Chapter 10
Nicole
Despite the fight and fracture, Jaime returned to school after just two days. Sitting on my terrace balcony, I savor a peaceful moment, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air as I gaze out at the sparkling pool and lush rear garden. The sitting area, though small, exudes comfort. The couch is so cozy that it's hard to believe it's meant for the outdoors, and the small glass table is the perfect spot for a cozy, even if lonely, morning breakfast. I breathe in the fresh air and watch the pool's surface ripple at each gust of the morning breeze. It's as if it's inviting me. It's lovely, tranquil, and peaceful... until my phone begins to vibrate.
I gaze at the glowing screen. Annette .
I pick up. "Hey Anne, how's your morning?"
"Good. I've been reading up on the latest gossip about your billionaire bachelor daddy."
I chuckle. "What are you going on about?"
My phone dings with a message.
"Just sent it," Annette says.
I put her on speakerphone to check the message. It's a link to a news article from an online site called The Daily Whisper . The title reads "A Peek Into the Life and Loves of Billionaire Shane Matthews."
"You find it?" she asks excitedly.
"Yeah," I reply.
"What do you think?"
"I haven't read it yet," I tease.
"Well, I have. Did you know he dated Balina Porter?" Annette asks with a hint of excitement in her voice.
"I don't even know who that is. And no, we don't talk about who we've dated."
"Well, you might as well, because everyone else is studying up on just how single he is."
"It's no big deal, Annette," I say, trying to downplay it.
"Sure it isn't," she mocks. "So, are we going to go through this thing or what? I've got all morning, and I can save you some time, seeing as I've already read it."
I exhale deeply, mulling it over.
"Come on, you know you want to," Annette says.
"I've got so many other things I could be doing…"
"Like what?" she challenges. "Jaime's back at school, and you told me you were going to sit on your balcony and sip coffee today. That's what you're doing, right?"
"Yeah," I admit reluctantly.
"Well, you need some 'you' time," Annette adds.
"You mean you need some 'you' time," I clarify.
"Exactly! And this kills two birds with one stone," she jokes.
"Why are you so interested in this?" I question, already suspecting her answer.
"If something happens to you, your billionaire will need someone to pick up the pieces," she says, laughing heartily.
I can't help but laugh too.
"Ugh," I groan. "You're so bad for me. Fine, let's do it."
Annette wastes no time jumping right in.
"Okay, so you really should check out the third paragraph first—that's where things get interesting," Annette says.
I begin reading through the article as I sip my coffee, with Annette narrating to me over the phone. It's the kind of article I've read a million times before, the type I'd usually skim through without a second thought. But today, I'm analyzing every word. The writer lists his likes and dislikes; while they get a few things right, most of the information is misinformed assumptions. The dating section is detailed, mentioning a few famous names, including one I actually recognize. I find myself more intrigued than jealous, and seconds after reading, I'm probing Annette and the internet for information about his exes, shamefully comparing myself to them.
"This feels weird, Annette. Is this too much?" I ask, feeling a pang of guilt.
"Please. It's weird if you don't do it these days. It's what everyone would do. Besides, he's your boss—do you think he hasn't dug into your life and the people around you?"
Her words strike a chord. The thought of Shane finding out about my past, about the people I've dealt with, the things I've seen and stayed silent about, and the things I've done to get here—it terrifies me. How would he and Jaime look at me then?
We spend about an hour going through the article and discussing the relationships described within when Annette decides she is ready to deliver her verdict.
"You're definitely not his usual type. These girls are mostly wildcards, the kinds that grew up way too fast from seeing way too much when they were young. A far stretch from our sweet little Italian farm girl," Annette jokes.
Oh, Annette, if only you knew the truth , I think to myself.
"I think you're different; that's why he likes you."
"Who said he likes me?" I ask.
"I do," Annette responds. "And you like him too. It was the most obvious thing from the time I first met him."
"What? So he's tired of wild, cool, celebrity girls and looking for a farm girl now?"
"Yeah, either he sees something in you that's special enough to change his type, or he's just looking to try his hand at something new for a while. Either way, enjoy it. Even if it's just a fling. Just wait to start getting your hopes up for a future until you're sure which one it is. I hate to say it, but he does have options, and this article just gave him a lot more."
"Wow, that really helps me, Annette," I say, my tone playfully sarcastic.
"I just don't want to see you get hurt. It happens to the best of us. Anyway, I've got lunch soon, need to get ready, but I'll see you this weekend, right?"
"Yeah. Later, Anne."
"Bye, Doll," says Annette before the line goes blank.
It's the first time I can remember Shane and I being home alone together, and for some reason, I find myself nervous to leave my bedroom. I finally make it downstairs around lunchtime to find Shane sitting on a barstool at the kitchen counter, scrolling through his phone as he sips coffee.
I decided to come right out and ask him about the article. Perhaps if I frame it as a joke, he won't think I'm taking it so seriously.
"Shane Matthews is a cunning businessman," I say, approaching him from behind. The line comes directly from the article. I continue. "But he lacks resolve when it comes to dating," I mock, smiling the entire time. "Ohh, burn," I add.
"Ahh, not you, too," he says, smiling. "My phone has been blowing up with people taking digs at me all morning."
I wonder to myself just who these people are, but don't dare to ask; Annette's words have started to stick in my head.
I let it go, heading to the cupboard to retrieve a coffee mug, placing it in Shane's state-of-the-art coffee maker and pressing the espresso button. Shane goes back to his phone, and we enjoy a moment of comfortable silence.
"It's from an interview I did a few months back, before... Claire, Jaime, and you. They wanted someone single and successful, and since I'd broken up with Balina, they had an eye on me. It was actually supposed to be released months ago, but they withheld it, given everything our family was going through..."
He's explaining himself unprovoked, and I secretly like it.
"Shane, you don't need to explain yourself..."
"I know. It's just... I was in a different state of mind then," Shane says. "I've never really taken dating seriously; I'm too involved with work, I guess. So..."
There's more there—I can feel it—and part of me wants to peel back each layer to learn all I can. But the voice in my head tells me to refrain. You know, the more you learn about his past, the more he'll likely want to know about yours, I think to myself.
I imagine having to tell him about Raffaele, the violence, and the things I had to do for the Avvoltoi under his watch. And suddenly, I'm thinking of Giovanni. Where is he?
"Nicole?" Shane calls.
"Sorry," I say, snapping back to the present. "I really need some coffee before I let the day pass any further." Just as the words leave my mouth, the coffee machine dings, and I see clouds of steam wafting from my mug.
"Want to join me?" Shane offers. I'm tempted, but I'd rather not, with Giovanni or Shane's exes on my mind.
"Maybe later," I say. "I think I'll take this one in bed."
Shane gives me a smile and returns to his phone as I ascend the steps.
After a coffee and a quick nap, I finally submit to the in-ground swimming pool beckoning me from the backyard.
I change into my red two-piece swimsuit, head downstairs, and approach the glass doors to the back patio when I see Shane. He's doing laps in the pool, and when he stops to surface for air, all my thoughts freeze on him.
I imagine him close to me, his body pressed up against mine, the taste of his lips, the feel of his arms and muscles wrapped around me. I remember we're home alone, and that if he were to loosen the strings on my bikini and let it fall to the floor, no one would be around to watch. I'm watching his hands as he strokes the water's surface, imagining them slowly caressing my neck, working their way downward as I stroke his chest and do the same. A sensation stirs within me, a tingling warmth, and I realize I've been standing there, watching him through the glass doors, for too long.
The pool will have to wait—I can't be around him like this. I turn and head back to my room.
I'm happy to see Jaime; his smile and school stories always bring me joy and help me forget about the complexity of my predicament. After school, he returns, and we immediately get started on his nature diorama for art class. He's drawn out the whole thing in detail, explaining it to me as we sit at the dining table. But my thoughts are still on Shane.
"Hey, Nicole, are you listening to me?" Jaime shouts, and I realize I'm a million miles away.
"Yes, of course, buddy."
"This is important, Nicole. I need you to focus," Jaime insists.
"Buddy, I promise I'm 100% focused on you." But that's a lie. How can I be, when Shane is all I can think about? I wonder if it's too much. Am I losing myself? Am I falling for him? And if I am, is it a violation of my duty to Jaime?