Chapter 21
Felix
Iwas on edge about seeing Tessa again. Would she be pissed that I’d slipped out without a word this morning?
The thought irritated me almost as much as it unsettled me.
Christ, I sounded pathetic. I was Felix Marchioni—men crossed the street to avoid me—yet here I was, second-guessing myself over a girl.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
I told myself it didn’t matter, that I didn’t give a damn what she thought of me. But the truth bled through anyway, no matter how hard I tried to shove it back down. Tessa had a way of making me second-guess myself, of stirring up feelings I had no business carrying.
She wasn’t supposed to matter. She wasn’t supposed to be anything more than my maid. Yet here she was, occupying half my thoughts, crawling under my skin, and making it impossible to focus on anything else.
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to shove my thoughts back into place. With the other, I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel, counting each beat in a feeble attempt to steady myself. Focus. Control. Discipline. That was all I had, and all I could hold onto.
Yet even as I forced my mind onto schedules, deadlines, and numbers, she crept in between each thought.
Her name, her touch, the way she had looked at me last night—it all lingered, unwanted and relentless.
I hated how little power I had over it, how easily she could unravel the carefully constructed walls I had built around myself.
The thoughts only grew louder as I neared the brownstone. Hopefully she’s still asleep. I didn’t want to face her, didn’t want to confront the unfamiliar pull she had on me, or the feelings I wasn’t ready to name.
But as I reached the steps, I noticed something: The front door stood ajar.
My chest tightened, and a cold, sharp edge cut through my chest. She ran.
The idea wasn’t just frustrating—it was infuriating, unacceptable.
No one slipped away from me. Thoughts raced through my mind, dark and possessive: what if she thought she could leave?
What if she tried to hide? The consequences flashed before me, ruthless and immediate.
I shoved the car door open and stalked up the steps, every nerve on fire, every sense screaming alert. The entryway was silent, empty, but my imagination didn’t wait for proof. Every shadow could be her, every creak a lie.
“She can try,” I growled to myself, voice barely more than a rumble. “But running won’t save her.”
A flicker of candlelight spilled from the room down the hall. I moved toward it with slow, deliberate steps, every muscle coiled, senses sharp.
My mind raced through possibilities. Is it her, or some idiot squatter who broke in while she was gone? The thought didn’t calm me; it made the hunt more dangerous, more necessary. Whoever it was hadn’t expected me, and they weren’t walking away.
Step by step, I closed the distance, eyes locked on the glow, every motion precise, every thought focused. Soon, I’d know.
And then I saw her.
Tessa sat there in her underwear, looking utterly miserable. Sweat glistened on her skin, slick and warm, and the sight of her sent a strong pull through me, part protectiveness, part possession. She wasn’t supposed to be like this, exposed and untended, yet here she was.
I stepped closer, deliberate and slow, letting my gaze trace her form, memorizing every line. Every inch of her drew a tightening through my chest, a hunger I couldn’t deny.
I shoved the flicker of relief aside, replacing it with irritation sharp enough to taste.
“Why the hell is the front door open?” I growled, voice low and dangerous, eyes narrowing as I pinned her with my stare.
“The power is out on the whole block,” she said, wiping away the sweat on her forehead. “It’s a hundred degrees outside.”
“And you just… opened the door?” I hissed, teeth clenched, eyes dark as I stepped closer. “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened? Do you know what type of people are out there?”
“No more dangerous than the neighborhood I grew up in,” she said, voice tight but defiant, brushing a strand of hair from her damp forehead.
I muttered under my breath, more to myself than to her, “I’ll need to upgrade the security system… add a backup in case the power fails again.”
“I’m still here, aren’t I?” she said, motioning to herself. “I didn’t run away.”
But then I forced myself to breathe, slow and deliberate. She was here. She was safe. That was what mattered. The rest—the anger, the threat of what could’ve happened—had to wait. I couldn’t lose control now, not with her in the room, not like this.
I let my eyes linger on her for a moment longer, taking in the curve of her shoulders, the way the candlelight kissed her skin. Just watching her, memorizing, letting the heat between us simmer without acting on it.
Step by step, I closed the distance, letting her feel the weight of me before I even touched her. My hand hovered near her arm, tracing the air just above her skin, letting her know I was here, and that I wouldn’t be leaving.
We sat there in silence for a while, the candlelight flickering across her skin and casting long shadows on the walls. Finally, I had to break it.
“It’s fucking dark in here,” I said, voice low but steady, trying to anchor myself in something ordinary, something real.
She shrugged. “My dad always forgot to pay the electricity bill when I was younger. I’m used to it.”
I couldn’t stand that piece of shit. My jaw tightened at the thought of him, and a piercing sense of protectiveness flared. But I didn’t care about the debt anymore. I just wanted to make sure she never had to go back there, never had to face that life again.
The thought lingered in the back of my mind, quiet but insistent: I needed to keep her safe.
Instead I said, “You sound very resourceful.”
“Oh yeah,” she said, nudging me in the side with her elbow. “I may not be a tough mafia man, but I get by.”
I let a faint smile tug at the corner of my lips, shaking my head slightly. Resourceful, she said. Yet even in her teasing, there was a spark of steel, a stubbornness I couldn’t ignore.
And as I watched her, I realized something else—she didn’t seem mad I’d left this morning. That caught me off guard, a strange relief threading through me.
Or was she just pretending? Ugh.
I shook my head, forcing the thought away. Stop analyzing. Stop overthinking. She was here. Safe. That’s what mattered. Everything else could wait.
“I didn’t realize how reliant on AC I had become,” she snorted, letting out a small laugh that was half amusement, half exhaustion.
I raised an eyebrow, smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. “Yeah? And here I thought you were supposed to be tough.”
She nudged me lightly with her elbow again, rolling her eyes. “I am tough. I just like being comfortable too, okay?”
I let a low chuckle escape, letting the warmth of the moment settle between us. “Guess I’ll just have to keep you here forever. There was no AC back at your place.”
She shot me a sidelong glance, a faint flush rising to her cheeks. “Yeah… well, lucky me, I guess.”
Her tone was light, but the weight of our arrangement lingered in the silence. I carefully slid closer, letting my presence fill the space between us without pressing too hard. My hand hovered near her arm for a moment before settling lightly on her hand, warm and grounding.
She didn’t flinch. Instead, her eyes softened, and for a second, the tension in her shoulders eased. I felt a quiet pull tighten in my chest—something protective, something more—but I stayed still, letting her adjust to my nearness, letting her know without words that she wasn’t alone.