The moment the driver turned around and said, "Sorry, not enough seats," you knew exactly what was coming.

Before you could even react, Mattheo’s signature smirk was already in place. He leaned back against the seat, arms lazily draped over the backrest as if he had all the time in the world.

“Well, well,” he drawled, tilting his head at you. “Looks like fate’s got jokes.”

With a dramatic roll of your eyes, you plopped down onto his lap, ignoring the way his arms immediately circled your waist, locking you in place.

Mattheo let out a low chuckle. “Cozy, isn’t it?” he murmured, the smirk evident in his voice.

“Shut up,” you muttered, shifting slightly to get comfortable. That was a mistake.

The car suddenly jolted over a bump in the road, sending you bouncing against him. A sharp intake of breath left your lips as you felt his body tense beneath you, followed by his deep chuckle vibrating through your back.

“You okay there?” His voice dripped with amusement, his grip on your waist tightening just enough to keep you from moving too much.

You straightened your back, willing yourself to ignore the way he felt beneath you.

His lips were close to your ear now. “Don’t be shy now, princess,” he murmured. “We’re already this close.”

“I swear,” you hissed under your breath, “if you keep talking, I’ll throw you out of this car.”

Mattheo only laughed. “You’d miss me.”

You scoffed, turning your head slightly to glare at him. “You have a high opinion of yourself.”

He grinned. “And yet, here you are, sitting on my lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world.”

You opened your mouth to fire back a retort, but the car hit another bump, making you jolt against him once more. His grip on your waist flexed, his fingers pressing into your sides as he steadied you.

“Careful now,” he mused, voice dropping to something softer. “Wouldn’t want you getting too comfortable.”

You huffed, shifting just to spite him. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he said, and the worst part was—he might’ve been right.