Chapter 7 - A Taste of Champagne and Cordite
The private master stateroom of the Sovereign was quiet, bathed in the soft amber glow of recessed deck lamps.
The storm had passed over the bay, leaving the ocean smooth as dark glass beneath a blanket of southern stars.
Maeve stood before the full-length mirror, slowly slipping Matteo’s tuxedo jacket from her shoulders.
Her navy linen dress hung in ragged ribbons down her spine, the exposed skin marked by a thin, red abrasion where Camille’s stylus had dragged across the surface.
Footsteps sounded softly on the carpet.
Matteo walked into the room carrying a small crystal bowl of warm water and a sterile roll of gauze.
He set the bowl on the vanity, stepping behind her.
His reflection towered over hers in the glass—broad, dark, an apex predator who had just brought an entire coastal syndicate to its knees without spilling a drop of his own blood.
He dipped a clean linen cloth into the water.
With infinite, breathtaking gentleness, his large hands cleaned the scratch along her back, his touch so light she barely felt the sting.
“It will leave a small mark,” Matteo whispered, his gray eyes darkening with lingering wrath in the mirror.
“Scars are just proofs of survival, Matteo,” Maeve replied softly, turning in his arms until her chest rested against his shirt. “My father had twenty of them.”
Matteo wrapped his strong arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his solid warmth.
He buried his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling the clean, familiar scent of vanilla, cold stone, and ocean air.
“Nobody touches you again, Maeve,” he vowed, his baritone vibrating against her ribs. “Not in this city. Not on any sea.”
Maeve looped her arms around his neck, smiling up into his rugged face.
“Camilla told me I couldn't afford the tax on her dress, Matteo.”
Matteo let out a low, deep chuckle—a rare, beautiful sound that always made her pulse jump.
“Her dress is currently sitting in a federal evidence locker,” he murmured against her lips. “And her father’s shipping line belongs to you tomorrow morning.”
May you like
He leaned down, bringing his mouth to hers in a fierce, possessive, deeply tender kiss that sealed their victory beneath the Florida sky.
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