Chapter 6
Matteo’s apartment occupied the entire top floor of a building a mile from the office. It was sleek, modern, impersonal—a showpiece rather than a home. Elena had never been there. In eighteen months, he had never invited her.
She stood in the center of the living room, trying to take it in. The floor-to-ceiling windows. The city lights glittering like scattered diamonds. The stark, minimalist furniture that looked like it had been chosen by a decorator rather than a person. There were no photographs. No personal effects. Nothing that suggested a human being lived here.
“Not what you expected?”
She turned. Matteo was leaning against the doorframe, his jacket off, his tie loosened. He looked more vulnerable than she had ever seen him. The power had drained out of his posture, leaving something raw and unguarded.
“I don’t know what I expected.”
“Something warmer?”
“Something lived in.”
He looked around the room. A ghost of something—shame? regret?—crossed his face. “I don’t spend much time here. It’s a place to sleep. Nothing more.”
“Where do you spend your time?”
“The office. The gym. The car.” He paused. “I don’t have a life outside of work, Elena. I haven’t for years.”
She walked toward him. The distance between them shrank. “That’s sad.”
“It’s practical. When you’re in my position, you can’t afford distractions.”
“Am I a distraction?”
“You’re the only thing that’s ever made me want to be distracted.”
She stopped in front of him. They were close. Not touching. The air between them crackled with unspoken things.
“Tell me something real,” she said.
“Like what?”
“Tell me why you kept me at a distance. The real reason. Not the protection speech. The real reason.”
He looked at her for a long moment. The city hummed behind them. The silence stretched until she thought he wouldn’t answer.
Then he spoke.
“Because I knew that if I let myself have you, even once, I would never be able to let you go. And that terrifies me.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve never needed anyone. I’ve never wanted anyone. I’ve built my entire life on being self-sufficient, on not needing anyone or anything. My father used to say that needing someone was a bullet you handed them to use against you.” He paused, swallowed. “And then you walked in with your perfect filing system and your coffee orders and the way you say ‘Mr. Duca’ like it’s a challenge, and I—”
He stopped. Ran a hand through his hair. His composure, usually so immaculate, was fraying at the edges.
“I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop wanting you. And that makes me weak.”
“It doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.”
“It makes me dangerous.”
“To who?”
“To you.”
She reached out. Her hand rested on his chest. She could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong beneath the fabric of his shirt. The warmth of his skin seeped through.
“Let me decide what danger I’m willing to face.”
He caught her hand in his. Pressed it against his heart. His eyes were dark, searching.
“Your grandmother,” he said. “When she was sick. I showed up at the hospital because I couldn’t stay away. I told myself it was professional courtesy. I knew it was a lie the moment I said it.”
Elena’s breath caught. “I wondered about that. For months. I replayed it in my head. I told myself it meant nothing. That you were just being a good boss.”
“It meant everything. I sat in the waiting room for three hours. I didn’t go in. I didn’t want to intrude. I just needed to be near you. To know that you were okay.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t know how. Because I didn’t have the words. Because I’m a coward.”
“You’re not a coward.”
“I’m the biggest coward I know. I’ve been running from this for eighteen months. I’ve been hiding behind contracts and quarterly reports and conference calls because facing the truth—facing you—was the most terrifying thing I could imagine.”
She stood on her toes. She kissed him. Soft. Slow. A question and an answer all at once.
“Stop running,” she whispered against his lips.
“Elena—”
“Stop.”
He kissed her back. His hands found her waist. He pulled her against him like a drowning man finding shore.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he said. “I don’t know how to be with someone. I don’t know how to share my life.”
“Then we learn together.”
“What if I fail?”
“Then we fail together.”
He pulled back. Looked at her. His eyes were dark, intense, filled with something she had never seen before. Something raw and unguarded and terrifying.
“I’m in love with you.”
The words hung in the air.
Elena’s heart stopped.
“I’ve been in love with you since the day you interviewed for the position. You walked into my office and you looked me in the eye and you didn’t flinch. Everyone flinches. Everyone. The first time they meet me, they flinch. You didn’t.”
“Matteo—”
“You don’t have to say it back. I’m not saying it because I want something from you. I’m saying it because it’s the truth, and I’m tired of hiding the truth. I’m tired of pretending you don’t matter to me.”
She touched his face. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw. The stubble was rough against her fingertips. He was real. This was real.
“I’m in love with you too.”
He closed his eyes. His forehead dropped to hers. She felt the breath leave his body in a long, shuddering exhale.
“Now what?” he asked.
“Now we figure out what happens next.”
May you like
“Together.”
“Together.”
