Chapter 23 Nicola
NICOLA
“Let’s leave,” he whispered.
And just like that, my brain short-circuited.
His voice was low, rough from all the kissing and the yelling and probably years of ruining hearts without even trying. His thumb brushed along my jaw like he couldn’t help himself. Like touching me had become a reflex.
“My room still has those chocolates you hoard,” he added, voice barely audible over the thump of the club music. “I’ve got better ideas for us than dancing in a club.”
I flushed at his words. Heated memories played in my mind like a slideshow. “Is that where the rest of your metaphors are stored? Oh God, will you start reading me poems or something?”
His grin was devastating. And my heart fluttered at the way his eyes creased.
It was so easy with him, to still be silly but heated all at the same time.
I watched his jaw flex as his gaze took me in under the low light of the club.
I wanted to memorize the moment, this version of him, to store it away just for me.
Matteo leaned in, eyes darkening, and kissed just below my ear—soft, possessive, maddening. “Sure, Princess. Among other things.”
And that was it.
I grabbed his hand and muttered, “Lead the way, DeLuca. Before I start making good decisions.”
We didn’t even make it ten feet outside the elevator in the hotel before his hand was back on my waist, pulling me close like I was something fragile and breakable and his all at once.
I had half a mind to roll my eyes at the drama of it all, but then he kissed me like he meant it again, and I forgot every smart thing I’d ever known.
A blur of lips and hands and me trying to figure out when the hell I became the kind of person who felt like if I wasn’t kissing this man I would simply perish.
The second the door to his hotel room clicked shut behind us, I stopped pretending I was in control.
His jacket came off first, mine shortly after. I kicked off my heels with something that was more desperation than grace and nearly tripped trying to step out of them.
“Your fault if I die,” I muttered.
“I’d give you CPR,” he whispered, tugging me toward him. “Very thorough CPR.”
We stumbled backward toward the bed like two people who had no idea what they were doing and also knew exactly what they were doing.
My fingers found the hem of his shirt and yanked. He didn’t even pause to help—just let me strip it off like I had a vendetta against fabric. Which, honestly, I might’ve.
Every touch. Every press of skin against skin.
Every sigh. It felt like fire and clarity and danger and everything I swore I didn’t want.
The way my heart rattled in my chest at the way he looked at me.
Wanting to touch him, to be touched by him.
Having his hand on my back or secretly on my thigh under a table.
I craved it now; I think I might crave it forever.
Matteo was laying on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers he didn’t have.
His other hand was curled loosely around mine, resting between us on the sheets.
Our fingers were barely touching, like even in this post-everything haze, we were still testing the weight of the moment.
I stared at the ceiling too, pretending like I wasn’t turning this into a whole thing in my head.
But I was.
God, I so was.
I swallowed, voice low. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” he said, like it was the easiest thing in the world.
It wasn’t.
“Do you think…” I paused, trying to untangle the mess in my chest. “Do you think we could really, actually do this? Like…a serious thing?”
Matteo turned toward me, propping himself up on one elbow. “You mean you and me?”
“No, I mean you and Carlos,” I deadpanned, trying to cover the shake in my voice. “Obviously you and me.”
He smiled, but it was small. Quiet. “I think about it all the time.”
That undid something in me.
Because I did too.
And it scared the shit out of me.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I said, suddenly feeling very naked despite the sheet wrapped around me. “It’s been a long time since I let someone in. I’m not exactly the poster child for trust.”
Matteo didn’t say anything, which only made the knot in my throat tighter. “My ex—Nate—he didn’t just cheat. He made me feel crazy. Like I was overreacting. Like I wasn’t enough. He lied straight to my face for months, and I still stayed. I hated who I was by the end of it.”
Matteo’s brow furrowed, his thumb brushing mine. “I’m sorry, Nic.”
“I just…I rebuilt a whole life around not needing anyone. And then you show up, all charming and annoyingly happy, and suddenly I’m breaking every rule I made for myself.”
“I’m not trying to break your rules,” he said gently. “I’m just trying to be someone you can trust.”
“But what if I can’t?” I whispered. “What if I never fully can? What if something’s just…broken in me now?”
Matteo was quiet for a long beat.
Then he said, “You’re not the only one who doesn’t trust people, you know.”
I blinked. “You?”
He gave a hollow laugh. “Yeah. Shocking, right? Matteo DeLuca, everybody’s favorite golden boy, all charm and jokes and fan selfies. You’d think I handed my trust out like paddock passes.”
“You kind of do,” I said, but my voice was softer now. More careful.
He looked at me then—really looked at me.
“I let people think they know me. Everyone thinks I’m this open book.
The funny guy. The ‘heart on his sleeve’ type.
I make them laugh, keep it light, stay in character.
But honestly? I don’t think most people really know me.
Not anymore. I wear a mask I learned to wear to survive in this world. ”
Something in my chest cracked wide open at that. Tears pricked behind my eyes, because damn it, why did vulnerability have to feel like this? Like you’re both falling and flying at the same time?
He sighed, “Somewhere along the way, I got so good at playing the version of myself the world wanted, I forgot what the real me even looks like. What I like. What I need. I don’t even know if I know how to just…be.”
I reached for his hand.
“You don’t have to be anyone with me,” I said, quietly but firmly. “Not the charming media-trained DeLuca. Not the grinning golden boy. Just you.”
“And you don’t have to pretend you’re not scared,” he said, gently brushing a piece of hair from my face, “Because it is scary, giving yourself to your partner, being in a relationship. That’s a big deal and a level of trust I don’t take lightly.
So we take it slow, we listen to each other, we talk out whatever needs to be talked out.
Because I don’t really give a shit about labels, Nic.
Call us whatever you want, whatever feels less scary, but I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not interested in ever spending my time, energy, or trust on anyone else other than you.
You are who I want. You are who I fucking need. We take it as slow as you need.”
I looked at him, my heart pounding loud in my chest. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because being with you is easy. You make life brighter and more saturated, like everything before was some sort of duller version. Because I find myself wanting to be around you more times than not. I want to watch you put on your makeup, I want to memorize the shades of red you wear. And I don’t say this to overwhelm you.
I just—I love being with you and around you.
And frankly, I’m not interested in a life where you’re not in it.
So we take it slow, we do everything by your rules.
I’m in this Nic. I want to be with you in whatever way you’ll have me. ”
Matteo’s voice was so soft, my insides were all knotted and messy, listening to him be so open and raw.
It was one of the things I admired so much about Matteo.
He was so aware of everything. Things I couldn’t even fully explain.
Everything about being in a relationship again made me want to run, like giant flashing lights were saying ‘wrong way’. But at the same time, I wanted to try.
“Okay,” I whispered.
“Okay?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “I want to try. I mean, I’m fucking terrified, but I unfortunately also find myself wanting to be around you at most times.” I shot him a smirk. “But you’ll have to be patient with me…space to be messy and all that.”
His smile was like the sun rising. “God, I’m gonna ruin so many press photos by staring at you now.”
I laughed. Really laughed. Because somehow, even in the middle of a terrifying conversation about trust and heartbreak, he made me feel safe.
The morning came into the room in a burst of sunshine, the wind blowing a curtain open rhythmically.
I cracked my eyes open and let myself wake up to the street noises below us.
The sun cast along Matteo’s back. He was waking up slowly as well, a smile taking over before he yawned. All golden and sun-kissed skin.
“Good morning, gorgeous,” he said, his voice scratchy and deep from being unused. I had missed that last week. Having it back now was something I didn’t want to let go of anytime soon. I would just always wake up next to him. That seemed feasible.
A text pinged on my phone, and I knew it before I even saw my father’s name on my screen.
Dad:
Let’s meet this morning, 9:00 a.m. Bring DeLuca.
I sighed and turned the phone to Matteo.
“I feel like a teenager about to get called into the principal’s office,” he said, scratching his head.
“I mean, same same but different.”
“You think he’ll be mad?” he asked.
“Could go either way, but he’s not really the mad type. A very calm man actually. Other than if the World Cup is on.”
“Makes sense,” Matteo nodded.
I decided the best walk of shame would be to Lucia’s instead of to my hotel that my parents were at. So I walked down the hall, counting down the numbers till I hit Room 414 and knocked. The door creaked open, a half-asleep Lucia blinked back at me.