Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Anya
Iexpected hugging Matteo to send me into a small panic, if I’m being honest. I did it knowing the possibility that it could have a detrimental effect on me. I couldn’t help it. The need to touch him—to embrace the friend who’s come to mean so much to me—was impossible to ignore.
I needed to trust him, and more importantly, trust myself.
I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but I needed to see it for myself.
I needed to know that I wasn’t crazy for seeing something in him.
I had to show my mind that there’s a reason I feel safe with him.
I held his shoulders at the wedding to dance, and he didn’t once move to cross my boundaries.
But that was different. The wedding venue was full of people, full of witnesses who were watching us closely.
When I chose to hug him for the first time, we were completely alone.
Not only were we alone, but I’d only recently began physical contact with my own father.
And I knew that hugging my dad was different than trying the same with Matteo.
My father is a man, yes. But he’s the man who created me.
The man who taught me how to ride a bike and wiped my tears when I would cry.
I might have been able to embrace him sooner, if I wasn’t so scared to be reminded of hands all over my body.
Terrified that I might be thrown back in time to when unwelcome bodies smashed into mine and burned my skin with the memory of their touch.
Hugging Matteo was a leap of faith, one that could have made me crash and burn—but ended up making me soar instead. I wasn’t scared when I put my head on his chest and my arms around his back; I was surrounded by warmth and peace for those few minutes instead.
I felt a strange sort of pride in my success but almost cried when he had to leave so soon after. The only thing that kept me from shedding tears was the knowledge that he would be back.
“Oooo, don’t you look cute for your Matteo,” my aunt says, sauntering into the living room with clicking heels and a smile. Her voice isn’t even laced with teasing as she calls him that. She means it, and I don’t have the heart to correct her again. Or maybe I don’t want to.
“It’s the makeup,” I tell her, trying not to frown. “I didn’t sleep very well. My eyes don’t look tired to you, do they?”
My night’s sleep was fitful at best. I kept rolling around trying to get cozy and clear my mind, but it was impossible.
Not only was I thinking about leaving the house for my impending trip with Matteo, I was constantly replaying the events of the evening.
When I would eventually doze off, I found myself waking up from vivid dreams and repeating the whole process again.
No white noise, meditation, or mental exercise could help me.
I wasn’t anxious, I was consumed.
“You look wonderful,” she replies, sounding surprised by my question. “You look well rested, honestly, solnyshka. If you hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t have guessed that you struggled at all.”
Well, that’s good at least.
“Thanks for agreeing to come with us.” I force a smile, trying to take my mind off my less than restful night. “I don’t think I would be able to leave the house if you didn’t.”
“Because your father wouldn’t let you or because your mind wouldn’t?” Aunt Irina inquires, coming over to sit by my side while we wait for Matteo to show up.
“Both, I think.”
“Well, then I’m happy to be of assistance.” She beams. “If it was only your father, I believe I could simply bully him into backing off. But if it’s your mind I’m putting at ease by being by your side, I shall not leave it until you ask me to.”
My chest warms with familiar caring. “Thank you, tetya.”
“Anytime, my sweet girl.”
Talking with my aunt makes the process of waiting go by faster and with less time spent in my head.
It’s an easy distraction, sharing conversation with her.
I think we could probably get lost in our own little world for at least twenty minutes more if we weren’t interrupted.
The noise of the front door opening and the distant sound of a car engine has us up and off the couch, rushing outside to meet Matteo.
Neither of us is surprised to see that my father has gotten there before us.
We find him giving orders to the man he’s assigned to be our driver, and the team of guards who will follow behind us but maintain a distance when we’re actually viewing the properties.
They’re not meant to spy on us, but rather make sure we’re safe as we travel.
Despite the fact that I know my father spent over an hour last night grilling these men, it takes several minutes of Aunt Irina trying to shoo him away for him to actually listen.
I can’t be too upset about it, though. I always imagined that the next time I tried to leave the house, he’d glue himself to my side and insist on coming along.
“I want to greet you both, but maybe we should get in the car and drive away before he can change his mind,” Matteo jokes, pointing a thumb at the big blacked-out SUV meant for the three of us.
He looks even more handsome than yesterday, with his blue eyes sparkling and his short, soft brown hair full of bouncing waves.
He looks refreshed and well rested, likely because he’s finally been able to have a moment to himself.
I don’t imagine he was given the privacy to take a shower after his flight, let alone relax before coming to see me—not with my uncle invading his space.
“Good thinking,” my aunt agrees, hooking her arm in mine. “Let’s make a run for it, solnyshka.”
I don’t need to be told twice, letting her tug me into the vehicle without protest. So far, no devastating anxiety has made its way into my system. It’s as if my aunt’s proximity and my comfort with Matteo are providing me with the strength and stability I need to remain calm.
Well, calm enough.
I’m still nervous, but I’ll take nerves over stomach curdling anxiety any day.
Matteo takes the front passenger seat while my aunt and I share the back. As our driver begins to guide us away from the house, my friend spins around to face me. “Hey, you have your inhaler, right?”
Surprise makes my lips pop open, and it takes me a moment to start nodding. “Yes, I have one.”
“And I have a spare,” Aunt Irina chimes, shaking her small designer purse. “You said the house we’re viewing is close by?”
Matteo dips his head in confirmation. “Yeah, less than ten minutes. You might not have seen it around though. Half of the time is just going up the driveway. It’s surrounded by trees, too. Which is good for privacy.”
“Privacy?” My aunt lifts a brow at him.
“For my family,” Matteo rushes to clarify, eyes wide. “If we bought it. Like, it would be good for them. Not for us, right now. I—I’m just gonna stop talking now.” He spins back around in his seat and my aunt giggles.
“Don’t tease him,” I mumble, nudging her softly with my elbow.
She pats my hand, smiling wistfully. “It was too easy, I couldn’t help it.”
The rest of the ride goes by painfully quiet.
I think it has more to do with the fact that there’s a driver than Aunt Irina’s teasing, though.
It’s always odd to talk around people as if they aren’t there, even if they aren’t meant to be spying.
The man driving us around is one of my father’s most trusted soldiers, and he’s loyal to his Pakhan.
He might report everything we say, even if it’s all entirely inconsequential.
We don’t have to wait any longer to get away from him as we make it to our destination. He’s been instructed to wait inside wherever we go, but not to follow us around like a guard dog.
“Whoa,” I whisper, looking out the car window as we pull up to the huge structure.
It looks more like a castle than a mansion, covered in stone accents and perfectly structured paneling.
There’s a large fountain in the middle of the circular driveway, an ostentatious accent to an already luxurious home.
“Whoa is right,” Aunt Irina agrees, maneuvering herself so that her head is next to mine and she can see the view as well. “Depending on the inside, if the Morettis don’t snatch this one up, I might have to tell Lev to get it for us. I’d feel like a princess in that castle.”
“I was thinking it looked like a castle too,” I admit, sharing a smile with her. “Replace the water fountain with a moat and it might as well be.”
“Terribly unsafe to have a moat with little ones running around,” Matteo quips as the driver parks. He rounds the car and opens my door so fast that I don’t have an opportunity to do it myself.
“What a gentleman,” Aunt Irina coos, nudging me softly to get out so that she can follow.
“Basic manners do not a gentleman make,” Matteo says in a sort of mockingly posh accent. “Though I try my best in the company of ladies.”
“All you need is a suit of armor and a horse to match that accent of yours, Lord Moretti,” Irina plays along, making herself giggle.
“Well, if I’m to be Lord Moretti, then you two must be princesses rather than ladies. I assure you, you’re both much higher in station than I am in this fictional world of ours,” he jests, dipping into a short bow. “At your service.”
“Show us your castle, then,” I play along, not bold enough to change my accent.
And show us the castle he does. He takes us room by room while we all muse about pros and cons.
It’s a huge space with potential, but I’m not sure that he’s sold on it.
Aunt Irina not so subtly gives us some time alone by saying that she wants to check around the outside for any structural imperfections.
Our driver stays stationed at the door, but she ensures him that a spare guard will follow her around as she looks.