But I don’t let him finish. I’m already sprinting toward my building, leaving him standing there in the busy street. I don’t look back. I force my legs faster and faster until I’m safely inside the elevator.
I don’t hear him call after me—and I’m thankful.
But a small part of me, a tiny fraction I wish I could kill, wanted him to come after me. Wanted him to grab me, kiss me, claim me with a searing kiss that would burn through everything.
I palm my hand over my face. I feel like an idiot.
Oh God.
When the doors shut, I lean against the mirrored wall and release a shaky breath. I don’t have time to process what just happened… or rather,didn’thappen.
I went out for a simple coffee, and suddenly I was seconds away from kissing a mysterious stranger.
The doors to my floor slide open, and I make my way to my apartment. My hands tremble as I unlock the door.
The moment I step inside, false comfort wraps around me like silk-covered chains. The scent of roses lingers, sweet and suffocating. I drop my bag on the marble counter and head straight to the sink, running cold water over my wrists, as if it’ll wash off whatever that was.
Because I don’t know what it was.
I just know it scared the hell out of me.
Matteo’s presence clings to me—warm against my skin. His voice, that low heat… and the way he looked at me.
Not like he wanted to take something.
But like he wanted toseeme. Really see me.
I press a hand to my chest, trying to steady the chaos unraveling inside me. What the hell am I doing?
My phone buzzes on the countertop, snapping me out of my haze.
The name flashes across the screen like a slap to the face.
Giacomo.
My heart sinks.
Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.
I hesitate, taking a moment to collect myself. The storm rages outside—a fitting theme for the man calling me.
I answer.
“Ciao, cara,” he says, his voice like velvet soaked in acid. “Missed you today. I came around to see you, but the doorman said you left.”
I force a smile he can’t see. “I went out for some air. Just the café down the street. I was tired of seeing the same four walls.”
“I would’ve sent a car.”
“I didn’t want to bother you.”
There’s a pause—a beat of silence that feels like a held breath. And suddenly, I feel guilty.
Why?I don’t know. But it crawls across my skin anyway.
Does he know Matteo walked me home?
“You’re never a bother,” he says softly. “You know that. You are my fiancée.”
