Chapter 15
I open my eyes and find myself lying on Mattia's chest, his arm wrapped around my waist, our legs tangled together.
There's a peace in his arms, different from what I felt in my last relationship.
I wonder why I'm thinking about that right now.
I start to move, to get up, and feel him tighten his grip.
“Where do you think you're going? Stay here, just a little longer.”
“Good morning. We need to get up—it's late and I'm hungry,” I say, my voice still thick with sleep.
“Not before I satisfy my hunger for you.”
He rolls on top of me, kissing me, and I can't resist this Italian. Damn, soon he'll be leaving and I'll still be here. I need to be careful with my feelings. We have delicious sex, just like we did the other times last night.
I take a shower and slip on one of his shirts. The smell of coffee draws me toward the kitchen. Mattia has his back to me, making pancakes and juice—it smells amazing. He turns around, sets two plates and glasses on the counter, and says:
“Come eat. I need you well fed.” He kisses my cheek and serves me.
“Is that all you think about?”
“When I'm near you, yes. All I can think about is throwing you onto the nearest surface and fucking you until your legs are trembling and you're calling my name as you come.”
I freeze with my fork halfway to my mouth at his words. He leans in and takes the bite right off it, making my mouth water with desire. He notices my reaction, gives me a sly smile, and says:
“Eat, my ragazza.”
We have breakfast, and it's wonderful. No wonder his restaurants are so successful—he cooks incredibly well. When we finish eating, he drives me home, parks in front of my place, and turns to face me.
“Emma, I loved our night, our sex, and I want to make one thing clear between us.” Here we go with the relationship talk, I think to myself. “I can't offer you anything beyond this, and I hope you understand.” I don't know why, but that bothers me somehow.
“I wasn't expecting more than a hookup from you, Mattia. Our night was great—we have amazing chemistry in bed—but that's it. I don't want to get involved with anyone either, if that makes you feel better. Thanks for the wonderful night and the ride.”
I unbuckle my seatbelt and get out of the car, giving a little wave. I held it together, yes, but I have to admit the conversation left me feeling strange, like I wasn't expecting it. I know I'm nothing to him, and it's not like I want anything either, but rejection still stings.
I arrive at work on Monday with a meeting already scheduled—a client who was at the cocktail party. I'm thrilled that my career is finally gaining momentum. I put a lot of effort into staying current, keeping up with new trends and what's popular. The work is exhausting, but I love what I do.
With the contract signed, I'll finally have something to occupy my mind.
In the middle of the afternoon, someone calls to me from the doorway, saying there's a delivery for me.
I get up from my chair, excited. Could it be from Mattia?
Probably not, but I head over with a smile on my face—who knows?
I greet the delivery guy, sign the slip he hands me, and return to my desk with a small box.
Samantha drags her chair over, just as curious as I am, and asks me to open it.
So I do—and what I find isn't what I expected.
A ring—my engagement ring, from when I was engaged—and a note with the following message:
“I think I'll have to remind you who you really belong to. I saw you getting out of a car Saturday morning, so remember: if you're not mine, you won't be anyone else's.”
I throw the box across the room. It's happening all over again.
He's never going to leave me alone. He'll always be my torment.
Samantha jumps up, grabs a glass of water, and hands it to me.
In this moment, I feel pathetic for letting him get to me like this, but suddenly a strange sensation washes over me and I start to cry.
I can't breathe. I get up from my chair and run out.
Carter appears at our office door right then and calls out to me, but I don't hear him.
I rush past him with my friend right behind me.
I just shake my head at him, go to the bathroom, and lock myself inside.
I've never felt anything like this before.
I try to control my breathing—it's coming fast—and gradually I calm down.
My friend knocks on the door, calling my name.
After a few minutes, I feel better, so I open it and step out.
She just hugs me, and I needed that right then.
Carter comes to the door to find out what happened.
I've never talked about my previous relationship—only Samantha knows the story, because we became close friends and she's the one who helped me get away from him.
“What happened, Emma? I've never seen you like this. Are you okay? Do you need anything?”
“Thank you, Carter. I'm better now.”
“Do you want to talk? Did something happen here?”
“Personal matter,” I say. “It wasn’t anything at work, don’t worry.”
“I’m here if you want to talk,” he says and leaves. When we’re alone, Sam speaks up.
“Girl, you had an anxiety attack. Has this happened before?”
“Never, girl, that’s why I panicked. I couldn’t breathe—it was horrible.”
“I know. We need to file a police report, girl. I’ll go with you.”
“I can’t involve the police, girl, you know that.” Now that I’m getting recognized, I can’t get caught up in any drama. I need to protect my reputation.
“He’s doing it all over again, Emma, and we can’t let that happen.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not involving the police.”
“All right, if that’s what you want, but just know I’m always here.”
She hugs me and I break down once more. Everything was going so well. Why did he have to come back to torment me? Will I ever be happy? With that thought, I call it a day. I don’t have the headspace to work anymore, so I head home.