We moved in silence. Our steps echoed up the sweeping staircase – white marble, slightly curved, with railings that caught the light like melting gold. My hand grazed the banister, fingers trailing over the cool stone. It was beautiful here, warm and intimate in a way I didn’t expect him to choose.
At the top of the stairs, he kept walking down the long hallway. But I stopped in front of the first open door on the left.
He noticed my absence immediately, stopping a few feet ahead and turning to face me. His voice held a hint of tension at the edges.
“What are you doing?”
“Going to sleep?”
He stared at me for a beat, jaw clenched. “Our bedroom is here.”
There was something I couldn’t place in his voice.
I scoffed, crossing my arms and glancing away. “You don’t actually believe we’re going to sleep in the same bed?”
“Why not? We did last night. And it was amazing.”
“Yeah. One time. Out of necessity.”
His voice lowered. “You’re not sleeping in another room, Francesca. We’re married now.”
“Fakemarried,” I shot back.
His jaw tightened. “Francesca – ”
“I’m not arguing over this.” My hand was already on the doorframe. “I want my own room. End of discussion.”
A silence stretched between us – long enough to hear the hum of the city through the sixty-story windows. He didn’t say another word.
Something ugly and painful twisted in my chest.
It felt like there was suddenly an entire ocean between us – one I didn’t know how to cross, and wasn’t even sure if I should.
Taking a deep breath, I looked at him one last time – his eyes unusually unreadable – before I stepped inside.
“Goodnight, Matteo.”
The door closed with a soft, final click.
I didn’t sleep well.
No matter what position I tried, I couldn’t sleep.
I was too cold. Too exposed. Too alone.
The morning couldn’t have come sooner. The moment the sun raised, I got up and got on with my day, making sure to take a tour around the penthouse. But not before watching the sunrise from my room, secretly wondering if Matteo was doing the same.
I hated that I loved Matteo’s taste. But was happier my new home for the next year would be comfortable.
I was in the kitchen making coffee when I heard him come in.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
It was past eleven in the morning and his hair was wet and messy. But he smelled good after a shower, even from across the room.
He frowned with a smile.
“Good morning, wife.”
