"I—" Words. I need words. "Giulia said. The closet. Colors. The new laundry girl mixes things up."
Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.
"I didn't know you were—" I gesture vaguely at his entire situation. The towel. The water. The muscles that have no right existing outside of Renaissance paintings.
"Clearly."
He doesn't move to cover himself. Doesn't reach for a robe or retreat to the bathroom. Just stands there, dripping.
I force my eyes up to his face.
Mistake.
His hair is darker when wet, slicked back from his forehead. Water beads on his jaw, catching light. His expression is unreadable, but something burns behind those dark eyes. Something that makes my stomach flip.
"I'll go," I manage. "I'll just—go. Now. Leaving."
I take a step backward. My heel catches on the closet threshold.
Nico moves.
Fast. Faster than a man in a towel should be able to move. His hand catches my elbow before I can fall, fingers wrapping around bare skin.
Oh.
His palm is warm. Rough with calluses I didn't expect. The grip is firm but not painful, steadying me with practiced ease.
We're close now.
"Careful."
One word.
I look up at him. This close, I can see the individual droplets clinging to his collarbone. The way his pulse beats steady against his throat. The slight tension in his jaw.
"Thank you." It comes out breathy. Wrecked.
His thumb moves. Just once. A small stroke against the inside of my elbow that sends electricity shooting up my arm.
Accident. Has to be an accident.
But his eyes drop to where he's touching me. Linger there. Then travel slowly up my arm, my shoulder, my neck, until they reach my face.
I've been looked at before.
It should feel clinical.
It doesn't.
"The closet is organized," I say, because silence is dangerous. Silence lets me think about how his skin feels under my palm—wait, when did my hand land on his chest?
I yank it back.
Nico's fingers tighten on my elbow. Just for a second. Then he releases me, stepping back in one fluid motion.
"Good."
The word is clipped. Dismissive. But his eyes don't match his tone.
