"I'm not going to break."
"Keep telling yourself that." Matteo clapped me on the shoulder. "Just remember—when it happens, and it will happen, Stefan and I are here. We've been where you're heading. We can help."
He left before I could respond.
I tried to convince myself Matteo was wrong.
Failed completely.
***
That night I brought Julian dinner again.
Grilled chicken and vegetables from the club's kitchen. Water with lemon because he'd mentioned preferring it to sparkling.
Julian was sitting on the bed reading when I entered. He looked up and smiled. Not the polite smile he'd given Sandro and Luca. Something more genuine. More open.
Something that made my control slip just slightly.
"Right on time," he said. "You're very predictable."
"Predictable is safe."
"Predictable is boring." He set down the book and moved to the table. "But I appreciate the consistency."
I set down the tray and moved to my usual chair.
Julian started eating. We sat in the comfortable silence that had developed over the past week.
Then Julian broke it.
"Why do you always bring my meals personally?"
"I'm making sure you eat."
"There are other people who could do that. Stefan offered. So did one of the kitchen staff."
"I don't trust them."
"Do you trust anyone?"
"Not really."
Julian set down his fork. Looked at me with those dark eyes that saw too much.
"That sounds lonely."
"It's safe."
"Maybe safe and lonely are the same thing sometimes."
The words hit harder than they should have. Because he was right. Because he'd seen through me in a week when most people never got past the surface.
I didn't have an answer for that.
We ate in silence. But it felt different now. Heavier. Weighted with truths neither of us wanted to acknowledge.
"Can I ask you something?" Julian said after a while.
