He says it casually, but his words give me pause. Is Matt really that unhappy? Why would someone who comes from a parent who’s so obviously brimming with love shun the pleasantries of the people around him? It’s hard to imagine him growing up in anything other than a world filled with comfort and opportunities. If that’s the case, why is he always on defense? What is he protecting himself from?Whois he protecting himself from?
“Were you always the way you are now?” I decide to ask. “Even when you were little?”
“You mean awful?” he counters.
I sway a bit from side to side in a noncommittal gesture. “Awfulfeels extreme. Let’s go withprickly.”
“I don’t likeprickly,” he grumbles. “Pick another word.”
“Stop arguing semantics and tell me your villain origin story.”
Matt sighs, accepting that he’s locked in this exchange for at least another couple of minutes. “There’s nothing to tell. I wasn’t alwaysprickly. Believe it or not, I was considered fun for a solid majority of my life.”
I try to imagine it, and it’s easier than I would have anticipated. I visualize Matt with a group of friends. Laughing, drinking, joking around. I see him playing pranks and smiling at nothing. It’s like I’m watching a movie and he’s not miscast. He fits.
“I actually can believe that,” I tell him. “Even with your glaring grumpy cat aura, you still exude a certain level of charisma.”
“Do I?” he asks, a little surprised.
“I’d say so. If we didn’t get off to such a terrible start, I’d like to think you wouldn’t have hated me. In different circumstances, maybe we could have even been friends.” He continues to look at me but says nothing. Maybe he’s picturing me in a different world the same way I just did to him. “Would you have liked that?” I ask.
His eyes don’t leave mine and surprisingly, I’m okay with it. I even smile a little. “I don’t know,” he answers.
I’m about to ask him another question when I have the misfortune to notice Gabriele slithering toward us through the crowd.
“Ugh,” I groan, stretching my neck and forcing my gaze away.
Matt takes the smallest step closer. “What’s the matter?” he asks.
“Nothing. It’s just that I think someone is coming over and he’s not my favorite person. He hates us interns and he went pretty far out of his way in the hopes of ruining our night.”
My eyeline rises just in time to see Matt level a merciless glare in Gabriele’s direction. Gone is the partial openness he came close to showing me in the past few minutes. In fact, the way he appears now makes me wonder if it was ever even there to begin with. Now, Matt is all untouchable coldness and unapproachability. His jaw is set and his eyes are like stone and if Gabriele had any sense, he would turn in the opposite direction without a second thought.
Shocker of the century, he doesn’t.
“Buona sera,”he coos, his voice toady and smooth. “I’m Gabriele, assistant to the managing director of Gia Luca.”
My gaze moves between the two of them. Gabriele doesn’t acknowledge me at all. I might as well not be there, and if it were up to him, I’m sure I wouldn’t be.
“Nice to meet you,” Matt says. His right arm moves, and logically, I assume he’s about to extend it to shake Gabriele’s hand. But that’s not what he’s doing. Instead, his arm wraps around my waist, pulling me into him as he steps closer. Much closer. Close to the point that our hips are pressed together. Overlapping. I’m in shock and I don’t move. His hand is firm, but I could slide away if I wanted to.
I don’t want to.
“How rude of me,” he says to Gabriele. “Have you met Violet?”
Gabriele attempts to skewer me with his eyes, and if I wasn’t so distracted, I might be offended.
“I’ve had the pleasure, yes,” he answers.
To test a theory, I slide closer to Matt, leaning into him. His chest is firm and he easily supports me. Keeps me steady. Gabriele’s eyes narrow in a vengeful flash before they return to normal, and I’m using the wordnormalvery loosely. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” he continues, “but someone mentioned that you’re the writer ofOperation Starshipand I had to tell you how much I love it. I’ve watched it three times already and it gets better every time.”
Matt shifts and for a split second, I think he’s about to move away. My stomach drops at the possibility, which is an alarming development in and of itself. I have no idea why, but I’m comfortable as we are. Thankfully, he only adjusts his stance as he holds me more securely. The tips of his fingers grip the waist of my dress ever so slightly and my breath catches.
“I appreciate that,” he calmly replies. “Can I ask who your favorite character is?”
“Oh,senza dubbio, Aldrin. He’s always been my favorite. So unpredictable and so bold.”
“Nice.” Matt’s grip tightens. He pulls me in even closer. “I’m killing him off next season.”
