elara was lunging forward, hissing an oath as he caught her wrist in a firm grip. She struggled against him, hissing another curse as he twisted her around, pressing her back to his chest, his hands coming to rest on her elbows, forcing them down at her sides.

"See?" His voice was a silk-covered blade as it slid over her ear. "Your back is against my front." He shifted his hips ever so slightly, and Elara's heart quickened, her skin prickling with awareness of the warm muskiness that clung to his lean frame. "And don't forget whose front that is."

She twisted her waist, trying to get leverage to throw herself free, but his grip was firm and surprisingly gentle, his hands moulding to her arms as he drew her close. Elara became aware of every delicious inch of him. The muscled curve of his backside, the taught ridges of his stomach, the sheer strength of his arms as they bent around her. His breath fanned over her nape, sending little tingles of sensation skittering down her spine.

"Again," he murmured, releasing her so suddenly she stumbled against him.

They circled once more, and this time, Elara managed to keep her stance lower, but Matteo still brought her down in less than three seconds, sweeping her legs out from under her with a practised move, sending her sprawling onto the mat. He sprawled across her, one knee wedging between her thighs, one hand coming to rest beside her head as the other pinned her wrist above her shoulder. The proximity was intoxicating, his body covering hers in a way that made her breath hitch.

Neither moved for a heartbeat too long.

Matteo's dark gaze dropped to her lips, then lower, lingering on the pulse at the base of her throat before he rolled off her side, onto his knees, and offered her a hand. Elara ignored it, pulling herself up using her elbows, swivelling her hips so she was facing him.

"You're thinking about too many things," he muttered, frustration evident in his tone. "Don't overthink it. React."

They went at it again and again, his hands sliding over her skin for far too long, adjusting her stance before he sent her sprawling across the mat. Each time they sparred, his fingertips trailed her forearm as he righted her, his body brushing against her back as he bent to unbraid her hair, sending a shiver of awareness racing down her spine. The last time, he spanned the width of her waist with his hands, catching her off balance so effectively, he ended up on top of her once more, his lips curving into a satisfied smile as he pinned her face-down against the mat.

"Better." His voice was rough against her ear as he ran a thumb over the tender flesh just above her hip. His touch lingered there, his skin abraded against the cotton of her shorts before he abruptly stopped, as if realising what he'd done.

He stepped back, and Elara turned, her cheeks flushed, her heart pounding in her ears. The same ache that had plagued her in that secret chamber the night before was back, only now it was even worse. She hated the way her body responded to him, the way her heart raced at the flex of his muscles, the way her skin grew damp at the feel of his shirt, damp with sweat.

Matteo rolled his neck from side to side, his expression carefully schooled. "Same time tomorrow. Wear something comfortable." He paused, regarding her thoughtfully. "And Elara..." He waited until she met his gaze. "Next time you think about staring at me like that where cameras can see you, I'll make sure my father sees the video feed."

She didn't ask him what he meant by "like that."

She knew exactly what he meant.

He left her alone on the mat, her heart still hammering in her ears, his touch still burning where his hands had been.