“I’ve always called you that.” The whole crew called her the paddock princess, and I was pretty sure even when she actedannoyed, she loved the endearing nickname from the crew. It also always made her roll her eyes at me, sometimes even the tiniest of blush crept up her cheeks before she would slam down her designer glasses to block it.
I craved that reaction like a drug.
She glared. “Well, you don’t get to now.”
She was angry. Not really at me, I think—but at herself. The way she was holding the sheets tighter, not meeting my eyes. Embarrassment. Shame. It twisted something in my chest. This was worse than what I expected. I’d rather her rage be focused on me.
I wanted to tell her she didn’t need to feel any of that.
That last night wasfucking amazing. That she was a literal dream.
But if I said any of that, she’d run.
So I forced a shrug. Forced the smile.
“It was just a night, Nic. You’re allowed to have a little fun.”
Wrong move.
Her head snapped up, her expression icy. “Fun?”
I nodded, slow, trying not to flinch. “Isn’t that what it was?”
She didn’t answer. She just slid out of bed, sheets tangling around her as she fumbled for her dress from last night. Her back was to me, and I caught the line of her spine, the faint trail of my fingerprints I was almost sure I imagined. My mouth went dry.
This wasn’t what I wanted. Not like this. I dragged a hand through my hair, jaw tight.
“Nicola—”
“Nope.” She held up a hand without turning. “We’re not doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“The post-disaster debrief. This was—” she paused, found her dress, and pulled it on over her head with a violent tug “—a lapse in judgment. One I’d really like to forget.”
I laughed, short and sharp. “Right. Because sleeping with me is so unthinkable.”
She spun to face me. “Matteo.”
I met her eyes. “Nicola.”
And then we just…stood there.
I wanted to go to her. Wanted to kiss her again just to prove that last night wasn’t a fluke. That there was somethingrealunder all that hatred and history and heat.
But I didn’t.
Because she was already rebuilding her walls, brick by brick, and I could see it happening in real time.
So I backed off.
“Fine,” I said, voice too light, too easy, “It never happened.”
She blinked at that. Like she wasn’t expecting me to say it. Like maybe a small part of herdidwant me to fight her on it.
But I was not going to beg her to feel something she was not ready to admit.
So I let her walk out of my hotel room with her chin high, heels clicking, and armor locked back in place.
