“Hm,” he murmurs, the sound almost detached. “Wouldn’t want to tarnish yourself and your work with someone like me, is that it?” He sighs, long and exasperated. “For the record, you shouldn’t believe everything you read on the internet or hear from unreliable sources.”
“Are you saying that none of it is true? That you don’t just jump from one woman to the next?”
“It’s not like that.” I detect a hint of defensiveness in his tone, then he continues a little softer, “I don’t sleep with everyone I date.”
My stomach sinks, although there’s a bit of relief I shouldn’t be feeling. His dating life isn’t my concern, I should just leave it alone. “Then tell me what it’s like.”
The silence stretches. I shouldn’t have even asked. Matteo and I have a deal—an agreement—and this is not part of it. We can be friendly, friends even, without knowing each other’s secrets.
“It doesn’t matter,” he finally says. “I should get some sleep.”
The abrupt ending to our conversation has me reeling, panic rolling in the pit of my stomach. That wasn’t the turn it was supposed to take. The words I spoke, I couldn’t stop them from coming out. I don’t know why I said any of it.
None of it should matter to me anyways.
“Matteo, I’m sorry,” I say in a rush, wishing I could take back all the words I spoke. “That was rude of me and I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing you said was untrue.” He sighs, sounding more tired now than he did when he first called. “I’ll text you when I’m back in Hillford. I still want to take you out to celebrate.”
My throat tightens, hope bubbling in my chest. “You do?”
“Of course, I do.”
“Okay,” I say softly, swallowing hard. The fluttering in my stomach is an annoyance that needs to be extinguished. There’s no reason to entertain it. Every interaction, every conversation, every second spent together—it’s all for the plot.
“Goodnight, Matteo.”
He lets out another deep breath. “Night, Sunny.”
Again, we both linger on the phone a moment longer than we need to, like neither of us wants to hang up just yet. A smile tugs on my lips and I hear a quiet laughter from him. It’s as if both of our fingers are hovering over the end call button, waiting to see who does it first.
“Goodnight,” I whisper.
“Goodnight,” he murmurs back, just before I press the button and end the call. I slide my phone onto my nightstand, roll onto my back, and stare up at the ceiling, my heart thumping against my ribcage.
We’re both knowingly using one another, but this feels like a dangerous game we’re playing. It’s like we’re on a slippery slope, on the precipice of falling. One wrong step and we’re both going down.
CHAPTER TEN
MATTEO
“Compromise was a precious artifact. It was neither carved from clay nor painted upon a canvas. It was a shared glance. A subtle nod. An understanding that as much as we didn’t want to admit it, our ideas were better when they were intertwined together.” - Julian Hart, Painted Inferno
FORD FAM CHAT
Elena
Good morning, big brother.
It’s Dad’s birthday Friday. You’re coming to dinner, right?
Bella
Yeah, right. They haven’t talked since their fight last month.
Mom’s pissed, by the way.
She said you’ve been dodging her calls, Matteo.
