Tempted and Taken, page 4
Liza.
The second her name crossed his mind, he felt that same ache in his gut that only went away when he managed to forget about her.
Which was next to never.
Though he had managed to put her out of his mind for two whole hours today as he played basketball. Maybe he’d go back for another game, once his glutes stopped screaming at him.
“Well…” Matt rose from the couch, glancing at his watch. “It’s getting late. I think I’ll head home.”
Conor stood as well. “What’s your rush? It’s New Year’s Eve and we’re only an hour away from midnight. I was hoping you’d join me for a drink in the VIP area.”
Matt shook his head, ready to give his regrets, but Conor cut him off.
“I need help increasing the Russo headcount because Gage has dragged too many Morettis along with him tonight.”
Matt wondered if Liza was included in that crowd. The self-destructive part of himself hoped she was. Then his brain engaged, and he prayed to God she wasn’t.
He’d had two weeks to get his head screwed on straight over Liza Moretti, and he’d made zero headway. If he was smart, he’d get the hell out of there until he felt ready to do what needed to be done.
For most of his adult life, Matt restricted himself to dating women he stood no danger of falling in love with. It was his only requirement when asking a woman out. It was why Patricia had fit the bill as a plus-one. Until the night of the Snowflake Gala, she’d been tolerable, and while they didn’t set the sheets on fire, she was a decent lover. Matt didn’t take women to bed for any reason other than to sate his physical needs.
Liza, however, fell into a completely different category. She was intelligent, compassionate, and beautiful, and sex with her had been a goddamn religious experience. He’d never considered what his “type” was because he wasn’t looking for it. Now, he could see that Liza was it, which made her dangerous.
So he should go home now…instead of saying, “I can stay for one drink.”
Shit.
“Great!” Once again, Conor looked a little too surprised, but there was no denying his kid brother was pleased, and that thought warmed Matt. He made a mental note to try to spend more time with his brothers outside of work. He’d liked the way they were with each other on Christmas Eve, and while he didn’t hold out hope that the three of them could return to the same close relationship they’d had as kids, he wouldn’t mind having conversations with them that didn’t revolve around business deals.
Conor slapped Matt on the shoulder as they left the office, walking downstairs to the roped-off section reserved for special guests.
“Only Gage could convince me to host a bunch of Morettis in my VIP section,” Conor murmured as they walked over to the bar and ordered drinks. “I’d hoped to celebrate with a lot less fanfare and people. Original invitation was meant to include just you, me, Gage, and Penny. So much for that,” he grumbled.
While Gage was an open book, Conor was the quiet loner, always in his room with his books when they were kids, or now—as an adult—choosing to work in his office here rather than keeping one in the Russo Enterprises building.
Matt thanked the bartender for the Scotch then drifted over to the balcony. The second-floor VIP section overlooked a large part of the club, including the dance floor.
Matt let his gaze travel over the mass of bodies bumping and grinding. He pretended he was watching the dancers, even though he knew he was looking for her.
And then, he found her.
She was in the middle of a circle of her friends, laughing and dancing. Matt studied the group, spotting Penny and Gage, Toby and Rich—two of Russo Enterprises’ IT guys. Liza’s cousins, Luca and Joey, were also there, as well as another man he didn’t recognize.
When the current song ended, another fast-paced one taking its place, most of the group peeled off, leaving the floor. The only ones who remained were Joey, who’d found a woman to dance with, and Liza, who’d partnered up with the stranger.
The attractive man wrapped his arms around Liza’s waist, pulling her closer, and while Matt could admit the dance was more friendly than sexy, he still found himself clenching his teeth, his jaw locked tight.
Voices behind him forced him to look away as Gage approached.
“Hey, Matt. Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”
Penny followed Gage, giving Matt an unexpected hug. While he was very fond of his brother’s wife, their relationship as in-laws was still in that “getting to know each other better” phase.
She wrapped a supportive arm around Gage’s waist when he stumbled a bit. “Next drink is water, Gage, or you’re gonna have the mother of hangovers tomorrow.”
Gage bopped Penny’s nose playfully. “I think the hangover is a foregone conclusion.”
“Yeah. Probably. But better try to save yourself. I’ll go get some water. You want anything from the bar?” Penny asked Matt.
Matt shook his head, holding up his still-full glass of Scotch. Gage pointed to Matt’s drink, silently asking for the same, but Penny shook her head. “Water.”
She walked away as Gage stepped next to him at the railing.
“I’m glad you’re here.” Gage bumped shoulders with him. It was a friendly, casual gesture, and it made Matt smile.
“You’re clearly wasted,” Matt teased.
Gage laughed. “I’m sober as a stone…ish. Penny and I are celebrating.”
“Celebrating what?”
Gage paused for a second, then said, “The new year, of course.”
Matt wasn’t a fan of the holiday season, so it hardly felt like a reason for celebration. Then he glanced back down at the dance floor. “Who is that man dancing with Liza Moretti?”
Gage followed the direction of Matt’s finger. “Oh. That’s Miles Williams. Joey’s cohost on ManPower.”
Joey Moretti had landed his own TV show and had been traveling the country for the past two years filming episodes.
“I met him last year at Keeley, Rafe, and Gio’s Christmas party. Great guy. Lot of fun,” Gage went on to explain, unaware of how much Matt hated his description of Miles. Especially when he looked back toward the floor, watching as the man’s hands drifted lower, not quite on Liza’s ass but not quite on her back either.
Matt saw red and, for a split second, he imagined himself marching down to the floor and dragging Liza out of the other man’s arms.
Fortunately, the song ended, Liza and Miles stepping apart and leaving the floor. Matt relaxed, only until he realized the two of them were climbing the stairs, headed for the VIP section. Liza made a beeline for the bar, she and Penny laughing as they talked to the bartender.
She hadn’t noticed him yet, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d be as carefree when she realized he was there.
They hadn’t seen each other since the night of the gala.
Liza thanked the bartender for her drink, then turned around. Her gaze met his in an instant, and he watched a myriad of expressions cross her face—surprise, desire, wariness, sadness, and then—the one she stuck with—anger.
That one surprised him because he couldn’t think of anything he’d done that night that would make her angry with him. She was the one who’d walked out, not the other way around.
Their gazes remained locked across the room, and he wished he could tell what she was thinking.
Given the fact none of her male relatives had done much more than give him a cursory glance when they walked into the VIP section, he assumed she hadn’t told anyone about their night together. Because he was certain Luca and Joey wouldn’t be happy to discover he’d taken their cousin to bed.
Then, he felt his own temper kick up when Miles joined her at the bar, stealing her attention away from him. Her annoyance over seeing Matt vanished when she talked to Miles. Toward him, she was all smiles and flirty looks.
Matt fought to unlock his jaw.
“Hey, Mr. Russo.”
Matt recognized the voice and forced his gaze away from her, turning to acknowledge Toby and Rich.
“Matt,” he corrected. Matt had told both men to call him by his first name countless times over the past year. Because, while they were still employees, they’d also become two of Gage’s closest friends, so the three of them were running into each other more frequently at social occasions, like tonight.
“Matt,” Rich said, grinning as he did so. Matt didn’t hold his breath that the name change would stick. Next time they ran into each other, either at work or socially, he would be Mr. Russo again.
“Happy New Year!” Toby’s volume was a shade too loud. Clearly, he was as sober-ish as Gage. Both men attempted to make small talk about Enigma, about their excitement at being in the VIP section. Gage joined the conversation, the three men determined to draw Matt into a discussion about the new Dr. Who. Matt listened with half an ear, nodding when appropriate even though he didn’t give a damn about Dr. Who, Dr. What, Dr. When, or Dr. Fucking Why.
Eventually, the three men finally excused themselves, seeking out Penny to settle some debate about their last Dungeons and Dragons game night. Now, as always—when it came to Gage’s friends—Matt felt as if he’d just engaged in a conversation where he didn’t have a clue what any of the words meant, even though they’d been spoken in English.
Glancing back toward the bar, he was surprised to discover Liza wasn’t there. Surveying the area, he could see she’d left the VIP section. Foolishly, he was relieved when he spotted Miles, sitting at a round table with Joey and Luca. Turning back to the floor, he wondered if she’d gone back down to dance, but she wasn’t there either.
He waited a few minutes more, then gave himself a mental kick in the ass for hanging around in hopes that she would return. He had no business talking to Liza. Time to cut his losses and get the hell out.
Matt crossed the room to say goodbye to his brother, who had claimed a quiet table in the corner, opting to sit alone versus socializing.
“You’re going to miss the ball dropping,” Conor said.
Matt snorted. “That’s not something I’ll miss. Happy New Year.”
“Happy New Year, Matt,” Conor said.
Matt walked downstairs, fighting his way through the crowd to the front door. Handing his ticket to the valet, he stepped away from the entrance, tugging his jacket closed at the front. The temperature had dropped significantly since he’d arrived at the club, and flurries were starting to fall.
Shoving his hands in his pocket, he was surprised when he noticed Liza, leaning against a light pole about halfway down the block. She appeared to be lost to the world, deep in thought.
Before he could think better of it, he walked toward her. “You picked a cold night to hang around outside.”
She glanced up at him, her surprise over his presence proving just how lost in thought she’d been. “Hi, Matt,” she said somewhat coldly before looking behind him as if expecting to see someone else. “Where’s Patricia?”
Ah. And now he understood the anger. Henri, his personal assistant, had sent him the link to that ridiculous article about him and Patricia getting married. He’d been annoyed when he’d seen it because—when he replayed the dinner date—it became obvious that Patricia had instigated not only the photographs but the article as well.
She’d made certain they were seated by that front window, the perfect location for some member of the paparazzi to snap countless pics. The photos that accompanied the article were clearly staged, as he recalled the odd way Patricia had handed him the cuff links. He could see now it had been premeditated, her actions making it look as if he’d placed that ring-shaped box in her hand, not the other way around.
He’d been half tempted to call Patricia to force her to confess, but in the end, he decided it didn’t matter. He had no intention of seeing her again, so no harm, no foul.
Now that he suspected Liza had seen the same article, he could use it to his benefit as there was no love lost between the women. Allowing Liza to think he and Patricia were back together might be enough to break this pull he felt toward her. Because regardless of his wayward, unwanted feelings, he and Liza Moretti could never be.
And the sooner he—and she—accepted that, the better.
He had worried that as time passed and Liza replayed their evening together, she might develop feelings for him, that she would begin to see him in a different light.
The wrong light.
So he fanned the flames.
“Patricia’s in Aspen,” he replied, recalling the woman’s holiday plans.
“Why aren’t you with her?”
Matt lifted one shoulder casually. “I always spend the holidays with my brothers.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Penny said you spent Christmas Day at the office.”
Navigating through this endless minefield with Liza was going to be even trickier if his sister-in-law kept feeding her information. Rather than reply, he changed the subject. “Why are you outside?”
Liza turned her face away from him, and for a moment, he didn’t think she would answer. When she looked at him again, he saw that damn resignation he’d seen in her eyes one too many times.
When she replied, it was with that same forthright, blunt honesty he’d come to expect from her. “I don’t have another still-single, stroke-of-midnight New Year’s Eve kiss in me.”
Goddammit.
Her words felt like a punch to the gut. Was it because he now cared about her happiness?
Or because her words struck a vein deep inside him? Reminded him just how lonely he was.
Liza held his gaze, let him see. Her pain, her loneliness, everything was right there, reflected in those gorgeous brown eyes. He was seeing the real her.
It was as beautiful as it was heartbreaking.
She’d captured his attention a year and a half earlier, her eyes meeting his, full of fire and challenge and even desire. She never looked away, never hid who she was.
Before he could begin to formulate a response to her confession, the countdown began, loud voices yelling from inside the club.
“Ten! Nine! Eight!”
They’d just hit “Seven!” when Matt moved. He gripped her upper arms and pulled her toward him, her chest hitting his at the same time their lips touched.
If he’d taken her by surprise, she gave no indication. Liza’s hands gripped his waist, her fingers burrowing beneath his jacket, finding his shirt. She tightened her hold, tugging him even closer as their mouths opened.
His tongue brushed hers, stealing her taste, her breath, her sensuous moan. He released her arms so that he could touch her face, cup those rosy cheeks, twist her head to deepen the kiss even more.
Sliding his fingers around her neck, he grasped her silky hair. Closing a fist around it, he pulled her head back, fighting like the devil not to slam her against the lamppost and fuck out all this excruciating need.
Liza groaned again and he captured the sound, her hands slipping down to his hips as she pushed herself against him. He recalled the night of the gala, the way he’d thrust his thigh between her legs in the elevator, the way she’d humped against it, seeking stimulation, completion. What would he give to hear her cries as she came again?
Every instinct in his body was screaming out for him to take this woman, claim her, own her, make her his in every single way he could.
She nipped at his lower lip, attempting to claim control of the kiss, a purely bratty move that had his cock growing even harder. She was playing with him, trying to force his hand.
Fuck if she didn’t know how to push all his buttons. Matt gave her a taste of her own medicine, as he pulled her hair harder, held her tighter, made certain she knew exactly who held the power.
Another full minute passed before Matt’s wit returned and he became cognizant of the sounds around them, the honking of car horns, the blaring of noisemakers, people belting out “Auld Lang Syne.”
Liza appeared to have come to her senses as well, and she pulled away. The conqueror inside him almost dragged her back. He wasn’t finished with her. Not by a longshot.
But…
They were both panting, fighting to find their breath as they stared into each other’s eyes.
And that was when he realized he’d fucked up again. Because the resignation he’d seen in her beautiful brown eyes was gone and, in its place, he saw something much worse.
Hope.
He released her quickly, taking a step away. And then another.
“Happy New Year, Liza.”
Liza frowned, confused by his retreat, but before she could call him back, he found the strength to do what had to be done.
He left.
Chapter Four
“So does that make sense?” Liza asked, putting her pencil down.
Ashley nodded. “Yeah. I think so.”
“Good. Then I think we’re done for today.”
“Algebra is still stupid. It’s not like I’m ever going to use this crap.”
Liza had heard the same argument from Ashley every single Saturday for the last three months. She’d gotten roped into tutoring the girl, one of the teens living at the Promise House, back in October after Ashley had failed four algebra quizzes in a row.
Arnold had been talking to Ashley about the importance of good grades when Liza had shown up that chilly Saturday in fall. He’d dragged Liza into the office, asked her if she understood algebra, and before she knew it, she and Ashley had a standing Saturday morning date to go over variables, coefficients, quadratic equations, and a bunch of other crap Liza hadn’t used since high school. Not that she’d ever confess that to Ashley. When Liza asked Arnold why he wasn’t tutoring the girl, he’d laughed hysterically, claiming he still used a calculator for simple multiplication because the nine times table had eluded him since elementary school.
