8. Arianna
CHAPTER EIGHT
ARIANNA
F inally alone in the Vitales’ guest bedroom, the events of the day hit me like a tsunami—violent and unexpected.
My hands trembled as I turned on the shower, the sound of running water anything but soothing. I reached for the zipper of my dress and pulled it down, its echo grating on my fragile nerves. It fell to the floor, pooling like a lake around my feet. I kicked off my shoes, rolling my ankles after a long day on my feet, then took in my reflection in the mirror, my dainty lace bra and panties so at odds with my current mental state.
There wasn’t a single bruise or scar on my body, yet every muscle in me ached.
Too exhausted to remove the rest, I stepped into the shower, closed my eyes as the water cascaded down my body, and finally opened my mind up to the disturbing images rattling me to my bones. Screams. Blood. Gun.
Pressing my back against the cold tile, I slid down to the shower floor and pulled my knees to my chest. A soundless sob gripped my throat as I rocked back and forth.
“Ari?” A voice reached me through the fog in my head and I looked up, finding Matteo standing in his suit and polished loafers. A stark contrast to my current mess.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” My teeth chattered. “You shouldn’t be here.”
He stepped into the shower, fully clothed, and sat next to me. He draped an arm over my shoulders, his suit drenched, and pulled me into him.
“Why not?” There were so many reasons, but I couldn’t think of a single one right now. Because I needed him. No, not him . I just needed someone, and Hannah wasn’t here. “You can talk to me, Ari,” he said, the rough edge of his voice warming me instantly.
“It’s nothing,” I murmured, intent on resisting the emotions flooding me.
For several heartbeats, there was only the sound of running water as his eyes pinned me with that look.
“Don’t push me away, Ari,” he finally said. “You’re hurting, and I want to help you.”
I shook my head, a constrictive ball forming at the base of my throat. Finally, I relented. “I—I can’t shake it off. I keep seeing those dead girls. Hearing screams and seeing blood—” My voice trailed off.
He tightened his grip, the wet fabric of his suit heavy against me. He tucked me in so my head was under his chin, the roughness of his stubbled cheek soothing. I soaked it in, needing his strength.
“It’s stupid, I know,” I murmured.
“It’s not stupid. You’ve witnessed something traumatic and came face-to-face with a killer. That leaves a mark.”
“I don’t see you freaking out.”
“It wasn’t me staring down the barrel of a gun today.”
“Technically you did. And you’re a killer too, but that… doesn’t freak me out.”
“Let’s not get lost in the technicalities.”
“I haven’t had a chance to check on Francesca. Is she alright?”
The vibration in his chest as he chuckled infused me with a strange kind of calm. He shifted us so he could cup my face, then brushed droplets of water from my cheeks with his thumb.
“I checked on her. She’s sound asleep with a smile on her face. I’m more worried about you.”
I blinked water off my lashes. “Don’t be.”
“But I am, so let me take care of you.”
“Hannah won’t be happy…” His expression darkened. I didn’t know why I said it, but the words were out in the open and there was no retracting them. “I meant?—”
“I know what you meant, Ari,” he stated matter-of-factly. “But Hannah and I never were and never will be.” He let out a sardonic breath while he studied me with a disappointed look in his eyes. “Was it Hannah I kissed all those years ago?”
I laid my head back on his chest, the wet material of his suit against my cheek.
“We agreed to never talk about that,” I reminded him, although it was a good distraction.
“Not true. You threatened to tell your dad and get him to beat me up,” he said, humor lacing his tone.
I scoffed. “As if your dad would have ever allowed that.”
“Maybe, but then you also offered to bake me cookies. Remember?”
I sighed wistfully. “I do. It’s a good stress reliever.”
“Want to go bake now?”
“And wake up the whole house? No, thank you.” I barely convinced Mom to let me sleep alone tonight. “Besides, I baked earlier. I’m sure there are crumbs left over.”
“Even those were wolfed down. Maybe we can have some gelato?” he suggested, smiling boyishly. Matteo loved ice cream as much as I loved my Nutella. “You know how much I love it.”
“I do. Why do you think I learned to make it from scratch?” I admitted, distracted by images flipping through my mind.
“I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be. I hated seeing you sad after your nonno—” I didn’t like reminding him of his loss, but he didn’t seem to mind that I brought him up. “Well, I thought it’d make you happy.”
“It did. Very much. Your gelato got me through many tough moments.”
“That and the spiaggia , right?” I teased softly. Matteo loved the beach and ice cream more than any average human being, and I loved that about him.
Matteo pressed his lips to my forehead. “See, Ari? You know me so well.”
Silence followed, both of us lost in our thoughts.
After what seemed like forever, Matteo said quietly, “I saw how you protected Francesca today.” Wait, how did he—oh. Of course there were cameras in the library. I sighed, feeling his eyes on me. His fingers gently stroked the pulse point on my throat, and then his lips brushed against my forehead. “Thank you.”
“I should be thanking you, Matteo,” I said in a quivering voice. “You saved us all.”
“Maybe, but you bought me time.”
Then, to my surprise, Matteo reached for the shampoo and began lathering my hair. Still sitting in my bra and panties, I let him go through the motion and tensed every time his fingers got close to the clasp of my bra. But he never attempted to take it off.
His touch was gentle yet firm, like he’d washed a woman’s hair a million times.
He finished rinsing my conditioner and reached for the shower gel.
I stopped him when he dragged the washcloth’s soft material over my arms.
“I’d better do it.” I stood and grabbed it from him. “You should probably get out of those wet clothes.”
He flashed me one of his sultry smiles. “Are you suggesting I get naked, Ari?”
I rolled my eyes, hoping he wouldn’t notice my cheeks reddening. “Definitely not.”
“Your loss,” he mused, his eyes gleaming playfully. He rose to his full height, his towering frame shielding me from the now-lukewarm stream of water.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to wash you?”
Why did that sound so… seductive?
“Yes,” I clipped, even though I wasn’t. I thought being alone was the answer, but now I wasn’t so sure. A distraction would be nice tonight.
He stepped out of the shower.
“I’m going to get changed into something dry,” he said as he kicked off his shoes and then started to strip, discarding his clothes effortlessly while I found a random spot on the tiles to focus on. Unfortunately, my peripheral vision worked all too well.
I glanced at him, trying my hardest not to gawk at his muscles or make eye contact as I rasped a shaky, “O-okay. Good night.”
He stilled, silence filling the space between us.
“Eager to get rid of me, huh?” My eyes lifted to his, warmth slowly overtaking the chill of the day. Unable to find my voice, I just shook my head. “Cat got your tongue, Ari?” he mused.
“No. I’ve just never seen you so… naked,” I admitted, my cheeks heating again. My eyes fell to the tattoo over his left ribs. Roman numerals that I couldn’t decipher from here.
“I’m hardly naked. I still have my briefs on, but if they bother you?—”
“They don’t,” I cut him off. There was no chance in hell that I’d ever admit to him that I’d never seen a boy—a man—naked. I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “It’s like you’re wearing a bathing suit.” More or less .
He gave me a knowing smirk, and I frowned at the strange sensation overtaking me. I’d seen Matteo charm many girls, but it’d never worked on me before. What was happening?
I gave my head a subtle shake.
I’d known Matteo most of my life, but this side of him was new. So was the tension that filled the bathroom as we stared at each other, electricity crackling between us.
As though we were locked in a trance, pulled by a magnetic force that neither one of us could control, he took a step forward, and so did I. At the edge of the shower, water washing over me and Matteo just out of reach, the anticipation licked at my skin.
Unsettling heat bloomed in the pit of my stomach, and I knew with every second that we prolonged this, I’d be trapped under his influence.
I stared, eyes wide, waiting for… something.
I reached my fingers out, tracing his tattoo. His muscles strained and flexed, but he didn’t pull away.
“What does it mean?” I breathed out.
“It’s a date in Roman numerals.” It wasn’t much of an answer, but I didn’t point that out. Instead, I caressed it lightly, enjoying the smoothness of his warm skin. “Do you want to know what date?”
I held my breath and then nodded.
“The date of our first kiss.” My eyes widened and my mouth parted in surprise as his admission crashed down on me. “Do you want me to kiss you again, Ari?”
My head moved of its own accord, nodding a little bit too eagerly.
“Then use your words,” he murmured, brushing his nose against mine. “Ask me… Beg me to kiss you, and I’ll do it.”
My eyes narrowed, every fiber of my being rebelling at the thought. So I did the first thing that came to mind and nudged him away.
“I’ll beg when hell freezes over.”
Studying me, he smiled, but he didn’t say anything else as he reached to turn off the shower. He wrapped a towel around me, lifted me up in his arms, and carried me out of the bathroom.
“I’ll be back to check on you,” he said softly, setting me on the bed before heading to the door. He stopped with a hand on the knob and turned to me, and I quickly averted my gaze from the muscles shifting at his back. “And, Ari?”
“Yes?”
“I promise you, hell will freeze over.” My breath hitched, and I stared dumbly at him. “Sweet dreams.”
Despite his lingering warning, it wasn’t long before the ghosts of the day slowly withered away, and I drifted off to sleep.