Chapter Seven
986 Words
Rossi’s gun clattered to the floor. His men followed suit, hands in the air, faces pale.
Sloane’s knees nearly gave out. She grabbed Mateo’s arm to steady herself.
The FBI swarmed the warehouse, cuffing Rossi and his men. An agent approached Mateo, badge extended. “Mr. Rivas. We had a tip. Someone called in Rossi’s location twenty minutes ago.”
Mateo’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”
“Anonymous. Untraceable.” The agent glanced at Sloane. “You’re lucky. He was planning to kill all three of you.”
Mateo didn’t respond. He walked to Isabella, cut the ropes binding her wrists, and pulled her into a fierce hug. She winced but held on.
“You’re an i***t,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“I told you not to come.”
“I know.”
“I love you.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I love you too.”
Sloane watched, her heart aching. She had never seen Mateo so vulnerable. The mask was gone, replaced by a brother who had almost lost everything.
Isabella looked at Sloane over Mateo’s shoulder. “You came too.”
“Partners,” Sloane said simply.
Isabella’s expression softened. “Maybe you’re not so bad after all.”
---
The drive back to the estate was quiet. Isabella was taken to a private doctor, and Mateo retreated to his study, shutting the door without a word.
Sloane stood in the hallway, uncertain. She had done what he asked. She had stayed behind him, she hadn’t argued, she had run when he told her to. But now she felt like a stranger in this house—a contractor who had fulfilled her duties.
She was about to go to her room when the study door opened.
“Come in,” Mateo said.
She entered. He was standing by the window, his back to her, the city lights reflecting off the glass.
“Rossi will be in federal custody for at least a few days,” he said. “His lawyer will get him out. They always do.”
“Then what?”
He turned. “Then we finish this. But not tonight.”
He walked toward her, stopping inches away. She could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the shadows underneath.
“You could have died tonight,” he said. “You could have stayed in the car. You didn’t.”
“You asked me to trust you. I did.”
“I know.” He reached out and touched her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. “I didn’t expect that.”
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. Fear. Hesitation. Regret.” He dropped his hand. “Not… this.”
“This?”
“You standing here. Looking at me like I’m not a monster.”
Sloane’s heart pounded. “Are you?”
He was silent for a long moment. “I’ve done things. Terrible things. To protect my family, my empire. I’ve hurt people. Ordered things that would make you sick.”
“And yet you saved your sister.”
“That’s not redemption.”
“No,” she agreed. “But it’s a start.”
He stared at her, and something shifted in his expression—a c***k in the wall he had built around himself.
“The contract,” he said slowly. “I want to change it.”
“Change it how?”
“No more secrets. No more manipulation. If we’re doing this—this partnership—I need you to know everything. The good, the bad, the ugly. And I need you to choose, every day, to stay.”
“What about the money?”
“The money is yours regardless. I paid off your father’s debt. The rest is in an account with your name on it. You can walk away right now, and you’ll never have to see me again.”
Sloane’s breath caught. “You’re giving me an out.”
“I’m giving you a choice. The one I should have given you from the beginning.”
She thought about her father, safe in his rehab facility. She thought about her mother, still out there somewhere, still hiding. She thought about the contract she had signed—the lies, the manipulation, the fear.
And she thought about Mateo. The man who had kissed her like she was the only thing keeping him alive. The man who had put himself between her and a gun. The man who was looking at her now like she was the answer to a question he hadn’t known he was asking.
“I’m not walking away,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because I want to find my mother. Because I want to see Rossi pay for what he’s done. Because…” She hesitated. “Because when you kissed me, I didn’t feel like a contractor. I felt like a woman.”
He exhaled, a shaky breath. “Sloane.”
“Don’t.” She stepped closer. “Don’t tell me this is a mistake. I’ve made plenty of mistakes. This doesn’t feel like one.”
He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs tracing her cheekbones. “If we do this—really do this—there’s no going back. My enemies become your enemies. My fights become your fights.”
“I know.”
“You could die.”
“We could all die. That’s not a reason to hide.”
He kissed her then—slow, deep, nothing like the desperate kiss at the warehouse. This one was a promise.
When they broke apart, his forehead rested against hers.
“No more contract,” he said.
“No more contract.”
His phone rang. He glanced at the screen, and his face went pale. “It’s Diana. She says she
He knows where your mother is. But we have to come alone. Tonight.
- Writer
