Chapter Nine
Erin
The car stops in front of a renowned hotel.
Lily had sent a driver to pick me up for her charity gala for animal welfare and I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that she is now like royalty in this city.
I slide out of the car and smooth out the folds of the strapless violet silk dress the girls had helped me pick out on Wednesday.
I can’t suppress a gasp when I step into the grand reception hall.
Holy hell, this place is stunning !
Extravagant chandeliers hang from the high ceiling, their golden glow reflecting on the dark marble floors giving the place an elegant and warm atmosphere. The air hums with hushed voices and soft music, and I instantly feel self-conscious from all the luxury.
I look around and spot Lily at the far side of the room.
She looks radiant in her pale cream gown and she is talking animatedly to a circle of well-dressed guests.
Damiano is right beside her, never letting his eyes drift away from her face, his hand splayed possessively over her lower back.
I make my way through the crowd, careful not to trip in my high strappy heels.
Lily lights up when she sees me and immediately reaches out to pull me into a warm hug.
“You look amazing,” she whispers with a soft smile, before turning back to the group.
“Everyone, this is Erin Skye. We met at vet school and now she is my second sister,” she introduces me, and I smile politely at the usual nods and nice-to-meet-yous.
As it turns out, they are major donors and they are clearly enthralled by Lily.
They hang on her every word, nodding and laughing at her fun stories involving mischievous animals.
I take a small sip of champagne, even though I can’t stand the stuff. I find it too dry and tart. Even the most expensive bottles seem to taste like battery acid. I let the flute linger between my fingers because I don’t know what to do with my hands, already feeling the buzz go to my head.
Lily is in her element, charming every single person in the room.
She is positively glowing tonight, sweet and magnetic, and I feel a surge of pride as I stand beside her.
She usually avoids social gatherings like the plague, but animals ignite a passion so intense in her that she forgets about her shyness.
I let my mind drift in the soft hum of the music, the clinking of glasses and the laughter wafting through the expanse of the ballroom. I keep my smile bright and radiant as I nod along to the conversation, my fingers loosely holding the champagne flute.
And suddenly, in the middle of the glittering lights, the soft murmurs and the easy mood, I feel it—a prickling at the back of my neck. I tense as a shiver runs down my spine. I steal furtive glances over my shoulder to try to pinpoint the source of my uneasiness.
That’s when I see him .
Matteo is standingacross the room, half-hidden in the shadow, still and unblinking as a statue.
His perfectly tailored black suit hugs his frame, emphasizing his broad shoulders and his powerful build.
His dark gaze is locked on me, sharp and steady, and suddenly I feel like a deer trapped in headlights.
My heart stutters from the intensity of his stare and my throat goes dry.
I quickly spin around, embarrassed that I got caught staring at him. Was he really looking at me? Or was he only scanning the room for threats? I try to focus on the ongoing conversation, throwing in a word here, a laugh there, but I am flustered and unsteady from his piercing gaze.
Over the next hour, I grab another flute of champagne from a passing tray and gulp it down to calm my nerves.
Then another. And a fourth. Or was it a sixth?
I’ve lost count. I realize how bad an idea it was when the lightheadedness kicks in and the bubbles start making me a little too…
bubbly. Ha ha, that’s a nice one, Erin .
Even though I try not to, every chance I get, I shoot a glance toward the corner where Matteo stands. And every single time, I find his eyes already on me, hot and steady. My skin is electrified, my body is tingling and every nerve ending is hyperaware of him.
Until I snap.
I straighten my spine, slap on my big girl pants, and march over to where he stands, trying to look confident even if my insides are jelly. He watches me approach, and my steps falter under his heated gaze. But it’s too late to retreat now.
I halt a step away from him and tilt my head back to look him in the eyes. Shit, I forgot how tall he is.
“Wanna dance?” I say, trying to sound casual. Sadly, it comes out way cornier than I intended. I wince internally.
He doesn’t reply, so I lean in and tease, “Come on, big guy, don’t tell me you’re too scared to dance with me.” I waggle my eyebrows. “Everyone needs to loosen up with a dance once in a while, even the grumpiest landlord.”
He is still silent, looking at me with an unreadable expression.
Slightly embarrassed, I laugh softly and shrug a shoulder. “Fine, if you’re going to be stubborn, I’ll have to find another partner to kidnap.”
He finally breaks the silence, voice low and rough. “You’re impossible.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” I wink and grin.
He darts his hand out and grabs my arm. Then he leads me toward the dance floor without a word and pulls me abruptly against him as if to show his irritation.
I let out a surprised squawk when I nearly lose my balance and fall into him.
I manage to steady myself with my hands against his hard chest, then we dance.
The air feels electric, and I can’t help myself but babble on. “So, are you having fun?”
“The best,” he deadpans and I giggle.
“Guess you can be hilarious, but only when I’ve had enough champagne.”
His mouth twitches. Or did I just imagine it?
“Then you’ve clearly had enough.”
“That’s rude.” I gasp with feigned offense. “Are you calling me a drunk?”
“I’m calling you dangerous,” he says quietly.
Huh? I blink in confusion. “Dangerous?”
“To my peace of mind.”
My breath hitches, but I cover it with an eye-roll. “You should’ve thought of that before you agreed to dance with me.”
He doesn’t reply, but he tightens his hand on my waist and pulls me closer. My breath comes out in shallow bursts and my heart is hammering in my chest. We sway in awkward silence for a few beats.
“Still sure you’re having fun?” I murmur when the silence becomes too heavy.
He doesn’t reply immediately, so I go on rambling. “Oh, I forgot that you never have fun, my bad.” I am not sure if his lips twitched again, but except for this small movement, his face remains impassive, his gaze locked on mine.
We keep swaying, our bodies closer now. I can feel the warmth of his hand at my waist, the hard wall of his chest mere inches away from mine, and suddenly I can’t seem to think straight.
“Are you always this talkative?” I tease lightly, remembering that night.
“Only when I try to behave,” he counters, saying the exact same words back.
My pulse stutters and my reason flies out of the window. His eyes drop to my mouth.
There is a beat of silence.
“I’m not a good idea, Skye,” he grits out in a rough voice. “You should stay away from me.”
“And yet…” I murmur, looking up at him, “you’re the one holding me like…this.”
He clenches his jaw and leans down toward me, his breath brushing my ear. “Because I haven’t decided what’s worse, letting go or giving in.”
I shiver, goosebumps rising across my skin. His heat wraps around me like a noose, pulling me in, ensnaring me until I can’t think clearly.
And suddenly it’s all too much. I am tipsy, breathless, and far too attracted to him. So I do the worst thing possible. I rise on tiptoes and press a kiss to his mouth.
Barely a brush. A whisper of skin against skin, our breaths mingling for a heartbeat.
But it is enough to break the spell.
He stiffens like I just hit him.
“Don’t,” he snaps, rearing back. “Don’t ever do that again.”
I blink up at him, stunned. “I… Sorry. I thought—”
“Whatever you thought, you’re wrong,” he cuts in, stepping back, his jaw tight, eyes blazing with fury. “I don’t need complications. Especially not in the form of a spoiled brat playing with fire.”
It stings way more than it should. I swallow the burn in my throat and lift my chin.
“Understood,” I say with the brightest smile I can manage even if my voice is breaking. “I’m sorry I misread you. I won’t be bothering you again.”
And with that I spin on my heels and rush away, heart hammering in my chest, cheeks burning from humiliation.
I can’t breathe. With every passing second, my throat constricts and my ribcage closes tighter around my lungs like a vise.
I can’t see, my vision has narrowed into a tunnel and I stumble blindly through the crowd toward the exit.
In that moment, something inside me snaps.
This is it, Erin, you’re done. Your dignity is worth more than misery.
No matter how unfairly handsome he is, or how good he smells, or how my heart rate spikes when he is near. No matter that for one foolish, drunken second, I thought he looked at me like he might actually want me. I’m done with this infatuation. It is time to move on.
I walk away, head high, stepping over the fragments of my crumbling heart. I smooth out my dress with trembling fingers and force a smile as I weave through the crowd.
He doesn’t want complications? Fine. I won’t be one.
God, I wish I hadn’t given in and kissed him, and most of all, I wish his rejection didn’t sting so much. But now my eyes are open and I can move on from this crush.
I leave the gala on autopilot, my body and mind cold and numb.
I barely remember what I said to Lily. Something about being tired and having a headache.
She gave me a hug, her eyes searching my face, but I didn’t let her look for too long.
She knows me too well not to see the splintered pieces of myself barely held together by sheer will.
The driver opens the car door and I slide into the backseat, grateful for the silence. As the car pulls away, I lean my head against the window, letting the cool glass steady me. The city lights blur past, lulling my mind into a haze. Slowly, my breathing evens out until it is almost normal again.
By the time I make it back to the condo, my body feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. I remove the heels the moment I step in and shut the door behind me. My clutch lands on the kitchen island with a soft thud and I make a beeline for the bathroom.
I wash off the makeup, letting the water sting my eyes.
I take a long shower, the hot water scalding me but I don’t care.
It’s the only thing keeping me from shattering completely.
I brush my teeth, tie my damp hair into a messy knot, and wrap myself in the oversized sweatshirt.
The motions are automatic, familiar, grounding.
Then I sit on the sofa, curl my legs underneath me and stare out at the city lights.
And that’s when the tears come. Slow at first, like the steady drip of raindrops falling from leaves, then heavier, the light drizzle turning into a tropical storm. I let them flow, just for tonight.
Everything comes crashing back, threatening to drown me, the burn of rejection, the sting of humiliation, the ache of wanting someone who made it very clear he doesn’t want me back.
I bury my face in my hands and let myself fall apart. There is no one here to witness it, no one to remind me that I should have known better.
Tomorrow, I will put myself back together.
Tomorrow, I will be Erin again—strong, composed, and blissfully indifferent.
But for tonight…I let my heart shatter.