Chapter 20 #2
“Speak for yourself,” I retort.
But inside, I feel ridiculously elated. Thrilled that he’s here, that he’s not a drug addict, and that he’s come all the way to my apartment to check in on me.
I look like a mess, but at least I’ve showered and brushed my teeth.
Though I'm back in my pajamas, with my hair not combed, feeling self-conscious, hormonal and vulnerable.
This is not how I want Matteo to see me, but he's here now, uninvited and in my living room, and I'm secretly so happy to see him.
“You can sit down,” I say, walking into my tiny living room and sitting on a couch. I move closer to the end of it, and leave a big gap between us. But he grabs a chair from the kitchen instead, plopping it in the middle of the room before sitting on it.
It leaves me feeling super paranoid that I smell, and I try to take a few discreet sniffs of the air around me.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his brow lifting.
This man never misses a thing. “I'm ...I thought I was going to sneeze.” It’s the first thing that pops into my head.
“Need anything?” he asks. “A tissue? Anything I can get for you?”
That's so sweet. He's so sweet. He has two different sides to him, and this one is my favorite. I love Matteo being so considerate, and especially because I'm not used to the attention, I soak it up like a sponge that's been left out in the sun too long.
“I'm okay, thanks.” I clutch the hot water bottle to me, though it’s lukewarm now, and cover myself with the blanket.
“You sure?” His dark eyes assess me carefully.
“I'm sure. Thanks. I’m not dying.” I smile, because I’m all lit up from inside.
He stands up. “Let me refill your water bottle, at least.” He puts his hand out for it.
“You don't have to do th—”
“I came here to see if you were okay, it's the least I can do.” His hand is still outstretched, so I get up and hand him the water bottle, then follow him into my small kitchen, and watch him go about the task of refilling it.
It feels ... oddly comfortable. And so unbelievable that he's doing this for me, in my kitchen, like he's at home. I like it.
“Did you catch a cold from being in the server room?” he asks, putting the kettle on.
“Uh, no.” I hesitate. “It's not a cold.”
He glances my way, as he empties the water bottle. “No?”
“It's not contagious either.”
“I hope not.”
“Unless you have a pair of ovaries and we’re syncing our cycles.”
Confusion sweeps over his face for a few seconds, then. “Oh ...” His eyes fall to my stomach, then quickly back up again. “Oh. I. See.” He seems a little flustered, then peers at me. “Are you in pain?”
“I have cramps. I get them bad mostly every month.” Though having Matteo here has made me forget about them for now.
He opens his mouth because he doesn’t know what to say. Then, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“It sucks that you women have to go through this and us guys get off so easily.”
“That’s nature and there’s nothing we can do about it.”
The kettle whistles and he fills the empty bottle with a touch of cold water first, before adding the hot water from the kettle. Then he closes it, and holds it out for me to touch. “Is this the right temperature?”
I'm so in awe that I just stare at him for a few seconds. He isn’t making a big deal of it, or looking for praise.
He’s just taking care of me. The realization lands with surprising force.
He’s not supposed to be making me a hot water bottle.
He’s supposed to be at work, running a billion-dollar division.
I touch it. If it were lukewarm, or too hot, it wouldn't matter, it would still be perfect. As it happens, it’s just at the right temperature. “It's perfect.” I grin at him like a soppy teenager who’s just bumped into her secret crush.
But then an unsettling thought pops into my head. What if he’s here because he suspects that I’ve taken a day off work for no obvious reason?
“Did you think I was faking it?” I ask, suddenly timid.
“No. No.” He rushes to reassure me, and I believe him, instantly because he sounds so sincere. “It’s uh …” He swipes a hand over his face, like he does when he’s feeling uneasy.
“It’s uh … what?” I stare at him, not daring to breathe. “Do you regret what happened between us yesterday?”
“Regret? No.”
That’s when I understand. He thinks I’ve gone cold. That I’m having second thoughts. That I was too scared to go into work today. “You think I took the day off because I couldn’t face you?”
He throws his hands up in the air. “I don’t know, Elizabeth. I don’t know. Everything feels so fragile, like it might break at any moment. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what you think.”
“I like you.” I swallow, feeling vulnerable for putting myself on the line. “I like you a lot.”
His eyes light up, a smile curves his lips, and he nods. “That’s … that’s good to know. I like you, too. In fact, I like you a lot.”
My mind drifts somewhere far away, floating through a distant galaxy. His words feel so amazing, so surreal, that I don’t know what to say.
Where do we go from here?
It’s not just that this is fragile, it’s also complicated.
“There’s so much against us,” I murmur to myself, but he hears it.
“Like what? Because I’m your boss?”
“I don’t see you as my boss.”
“Then what?”
“Your father.”
He frowns. “What about him?”
“If he finds out … he won’t like it. It might jeopardize my contract.”
“Nah. That’s not going to happen. You worry too much.”
“You dismiss it so easily, because you can.” I close my mouth, because he’s done something nice for me, and I shouldn’t be snarky.
“Don’t hold back. I sense you had more to say.”
I hug the water bottle to my stomach. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” I say with a cheeky smile.
“You won’t.” He flashes an even bigger smile, like he’s daring me.
“Uh …” I wander back to the couch and sit down. He sits at the other end of it. “You’re … you’re the son of a billionaire tycoon. People like you don’t play by the rules, or worry about breaking them.” I watch his reaction, and see that he’s calm. He’s barely flinched.
“Give me all you got.” He says it gently, and I know he can take it.
I adjust my position, so that I’m facing him.
“People like you don’t care about the consequences of crossing lines.
For me, this contract with Knight Enterprises is my best shot at getting business going forward, once I leave Knight Enterprises.
It proves that I’m legitimate, and good at what I do, especially if Knight Enterprises hired me to work for them. I don’t want anything to ruin that.”
“Fair point,” he says, nodding. “But you got one thing wrong. I do worry about the consequences of crossing lines.”
I shift and slide my legs under me, hugging the water bottle to my stomach. I wonder if he’s now going to tell me that we can’t kiss anymore.
He inches closer, and closer until he and I are sitting together. “Anything more I can do to help?”
I relax, feeling relieved about what he didn’t say. “No, thank you. You’ve done enough to cheer me up.”
Now that I have him here, next to me, in my apartment, on my couch, I want us to stay like this. He puts his arm around my shoulder, and I shift myself so that I’m snuggled up against him like a cat.
This feels … so right.
My body moulds to his, fitting perfectly. I lean into him some more, breathing in his scent, savoring the feel of him next to me. “This is nice.”