Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
JADE
“In a different life, we would have been more than this. We would have created instead of destroyed.” - Clara Foss, Painted Inferno
Shit, shit, shit.
I don’t know why I agreed to Matteo coming over. My entire apartment looks like a tornado ripped through it.
My trash isn’t overflowing, but the sink is full of dishes.
I quickly walk over, grabbing the different plates and dishes and arrange them all in the dishwasher.
Being on a deadline has a way of making me hunker down in my apartment like a hobbit.
The only thing I’ve been keeping up on is showering—thank God—and making sure my clothes are washed.
I do a quick walkthrough, straightening everything up, yet leaving all my work materials strewn across the dining room table. Since I’ve been fully immersed in the book I’m writing, I moved all my materials to the dining room table to free up the island counter in the kitchen.
It’s a disaster, but it’s an organized one. I know exactly where everything I need is. It’s fine, Matteo will get over it. Or maybe he won’t even notice.
I catch sight of myself in the mirror along the wall near the dining room table.
Never mind the disaster on the table. I’m the real disaster here.
My footsteps are rushed as I head down the hallway, slipping into my bedroom to change into something a bit more acceptable. I switch out my wrinkled sweatsuit for a pair of leggings and a sweater.
I walk into the bathroom, brushing my hair and pulling it back into a messy bun on top of my head. I opt for a quick layer of light makeup, just to cover the dark circles under my eyes and to bring a bit of color back into my cheeks.
I’m not on a tight deadline, so there’s really no excuse for my appearance other than not wanting to lose the momentum I have.
The inspiration lately has been like an overflowing well. It’s all thanks to Matteo really. He’s providing the muse; I’m just chasing after it.
The flirty banter between us keeps my mind stimulated. The conversation never feels flat or dry. Every time my phone goes off and I see his name, my heart does this stupid little stumble.
I’m supposed to see my cardiologist next week. Perhaps it’s an electrical issue and not related to Matteo Ford at all.
I finish wiping down the counters after sweeping the floors. I drag a match along the side of the box, watching the flame come to life before I hold it to the wick of my candle.
And then my phone vibrates. Crap, how did thirty minutes go by so fast?
Matteo
Honey, I’m home.
Jade
Coming.
Matteo
Damn, Sunny. You couldn’t even wait for me?
I choke on air. My eyes widen, water welling along my bottom eyelids as I cough loudly, struggling to catch my breath.
Matteo
Just kidding. Hurry up, though. Food’s gonna get cold.
Heat spreads across my face and I ignore the tingling sensation between my legs. I need to get laid or something by someone who isn’t Matteo Ford.
Slipping my feet from my slippers and into a pair of sneakers, I briskly walk out of my apartment, hopping on the elevator to the lobby on the first floor. It’s empty downstairs as I step out of the car and head to the front door.
Matteo stands on the other side of the glass, not noticing me at first. My eyes roam over his tousled hair, dropping down to his chest, then his torso before bouncing back to his face.
He’s wearing a pair of loose-fitting jeans, a white shirt, and a dark bomber jacket. I can’t tell if it’s navy blue or black in the lighting outside. He turns his head, a plastic take-out bag in his hand and his gaze collides with mine.
Steel gray eyes stare back at me, trailing along my neck, deliberately slow before flickering back to my face. The corners of his mouth twitch.
I push the door, holding it open for him. “Hey.” The word slips out on an exhale, sounding breathy. My throat tightens.
Matteo passes by me, that familiar bold, woodsy scent wafting toward me, and his lips lift into a smirk. “Hey, Sunny.”
The door shuts behind him, but he stops right in front of me. The space between us is almost nonexistent. I’m acutely aware of how tall he is, standing this close. I tip my head back, my neck extending as I look up at him.
“Hey.”
You already said that, Jade.
Channel your inner Candy Stone energy.
He chuckles softly, a small flicker of heat in his eyes as he tilts his head to the side. “Are you hungry?”
My stomach growls at the mention. “Starving.”
“Good.” His voice is low and hoarse. “I hope you like baked ziti,” he winks.
“Look at you. You listen so well.”
His eyebrows lift, just a fraction of an inch. The movement is so subtle, if I weren’t hyperaware of him, I wouldn’t have noticed. “You have no idea just how good of a listener I can be.”
Heat creeps up my neck again while simultaneously spreading across the pit of my stomach. I need to get him up to my apartment… to eat, and then send him on his way before I end up doing something I’ll likely regret.
“Come on.” My voice catches in my throat and I clear it, stepping around him as I turn away and head toward the elevator. “I’m on the seventh floor.”
Matteo steps into the car, both of us occupying opposite corners of the elevator as the doors slide shut. Tension follows us into the space, heavy and thick. I shift my weight on my feet, tucking hair behind my ears to keep my hands busy.
I chance a glance at Matteo and his eyes are already on me, body turning to face me as he leans against the wall. My mouth is immediately dry. I lick my lips to try to bring some moisture back.
“You’re staring.”
His gaze draws down to my lips. “You’re standing awfully close.”
I swallow hard, warmth trailing down my spine. “The elevator’s small.”
“It is, isn’t it?” His voice drops lower, the sound sultry as his eyes slowly search mine.
My body hums as electricity dances in the air. He’s close enough I could touch him without even straightening my arm. He’s in my space, he’s in my head, and fuck me, I think I like it.
My lips part, a shallow breath escaping me. The muscles in my legs contract as I start to shift my weight in his direction. The elevator dings, knocking me back to my senses as it comes to a stop at my floor. My eyes widen, his darken, and the doors slide open.
I need to get my shit together. We agreed that nothing like this would happen.
“This is my floor,” I half whisper, as if he doesn’t already know.
“After you,” he chuckles, sweeping his arm toward the hall. Without another word, I exit the cab and he follows, walking to my door adjacent from the elevator shaft.
Matteo stops just behind me, his body close enough that I can feel his warmth, but not close enough to touch me. I quickly unlock my door, pushing it open with haste and head inside.
He follows after, kicking his shoes off at the door as I let it fall shut behind us.
“Two rules.”
His eyes flicker to mine.
“No touching me, and no reading any of my notes.”
He rolls his lips between his teeth, biting down on his smirk as his head bobs. “Yes, ma’am.” He swipes his tongue along his bottom lip, his eyes still on mine.
I force myself to turn away from him as I slip my feet from my shoes and back into my slippers, and head into the apartment.
Matteo meets me at the island in the center of the kitchen. He looks over at the dining room table, curiously eyeing my notebooks and post-it’s from where he’s standing. He doesn’t move any closer to try and read them.
Relief washes over me as he sets the bag on the counter and starts pulling containers out.
“Baked ziti for you,” he says softly, setting it down in front of me. I grab two glasses of water and slide onto one of the barstools.
“Thank you.” I lift my chin as he pulls out another container. “What’d you get?”
“Chicken masala,” he says, grabbing the stool next to me and sliding it to the side of the island so we’re sitting adjacent instead of side by side. “Do you want some?”
“Oh, no, that’s yours. Thank you, though.”
Matteo shrugs. “If you change your mind, you can have some.”
“You have siblings, don’t you?” A smile pulls on my lips as he nods his head. “Sharing comes with the territory.”
He lets out a breath, shaking his head. “I have two younger sisters, Elena and Bella. I swear, nothing belonged to me during my teenage years.”
“How old are they?”
“Elena’s 21 and Bella’s 19.” He takes a bite of his food, chewing and swallowing before offering any more information. “I was seven when Elena was born, but thankfully the age gap made us closer. I always felt like I needed to look out for the two of them.”
My eyes widen. “Oh, wow. That is a pretty significant gap. I’m glad it made you closer, rather than the opposite.”
Matteo bobs his head. “Yeah. Thankfully the two of them didn’t have to go the first five years of their life with their parents not together, so their childhood was a bit different.” He pauses, his face draining of color and he abruptly switches gears. “What about you? Any brothers or sisters?”
I want to press rewind and ask him what he means by that. His parents had him and then weren’t together?
“No,” I say after a second. “I’m an only child.” I pause, piercing some of the noodles with my fork. “My parents live in England, so they’re not really around.”
Matteo’s eyebrows tug downward. “I’m sorry. It must be hard not seeing them often.”
I shrug my shoulders dismissively, ignoring the tightening in my chest. “It’s fine. They moved six years ago, so it’s not anything new. They moved for my father’s job. We’re not close… never really were”
He’s quiet, his eyes roaming over my face like he’s trying to get a read on me. My face remains stoic, giving nothing away. Not that there’s really much to give away. I’m indifferent about them at this point in my life. I’ve always felt like a bit of an outsider with my family.