“I was hoping you’d tell me a story.” He pauses, his voice low. “The one you were working on all night.”
I don’t know what my hesitation is. Sharing my story ideas and brainstorming with him is what our pact is all about. “It’s not about you, if that’s what you were thinking.” I inhale deeply, holding the air in my lungs a moment before resigning myself to the fact that I should just tell him. “It’s about two people who end up falling for each other, even when they know they shouldn’t.”
“When they swear they wouldn’t?”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Yeah.”
“Can you tell me more?”
“I told you, I don’t share my work until I can convince myself that it’s not trash.”
“I refuse to believe anything you write is trash.” Matteo is quiet for a beat. “I looked you up. Everyone loves you and your work. You didn’t tell me you’re famous like that.”
I blow out a breath. “I feel more like a has-been lately.”
“You’re not,” he declares. “I refuse to believe that. You’re working on your next bestseller and it’s going to go crazy. Don’t worry, I will be telling anyone who’ll listen to go read it.”
“Oh god,” I groan, dragging my hand down my face. I didn’t consider him and his overly confident self. I didn’t once think that maybe he’ll go telling everyone that he helped me with inspiration and research.
I do not want to be labeled as another one of Matteo Ford's conquests.
“I should have made you sign an NDA or something.”
Matteo clicks his tongue with amusement. “Am I your dirty little secret, Sunny?”
“No.” The word comes out without hesitation. “I just—you have quite the reputation and ego.”
“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.
