She hums contentedly, apparently satisfied with this answer. “Good reason. Better than saying it’s because of my sparkling personality.”
“That too,” I murmur, pressing another kiss to her forehead. “The whole fucking package, Raven. Every wild inch of you.”
She shifts, tilting her face up to mine in the darkness. I can just make out the gleam of her eyes in the moonlight. “For the record,” she whispers, “I don’t love you. But if I did, it would definitely be because of your pierced cock.”
I laugh again, softer this time, and pull her closer.
“Matteo?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t be in love with me,” she says, sounding serious now. “I’m okay with being your fake girlfriend. Hell, I’d love to beyour fake girlfriend with benefits. But that’s it. Once the favor is complete, I’m gone from your life.”
Chapter 22
Raven
Iwake to empty sheets and the ghost of Matteo’s warmth beside me. Sunlight streams through my half-drawn curtains, painting the room in golden stripes.
From the living room, I hear his voice. It’s low, controlled, and tight with something that sounds like anger.
Stretching like a cat, I reach for my old alarm clock. Seven o’clock. Ugh, this is way too early for me. But apparently not for Matteo, who’s already up and handling what sounds like business.
As I think his name, his words from last night push to the forefront of my mind.
“I think I’m in love with you.”
Nope. Not dealing with that right now. Pin it.
“… don’t care what it takes.” His voice drifts through the door, muffled but unmistakably tense.
I should probably go out there. Say good morning. Ask who he’s talking to. That’s what a real girlfriend would do, right? Not that I am one. I’m a fake girlfriend. With benefits. But definitely not in love.
Instead, I slide out of bed and gather my clothes for the day. Then, I tiptoe to the bathroom, shutting the door with a soft click. The shower starts with a whine of old pipes, steam quickly filling the small space. As I step under the spray, hot water sluices over my skin.
The water’s doing nothing for the mental imprint of Matteo’s confession. Love. What a ridiculous concept. You can’t fall in love with someone in… what, two weeks? I suppose it’s only really technically been one week today.
Seven days since he took me out for dinner and told me what he’s expecting of me. Twenty-one days since we met for the first time. Anyway, the specifics don’t matter. Whatever he’s feeling has to be lust. Obsession. Maybe even infatuation. But love? No.
If he really did love me, he’d tell me why he showed up wearing an eyepatch. Right? People in love share those kinds of things.
I scrub shampoo through my hair, trying to wash away his words. He can’t possibly love me. He barely knows me. And what he does know—the chaos, the impulsivity, the emotional pinboard that is my coping mechanism—isn’t exactly the stuff of forever.
By the time I’ve rinsed conditioner from my hair and shaved, I’ve successfully compartmentalized Matteo’s confession into a neat little package labeled ‘deal with never.’
I wrap myself in a towel and wipe condensation from the mirror, studying my reflection. My cheeks are flushed, eyes a little too bright. I look… different somehow. Like someone’s adjusted all my settings just slightly.
Pin it.
After brushing my teeth and putting on fresh underwear, the mirror has cleared enough for me to work on my face. I apply minimal makeup and slip into a navy blue summer dress that hits mid-thigh.
Black pumps complete the look. The whole outfit screams ‘competent PR professional who definitely isn’t sleeping with a Mob boss and absolutely isn’t freaking out about said Mob boss dropping the L-word.’
With one last glance in the mirror, I square my shoulders and prepare to face Matteo. And byprepare,I mean I absolutely don’t think about how to respond if he mentions love again.
Pin it harder.
When I stride into the living room, Matteo is standing by the window, phone pressed to his ear. He’s already dressed in… where the hell did he get those clothes from? He was not wearing those pants yesterday, and as far as I know, his shirt is still soaking.
