Because I can't stay away.
Because you make me want things I swore I'd never want.
Because for the first time in my life, the math doesn't matter.
I don't say any of it. Instead, I lean in. Slow. Giving her time to pull away. To tell me to stop. To be the smart one when I've apparently lost every ounce of intelligence I ever possessed.
Her lips part.
My mouth hovers an inch from hers.
And then someone knocks on the door.
Kristen scrambles to her feet so fast she nearly knees me in the face. I catch myself on the wall, jaw clenching as I straighten.
Of course.
"Just a minute!" Kristen's voice comes out high. Breathless. She swipes at her face, trying to erase the evidence of tears.
I don't move. Don't speak. Just watch her pull herself back together piece by piece, building walls I was seconds away from tearing down.
Kristen
Nico opens the door, and I see Vittoria standing in the hallway. Her eyes dart between us.
"Everything okay?" she asks, but her gaze stays fixed on her brother.
Nico doesn't answer. He brushes past her without a word.
Vittoria watches him go, then turns back to me. "So... is everything okay?"
"I don't know."
She steps into the room and closes the door behind her, leaning against it with her arms crossed. Not threatening. Just... present.
My mind races, trying to piece together what the hell just happened. Nico was kneeling in front of me. His thumb on my cheek. His face so close I could count his eyelashes. And I was going to let him kiss me.
No. No, no, no.
This is not happening. This cannot be happening.
I press my palms against my thighs, willing my heartbeat to slow down. Nico Sartori is... he's him. A man who casually discusses Russian mob debts over breakfast. A man whose family probably has bodies buried somewhere I don't want to think about.
And I'm me. A single mother with $1,200 to my name, a vengeful ex-husband, and a job cleaning toilets in a mafia compound.
What woman like me would Nico Sartori ever want?
The answer is obvious. None. I'm no one.
"Look," Vittoria says, pushing off from the door. "I don't really want to get in the middle of whatever's going on between you two."
My stomach drops. "There's nothing going on."
She raises an eyebrow. The same skeptical look Nico gets, I realize. Must be genetic.
"I'm just the housekeeper," I add quickly, my voice climbing higher. "I know my place. I'm sorry if I overstepped, or if it looked like something—I didn't mean to?—"
"Kristen." Vittoria holds up a hand. "Stop."
