Matteo and me.
Not fake. Not forced.
Wanted.
The restaurant was candlelit warmth against the cool hum of Manhattan outside. Our table – tucked in its own little alcove behind sheer drapes – gave us the illusion of privacy without removing us from the world. I could still hear the distant clink of glasses, feel the pulse of the city through the floorboards, see skyscraper light glitter across Matteo’s eyes.
He sat next to me; jacket off, sweater sleeves rolled, forearms flexing as he held the menu.God help me.
We’d flirted through the appetizer, through the entrée, through three shared glances that felt like touches. Now dessert sat ignored between us, melting chocolate and strawberries we were too busy watching each other to eat.
Matteo leaned in to murmur in my ear, voice dropping to a velvet murmur. “Tell me a secret.”
Warmth curled low in my stomach. I swirled my wine, pretending to think, even though the memory rushed forward immediately.
“That night… At the White Party?” I took a deep breath, suddenly feeling nervous. “I didn’t walk into the bathroom by accident. I went to check on you. I don’t know why… I just had to.”
Something elusive passed though his eyes – something raw and unguarded.
“I didn’t need to be in Vegas for Tony’s fight.” His thumb traced my wrist. “I flew down to see you,princesa.”
My breath caught.
The space between us disappeared quickly – his hand on the back of my neck, my lips already parting. The kiss was soft, reverent, like he was memorizing the taste of me.
When we pulled back, I bit my lip, nerves buzzing under my skin.
“Me too…” I whispered like it was a sin.
Slow appreciation spread across Matteo’s face.
“Our early morning in Hawaii,” He said, voice somber, remembering. “I couldn’t sleep because you were all I could think about. I walked the beach, dreaming about you. Then… I saw you.”
I smiled, feeling the echo of ocean breeze and moonlight.
“Something was pulling me outside that night. Then I saw you…”
His jaw tightened slightly. “It broke my heart to watch you walk away the next night in Vegas.”
Guilt prickled. I reached under the table, touching his hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Tell me you won’t walk away from us again.”
My pulse stuttered.
Us. The word had weight. Future. Fear.
I wanted to say I wouldn’t, but doubt flickered because I’d run before. I’d freaked out. I’d panicked.
“I won’t…”
His hand came up to cup my cheek, guiding my eyes to his, not letting me look away.
“Promise me.”
The restaurant blurred, sound dissolving. All I could hear was my heartbeat and his breath, close enough to share.
I swallowed, something deep inside me shifting.
