CHAPTER 36
The house was still, Outside, the wind whispered against the windows, and the quiet hum of the fridge filled the silence. The only light came from the stove hood — casting a soft, golden pool across the kitchen.
Mia sat at the table, knees tucked up onto the chair, a plate of cookies in front of her and a half-filled mug of warm milk between her hands.
She wore one of Luca’s old hoodies — navy blue and oversized, the sleeves swallowing her hands.
It draped over her like a blanket, hiding everything except her bare legs.
The shorts she wore underneath barely showed. Just a peek of fabric when she shifted. Otherwise, her thighs were soft and exposed under the glow of the kitchen light.
She took a small bite of a cookie.
She wasn’t really hungry, but it gave her something to do. Something to hold while she waited.
Because she was waiting.
She didn’t know where Marcello had gone earlier, or why he left so suddenly after barely touching anything. But she knew he hadn’t eaten. And for some reason, that lingered in her chest like a stubborn ache.
So she made him a plate.
Arranged it carefully, even though all she did was open the package.
Then warmed some milk, stirring in a little too much sugar and a pinch of cinnamon because it felt right.
She didn’t know how to cook. Luca had made sure of that by not letting her anywhere near fire or the oven in all the nineteen years of her life, But this… she could do this.
The minutes stretched thin.
Then — footsteps.
Heavy. Familiar.
Mia sat straighter, heartbeat picking up.
Marcello stepped into the kitchen a moment later, dressed in all black. His shirt clung slightly at the shoulders, his hair slightly mussed like he'd run his fingers through it all day.
His eyes found her instantly.
And stopped.
She blinked, still clutching the mug. Her bare legs were pulled onto the chair, but she suddenly became very aware of them. And of how she probably looked, sitting there in her brother’s hoodie and almost nothing else.
Marcello’s jaw flexed once.
He didn’t say anything right away. Just moved toward the table, dropping his jacket over the back of the chair beside her.
Then, finally — a low, dry murmur:
“Is meeting in the middle of the night our thing now?” he smirked
Mia looked down at the mug. “You didn’t eat, so I wanted to .. uhh .. make sure you had something” she murmured, like it was explanation enough.
"You waited for me?” His eyes flicked to the table the cookies and the mugs.
She hesitated. Then nodded shyly
He reached for the mug.
Lifted it, took a sip, then paused.
“what did you put in here?”
She hesitated “ sugar and... Uhh.. cinnamon, is it too much?”
“No,” he said. “It’s sweet.”
His voice was unreadable but something in the way he said it made her glance sideways at him unsure if he meant the milk, or her.
They sat in silence for a beat.
Mia took another small bite of cookie and brushed a crumb from her lip. She could feel his gaze on her again.
“You always do this?” he asked suddenly.
She looked at him. “Do what?”
“Stay up. Make things for people.”
Her eyes dropped back to her hands. “No. Just…I i...i ” her voice trailed off, she didn't know what to say
" Hey.. it's okay... I'm just messing with you" he smirked..
Silence.
Something shifted in the air, like the room had inhaled and didn’t know how to exhale again.
Marcello looked at her.
And she felt it.
Felt his eyes drift from her flushed cheeks to the curve of her thighs under the hem of the hoodie. His gaze wasn’t obvious or crude but it lingered, and it made her skin prickle under the soft cotton.
Then, after a long second, he said — almost too quietly:
“ fuck !!! Baby .. you're killing me.”
She blinked.
Her cheeks flamed.
“I—I wasn’t trying to—” she started, heart pounding. “ wait ..what, .” she said confused.
Marcello’s lips twitched almost smiling. Almost.
" It's a good thing.." he said reaching forward to pick up a cookie and bit into it without looking away.
" How's that a good thing.." she said still confused.
" Because you're beautiful...." He let himself admit, she still didn't get it but she let it go.
Mia tucked her legs closer, suddenly small beside him.
He finished the cookie slowly, set the rest down, and looked at her again closer now a quiet weight behind his eyes.
“Thank you,” he said.
She looked up at him.
“You’re welcome.”
Marcello sat there his gaze still fixed on her like he was trying to memorize the curve of her lashes, the shape of her mouth and the quiet innocence she carried without even knowing.
Mia shifted, a little self-conscious under the weight of it. Her hand rose to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear but he moved fast before she could.
Gently, his fingers brushed hers away and did it for her.
The back of his hand grazed her cheek, slow, like he was testing the softness of her skin, his fingertips lingered near her ear, warm and still.
Like she was something delicate he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch.
Mia’s breath caught, her lashes fluttering as her eyes lifted to meet his, her heart thudded too hard in her chest as she looked into those eyes
He didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to. Everything was there — in the way his gaze held hers, in the tension coiled in his jaw, in the stillness of his body like he was holding himself back from leaning in.
She swallowed. Her fingers curled against the edge of the chair.
Something fluttered wildly in her stomach, a nervous heat blooming low and strange. Unfamiliar. She clenched her thighs together under the table, small and instinctive, like she could trap the feeling there before it got out of control.
Marcello saw it.
His eyes flicked down. Briefly. Fuck!! Was she trying to run him mad
When his gaze returned to her face, something in it had changed. Darkened. The tension around his mouth tightened like a silent warning to himself.
He leaned just slightly closer. Barely noticeable. But enough that she felt it — his presence filling the space between them, the warmth of him brushing against her skin.
His voice came out low. Rough. Almost hoarse.
“You don’t know what you do to me, baby.”
Mia’s lips parted. She blinked up at him, surprised. Embarrassed. Confused. She didn’t even know what she had done. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth, nervous, and she bit down gently.
Marcello’s reaction was immediate.
He inhaled a hiss sharply, jaw flexing, the muscle ticking like he was clenching down on something hard.
His voice came out straineous like a warning.
“Don’t do that.”
Mia’s brows furrowed, innocent, soft. “What…?”
She tilted her head, lips parting again, the bite already forgotten but Marcello’s eyes were locked there, burning into the place her teeth had just been. He wished it was him who'd made those lips red and swollen ... Fuck... She really wanted to run him mad
“What’s wrong?” she asked, genuinely unaware.
He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at her, his mind frustrated.
Then, finally, he said it — low and almost to himself.
“…So innocent.”
He leaned back slightly in the chair like he was pulling himself away from the edge. His hand ran down his jaw slowly like trying to shake off the gravity of the moment — but it clung to him.
To both of them.
Mia stayed still, her hands resting lightly on her lap now, fingers curled. She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t even know what she was feeling exactly. Just that her chest felt tight, her stomach fluttery, and everything about this moment was making her skin warm from the inside out.
Marcello finally exhaled — a quiet sound, almost like surrender.
And then his voice dropped again, rougher this time, he knew if he'd let her stay his control would snap and he'd do not so innocent things to her...
“Go to bed, Mia.”
Her lashes lifted. “What?”
He turned toward her slightly now, his gaze heavier, sharper, but not unkind.
“Before I forget the promise I made to your brother.”
Silence.
She didn’t move. Couldn’t.
And neither did he.
" Now mia.." his voice came out rougher than he intended and her eyes stung as she scrambled to head out
" Fuck.. baby ... I'm..." But she was gone.. shit!!! And Marcello had never hated himself more than he did now.