14. Matteo
14
MATTEO
T he bathroom door shut behind Esmé, and I took a breath. What the hell just happened?
I was about to take a shower in my incredibly sexy boss’s apartment—and all because I took a detour by the gallery on my run. Had I hoped she’d be here, working on something downstairs? Yes. But when I heard shouts from above, an invisible fist had gripped my chest.
The last thing I expected to find was her holding a rolling pin, looking absolutely incredible. Her chestnut hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, making my chest pulse. But if anyone walked in and saw me here—in her bathroom, holding a towel and about to strip off—things would look suspicious.
Nobody would believe I was only here to help with her pasta.
I shook my head and peeled off my T-shirt, humming a tune. Looking around, everything was neat and clean—organised—just like Esmé.
The tiles were uniform and white with a subtle pink lily detail. She’d lined up matching pink flowers on the shelf in little vases. The bottles on the side of the bath were arranged in height order. I lifted the corners of my lips. I kept my bottles in the shower, and mostly on their sides.
I opened the cupboard over the sink and picked up a scent bottle, lifting it to my nose. It was the same perfume she’d worn on the chairlift, and again in the booth at the bar when we’d been pressed close together. A subtle mix of summer and musk.
I caught myself in the mirror and huffed a tiny laugh, shaking my head. I was supposed to be in Turin with Antonio, going over the final plans for the chalet. Not smelling my boss’s perfume and wondering where she applied it.
Things were almost ready for our business launch. Though late in the snow season, there was still plenty of powder up on the glaciers. I should be locking in plans for our first guests and helicopter shuttles. Instead, I was standing half naked in Esmé’s bathroom about to take a shower. I put the bottle down on the counter.
A faint knock at the door broke my thoughts.
“Are you decent?”
“That depends on your definition.”
“Matteo,” she said, my name rolling off her tongue. I liked the way it sounded—smooth, and a little husky. Like burnt caramel. Should I tease her? Being sassy wasn’t entirely professional, but her blushes and the tiny eye rolls she gave were adorable.
“I’m decent,” I said.
“May I come in?”
I gripped the handle and pulled the door open. Esmé’s gaze shot straight to my chest and her eyes widened. Her throat bobbed and warmth spread across my skin. After a long beat, she looked away and held out a neatly folded pile of clothes.
“I think these might work.”
I took the items, running my gaze over the stack. “So, you were serious about the sequin ban? I thought you were joking. ”
Her lips curled into a smile. “Take your shower, Matteo. I’m going to organise dessert.”
She started to close the door, but I stopped her, my hand catching the edge. “Hang on. Did you make the dessert yourself?”
She tipped her chin a little, a defiant look in her eyes. “No. I ordered it from the local patisserie.”
I nodded. “Good. After your dough debacle, it’s probably for the best.”
Her mouth hung open, and she scowled.
“A little privacy, please,” I said, grinning as if butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth.
She stared at me, her eyes flashing with irritation, before she pushed the door closed with a solid bang.
My gut fizzled. I needed to be careful. The last thing I wanted was to upset her—quite the opposite. I couldn’t afford to go back to my grandfather with a bad report card.
Even though I hadn’t originally planned on working with Esmé, I cared what she thought of me and right now, I found it hard to focus on anything else.
No. I’d take my shower, re-make her dough, and get out of her hair. Stop trying to make her blush. There were other things needing my attention—things that didn’t involve my beautiful boss.