My world completely shifted off its axis the day I walked into the Marino family kitchen to pick up Sofia’s wedding cake and met the most stunning woman I'd ever seen. My heart was stolen from that moment. A part of me—the part that has never been in love before—figured that I would grow out of these feelings. That I'd lose my head in work or develop interests elsewhere, but I couldn't have been more wrong.
Matilde is a drug.
Alluring. Irresistible… addictive.
She pulls me in with her beautiful blue eyes and locks me in place until I forget I am a man with a life outside the one she exists in. Yet somehow, I find myself settled in this corner of her little bakery café and spending most of my nights in her apartment rather than my own. Neither one of us has commented on or openly acknowledged that I'm now practically living here and spending every single waking moment with her. Fuck, I've been sending my men to deal with matters that require my physical presence and only leave when I absolutely have to.
Life has never been this good.
“What are you thinking so hard about?” Matilde’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I look up to see her refill my coffee. In her other hand is a slice of apple pie that makes my stomach growl.
“I was thinking about you,” I say honestly, my gaze following the plate when she places it on the table in front of me. “I’m going to gain a shit ton of weight if you keep feeding me like this.”
“I don’t think so,” Matilde says, reaching up and squeezing my shoulder. “Hmm, you can always work it off later, if you like.”
I don’t miss the suggestion in her tone or the blush that follows. It’s been quite an interesting couple of days, watching her go from hostile to a blushing virgin to this bold little succubus who’s always seeking my touch and inviting me into her warmth. I know her body now better than I know mine, but still…I can tell she’s still holding back. I’ve tried to rationalize it as her not being certain about me, but I'm nothing if not a patient man. I waited six months for her; I can wait a little longer for her heart.
Hell, I'll wait forever if that's what it takes. Matilde—she’s it for me, and there's no going back from that.
“Are you done with work? Can you take a short break?” I ask, taking a sip of my coffee and watching her from over the rim of the mug. “I’m sure I’ll need some exercise to work off this pie.”
“I lock up in an hour. You sure you can wait until then?” she asks, leaning her hip against the table and tugging at her skirt to expose a little of her thigh. “Good thing we lock up early on Fridays. Maybe—”
“Miss Marino?”
Matilde straightens up and flushes when she turns to find Mr. Davis watching her. It's clear her contractor didn't miss my little cookie’s attempt to seduce me, but he doesn’t comment on it. “Mr. Davis,” Matilde says, clearing her voice as she looks anywhere but at the man. “Um, did you need something?”
"Yeah," he says, stepping forward and opening his palm for us to see. "We found this taped to the bottom of a door on the third floor. Looks pretty old. I thought you’d like to have it.”
I’m immediately on my feet, approaching Matilde as she lifts the key from Davis’s hand. She turns it around to read the numbering, but the letters are covered with dust. The shape itself is unique, suggesting it’s probably the key to a safety deposit box.
“How did you know to look under a door?” I muse.
“Some fucking luck if you ask me,” Davis snorts. “One of my boys noticed the glint of the metal as they were going to throw that old rotten door away and brought it to me.”
“Thank you for the key, Mr. Davis,” Matilde tells the man. “Hey, would you like some apple pie? I made it fresh this morning. You can bring some muffins and cookies to your men, too.”
The man’s face lights up like a schoolboy's, and he follows Matilde to the counter, leaving me alone with the key. Something in my gut tells me that whoever tore the flooring apart was looking for something connected to this key, but I can’t be sure. Hell, it could be nothing, but there’s no harm in trying.
I use my thumb to clear off the dust on the back and make out a name engraved on it. I take out my phone and look up the name. “Interesting,” I mutter when the results show that it’s thename of a bank right here in New York. Small but old. And would you look at that—it’s open late on Fridays.
I wait until Matilde has closed the shop before driving us to the bank to investigate. It's there that we learn that the key doesn't belong to a safety deposit box but to a large bank locker. It takes a bit of maneuvering and Matilde confirming her identity before we’re informed that the locker belonged to her parents and that she’s one of the only two people on the record who can access it. We’re shown to a waiting room where Matilde tries to call Arianna with the news, but the call goes to voicemail.
“Ari’s probably in the middle of something,” Matilde says, pocketing her phone. “I’ll try her again later.”
I can tell Matilde’s nervous, so I take her hand in mine, rubbing my thumb over her wrist and hoping to ease her concerns. “It’s probably nothing,” she murmurs, her leg starting to fidget. I place a hand on that too. “If it was something important, they would have left it in the trust like they did the building and our inheritance, right?”
I don’t answer, uncertain of what to tell her. There are so many levels of security involved in this process for whatever’s in that locker to be nothing. So instead, I kiss the back of her hand and offer her an assuring smile. “Whatever it is, we’re going to deal with it. Together.”
She returns my smile, but it’s nervous at best. The nerves worsen when the bank attendant comes back once she’s confirmed that Matilde’s parents died and has received authorization to show Matilde the locker. She guides us into a private room, and the second we step in, we're hit by the smell of metal and antiseptic. The air is cooler in here, and the walls are a pale institutional gray with polished cold tiles. The attendantleads us past a couple of rows of lockers before stopping in front of one.
“I’ll be outside if you need me,” the attendant says and walks out, the steel doors closing behind her.
We stand in silence for several moments as Matilde stares unmoving at the locker. I’m about to suggest leaving it for another day when she’s ready to face what’s in there, but she turns to me. “Will you please open it for me?” she whispers, her hands shaky as she hands me the key. “I’m scared. I’m really nervous, Luca.”
“We don’t have to do anything today. We can wait a little longer until your sister gets home, and then you two can open it together.”
“I don’t know if I can wait. I’ll keep thinking and obsessing over it, wondering if it’s something my parents wanted us to have or if it’s something that was never meant to be found.” She bites nervously into her nails before lifting those gorgeous eyes back to me. “Please open it for me.”
