The Frame-Up (The Golden Arrow #1)(78)
“Michael-Grace, you’re obviously upset. Can we talk about this?”
“I’m not upset. This is business, remember? No reason to be upset.” Maybe I’m a little upset. Okay, a lot upset. The fact that I’ve just realized how invested my heart is in this fake relationship, how invested I am in this case, leaves me rattled.
“MG, look at me.”
“I need to go.”
“Look at me.”
I do so defiantly. If it will speed up the process of me getting out of here, fine.
His hands reach out for me, fingers closing around my waist. He pulls me to him, though I fight for a few steps. “Michael-Grace Martin, come here.”
I am at war with myself, but my full name on his lips is my undoing. I move forward until I’m nestled against his Captain America insignia.
“I know why you’re upset. I know we said this was business, but it’s clearly not just business.” He sounds pained and unsure. Like he’s not one to usually be vulnerable. It’s hard for him to admit; I hear it in every note of his voice.
Clearly not just business. Our proximity allows me to feel his heart thudding a mile a minute, and I’m losing my resolve to run out of here at about the same pace.
I need to keep my mind on my plan. Leave. This is a distraction when the case may be going cold as we speak. “It’s not?” I get suckered into the conversation. Emo MG wins this round.
“Not for me.” He takes a breath. “Look. I’ll lay it out there. I know this is messy. And I know there’s the case. MG, I’m not good at this.” His grip on my waist becomes stronger, more sure, like he’s reached some decision. “I probably put work first too many times in my past relationships too. But you’re different. I want you to know that.” He licks his lips, and there’s a small quiver in one of his fingers before he tightens his grip more and pulls me even closer. His voice gains surety, and I revel in his breath on my cheek. In our closeness. “If working this case means you’re walking out on . . . us, whatever we are, I’ll resign from it. I’ll let Detective Rideout finish up. I’ll take away the thing that’s keeping us apart.”
My heart hammers in response. He’d give up a case for me? Forget a one-two punch; this is a total knockout. One that leaves me weak-kneed and dizzy. I’ve never had a man offer to do something like that before. I’m used to boyfriends using me. There was the guy capitalizing on our dates. On a broader stage, the years I’ve felt undervalued by the executives at work. All the guys at cons who were interested only in my “finer assets,” as Rideout said. Yet here’s Matteo, knight in shining armor, willing to give everything up for me. It’s something I thought I’d never want, but I’m awash with how amazing and scary this feels. Because it’s real.
Real. Reality crashes back in as I contemplate how real the case is too. I can’t have Detective Rideout head up this investigation. Not only did he train under Anthony Munez and could very well be the dirty cop, but he’d have me in jail in less than twenty-four hours, guaranteed. Offering to give up the case proves Matteo is true. Honest. The double agent would never give up control, and I need an honest cop at the helm of this, no matter what happens.
I reach out and put my hand on his chest, right over his true-blue heart. “I want you to stay on the case. I want us to solve it. And no way you’re letting Rideout lead this. The guy already thinks I’m the Golden Arrow. I’d end up in handcuffs for sure.” The darkness presses in on us, and I run my hand up his arm. “I—I really appreciate you saying those things. You’re worth waiting for, however long this case takes.” The last words come out in an almost-whisper. I mean them to the very bottom of my stiletto heels and all the way back up again.
Matteo looks like I’ve given him Christmas. Then his lips are a breath from mine. “MG, I can’t stop thinking about you.” His wrists circle mine, and he lifts our hands above my head and presses me back into the pile of coats.
Our kiss isn’t soft. We grasp at each other as if we’re drowning. We fall into the coats, and I grab the bar above us to keep from falling all the way through. We shouldn’t be doing this, but oh we should be doing this. I’m made for this kiss—costumes, coat closet, and all.
Matteo’s breath is ragged as he drags his hands down over my coat and back up underneath, his hands hot against the lace of my dress. He leans down, kissing the pulse beating wildly at the base of my throat, and I nearly pass out from the sensation. My head swims, blood pounding in my ears. I can’t get enough of this man. He’s gotten under my skin, in my brain, and stolen my heart.
Coat Check Girl chooses this very moment to reappear. A triangle of light from the door falls across us, and she clears her throat in a loud and well-rehearsed manner. “Did you find your coat, miss?”
The coat rack nearly collapses beneath Matteo and me, and we part on a laugh.
“I—uh—yeah, I found it. Right here. Thanks for checking on us.” Not. I push to stand, grab my coat where it has sagged to my elbows, and pull it back over my shoulders.
She throws me a look that says she’s partly sorry she had to interrupt us. “I have more coats to hang,” she says with one last appreciative look at Matteo. “Be back in a sec.” The triangle of light disappears.
“I feel like I’m fifteen,” Matteo says, his forehead coming to rest on mine.