Chapter 5
The dinner was a disaster.
Elena apologized to Mark. He was gracious, confused, clearly unsettled by the encounter. She told him she needed to go home. He offered to drive her. She said she’d take a cab. He didn’t argue.
The ride home was a blur of streetlights and rain. Elena stared out the window and saw nothing. Her mind was a hurricane.
She let herself into her apartment. The silence was oppressive. She kicked off her heels, dropped her clutch on the counter, and stood in the middle of her living room in her green dress, shaking.
Her phone buzzed. Sophia.
She didn’t answer.
It buzzed again. Dominic.
She stared at the name on the screen. She almost didn’t answer. But something made her swipe.
“Yes?”
“Miss Donovan. I’m sorry to call you at this hour.”
“Dominic. What’s wrong?”
A pause. Dominic Rossi never paused.
“Mr. Duca is in his office. He’s been there since the restaurant. He hasn’t left. He hasn’t eaten. He’s dismissed everyone except me.”
“I don’t know what you want me to do about that.”
“Miss Donovan. I’ve been with Mr. Duca for twelve years. I have never seen him like this. Not after the Rizzo deal. Not after the Port Authority investigation. Never.”
She closed her eyes. “Dominic—”
“He’s not going to call you. He’s not going to reach out. He’s going to sit in that office and let this destroy him from the inside.”
“That’s not my problem.”
“It is. You know it is.”
The line went dead.
Elena stood in the dark apartment, the phone cold against her ear. Rain streaked down the windows. The city glittered beyond the glass.
She should stay. She should let him sit in his self-imposed exile. She should protect herself from the disaster that was Matteo Duca.
She grabbed her keys.
The drive to Duca Tower took twenty minutes. The building was mostly dark. The security guard at the front desk looked up, surprised to see her.
“Miss Donovan. I didn’t expect—”
“Is he here?”
“Yes, ma’am. But he said—”
She walked past him to the elevator.
The forty-second floor was silent. The lights were dimmed. She walked down the hallway to his office. The door was closed. Light bled from beneath it.
She didn’t knock.
He was sitting at his desk. His jacket was off. His sleeves were rolled up. His head was in his hands.
He looked up when she entered. His eyes were red-rimmed. His hair was disheveled. He looked like a man who had been through a war.
“Elena.”
“Don’t.”
She walked across the room. She didn’t stop until she was standing in front of his desk.
“Dominic called me.”
“Of course he did.”
“He said you’re destroying yourself.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re lying.”
He looked at her. The mask was gone. Every wall he had built was down.
“I’m not fine,” he said. “I haven’t been fine since the moment you walked into my office.”
“Then stop pretending.”
“I don’t know how.”
She moved around the desk. She stood beside him. He looked up at her, his eyes dark and tired.
“I have spent my entire life,” he said, “building walls. Protecting myself. Never letting anyone close enough to hurt me. My father taught me that weakness gets you killed. My mother taught me that love is a weapon people use against you.”
“Matteo.”
“I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to let someone in. I don’t know how to be the man you deserve.”
She reached out. Her hand touched his cheek. He closed his eyes.
“Then learn,” she said.
He turned his head. His lips brushed her palm.
“Tell me what you want,” he said. “Tell me what you need from me.”
“I need you to stop running.”
“I’m not running.”
“You are. You’ve been running since the moment we met. You keep me at a distance because you’re terrified of what happens if you don’t.”
He opened his eyes. “I’m terrified of what happens to you if I don’t.”
“Let me decide what risks I’m willing to take.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“Then show me.”
He stood. They were close now. Close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body.
“If I do this,” he said, “if I let you in—there’s no going back. You understand that? My world is not a place you can visit and leave. Once you’re in, you’re in.”
“I’ve been in for eighteen months, Matteo. You just didn’t see it.”
His hand came up. His fingers traced the line of her jaw.
“Tell me you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
“Tell me you’re not afraid.”
“I’m terrified.”
He almost smiled. “Good. So am I.”
He kissed her.
It was soft at first. Gentle. Questioning. Then his hand slid into her hair, and the kiss deepened, and she felt every wall she had built around herself come crashing down.
When they broke apart, she was breathless.
“We can’t do this here,” she said.
“Then where?”
“Your place.”
May you like
He nodded. He grabbed his jacket. He took her hand.
They didn’t look back.
