Chapter 16 Nicola #2
“I don’t know!” she breathed out, her voice tight.
“It started as nothing. Just fake. Just PR to help Alexander’s image, and mine by default.
But then he started kissing me like he meant it.
And then he started meaning things. He says things that make me feel so…
seen. And safe. And it scares the hell out of me. ”
I reached for her hands, taking them into mine, grounding us both. “Love is terrifying,” I agreed, “But it’s also rare. And it’s not even a question that Alexander loves you back. The way he looks at you, Luce—like you’re the sun and he’s just trying to bask in the light.”
Her eyes widened. “He does?”
“It’s fucking precious,” I muttered. “And that’s coming from me. I’m basically allergic to feelings according to your brother.”
That earned a small laugh from her. A win.
“About that,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
I groaned and leaned back in the chair. “In my defense, I’m still new at this whole ‘having girlfriends’ thing, and he is your brother. And we’re talking about you right now, remember?” I tried.
“Nice try. You’re avoiding, I’m deflecting. We’re both disasters.”
“What a pair we make, huh?” I said with a huff, smiling despite myself. She squeezed my hand this time.
“You deserve to be loved, you know. And to love again,” Lucia said, squeezing my hand back.
“I think I know that,” I said quietly, “Logically, I know it. But my head and heart feel like they’re still at war.”
She nodded along in agreement, “It’s hard for me to trust myself too...after everything. But with Alexander, I feel…safe. It’s worth it with the right person.”
“That’s a big deal,” I murmured.
She exhaled like she’d been holding it in for weeks. “And Gianna loves him.”
“Of course she does. He’s been showing up for her since day one. I heard about you two long before I met you.”
Lucia bit her lip, but her eyes glinted with something soft. “Okay, back to you. Are you sleeping with my brother?”
I groaned, dropping my face into my hands. “Jesus. You just dive right in, huh?”
“Nic,” she dragged out, tilting her head. “You went from loathing him to acting almost nice. You don’t even snap at him anymore.”
“I do snap at him!” I argued.
“Not like you used to. I know you.”
I lifted my hands in surrender. “Okay. Fine. He’s still annoying, but yeah…we are.”
Lucia gasped. “I knew it! Alex and I had a bet going.”
“You did not,” I laughed despite myself, “Who won?”
She grinned. “Me. Obviously. When did it start?”
“The gala,” I admitted, tugging a pillow into my lap like it might shield me.
Lucia whistled. “That was weeks ago. Are you two…dating?”
I froze. The word sounded so heavy. Like a tether I wasn’t sure I could hold.
“Um. No?” It came out as more of a question. “It’s not like that.”
Lucia’s brow lifted. “You haven’t dated anyone since Nathaniel.”
“Exactly. After that shitshow? I swore off anything serious. Relationships aren’t for me. Too messy. Too much pain. I can’t do it again.”
“But this thing with Matteo…”
“It’s just fun. We’ve called a truce for vacation. We enjoy ourselves, then we go back to normal.”
Lucia studied me, too perceptive for her own good. “And that’s what you want?”
“Yes,” I said quickly. Too quickly. “He’s fun. It’s fun. It doesn’t mean anything.”
But the words felt sour in my mouth. Because it didn’t feel meaningless. It felt warm. Safe. Easy and impossible all at once.
It felt like more.
And that terrified me most of all.
The suite was quiet, save for the hum of the sea breeze whispering through the cracked balcony doors. I sat at the little bistro table on the balcony, nursing my coffee as I replayed Lucia’s words over and over again in my head.
You deserve to be loved too.
I stirred my spoon in slow circles, watching the cream swirl until it disappeared.
I didn’t know what to do with that kind of statement. What did “deserving love” even mean? It wasn’t like you won a reward for surviving enough heartbreaks. If it were, maybe I’d believe I’d earned it.
So, here I was— trying not to think about how good it felt to fall asleep with Matteo this whole vacation.
The front door creaked open. Footsteps echoed through the airy villa, light and familiar.
“Back from your daily punishment ritual?” I called, glancing up as Matteo walked in. His T-shirt clung to his abs in a way that should be illegal, and he had two paper bags balanced in one arm like some kind of smug, sexy delivery boy.
“You say ‘punishment,’ I say ‘endorphin high,’” he smirked, kicking the door shut behind him. “Brought you something.”
He sat the bags on the counter and pulled out two croissants—one chocolate, one almond—and a flaky sfogliatella, my favorite. My stomach growled like a traitor.
“About time,” I said, pretending not to be touched.
Matteo only grinned. “You’re welcome.”
He leaned in close, brushing a kiss across my forehead before I could react.
My breath caught.
And just like that, he was gone—sauntering down the hallway toward the bathroom, whistling under his breath, towel draped over his shoulder.
I sat frozen, croissant halfway to my mouth.
The kiss shouldn’t have meant anything. It was just a forehead. Harmless. Friendly. Soft.
But somehow, that made it worse.
Because there was something so tender about it—the easy way he did it, like it was a reflex. Like I was his to kiss.
My usual reaction to that kind of intimacy was to bolt—to tear it all down before it could unravel me. But instead…I felt warm.
Like maybe I didn’t hate it.
Like maybe I wanted it again.
God, I groaned and shoved half the croissant in my mouth. I needed to clear my head.
I came into this vacation to unwind, and we made a deal. A truce. It was just fun. No feelings. It wasn’t my fault he was being soft and golden and deliciously Matteo.
He wasn’t my forever. That’s not who I was.
I didn’t do forever.
So I would stick to the original agreement. Keep it light, no feelings.
I took another bite of pastry and tried to convince myself that I believed it. Then I stood and walked with determination to the bathroom, where the shower was running.
Time to enjoy my damn vacation.
I knocked once, more for drama than necessity, and pushed the door open.
Matteo’s head whipped around from behind the glass shower door. Water glided down the line of his back, glistening against golden skin and defined muscle. His eyes went wide when he saw me, like I was the last thing he expected and the only thing he wanted.
I leaned against the frame, arms crossed, and pretended my heart wasn’t hammering against my ribs.
I reached for the hem of my tank top, dragging it up over my head, slow enough to catch the way his gaze sharpened. Like he was watching something sacred. Or sinful. Or both.
The tank top fell to the floor with a soft whisper. I shimmied out of my sleep shorts next, standing there in nothing but lace and a rising pulse.
Matteo said nothing, but his breathing changed—deeper now. Hungrier.
I hooked my thumbs under the waistband of my panties, holding his gaze as I slid them down.
His jaw ticked. His hand curled slightly against the fogged glass door like he was physically restraining himself from opening it and pulling me in.
The tension coiled between us like a living thing.
I crossed the rest of the space without breaking eye contact and opened the door, stepping into the warm cascade of water and right into the gravity of his body.
My skin sparked as the steam surrounded us, his chest rising and falling, eyes locked on mine like I was both a threat and a promise.
“Good morning,” I murmured, lips curving.
Matteo grinned. “Best damn morning of my life.”