Chapter 16
It’s been a week since I’ve seen Emma. Things have been crazy at the restaurant—I need to organize everything, get it ready for when I leave.
Carter called and asked if I’d done or said something to her, because she had an anxiety attack at work.
After that, I tried to talk to her, but she didn’t answer, so I decided to let it go. I have a lot to deal with.
I’m passing by my friend’s company and decide to stop in for a chat.
I have a few minutes free, so I park the car, get out, and take the elevator up to DL’s floor.
When I step off, the first person I see is her.
She’s with a client, standing too close to him, explaining what’s probably some project she’s developing. It bothers me.
“Hello, Mr. Mattia, how are you?”
“Is Carter in his office?”
“Yes, he is. Feel free to go in.” I glance sideways at the bastard with Emma, walk to my friend’s office, and enter without knocking.
“Where do you think you are, Mattia? Did you forget your manners back in your country? I think you’re…”
“Stai zitto[25], idiot.”
“Wait,” he says, looking through his office window. “Now I get it. You saw Emma out there with the new client, right? Well, they’ve been working really well together. I even thought…”
“I’m not interested.”
“Okay, I’ll stop.” The bastard raises his hands, smiling. He knows he got to me. “Weren’t you the one who said it would be just one night? So why all this jealousy?”
“I stopped by to talk to you, but I’m leaving now. I’ve wasted too much time here. I shouldn’t have even come.” I’m not even going to bother responding to this idiot’s sarcasm.
“Arrivederci.” He waves at me with a cocky smile.
As I leave, I see that Emma and the so-called “new client” are still discussing the project. I walk straight to the elevator and go. I need to focus on my work and get back to my country as soon as possible. This ragazza is making me more confused every day, and it’s driving me pazzo[26].
I spend the whole day with her tormenting my thoughts. “Fesso[27],” I curse myself silently. That’s what I am—a foolish idiot. But I confess, I miss the dannazione[28], so I decide to leave a few minutes early and wait for her in the company parking lot. I’m leaning against her car when I hear her.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“Get in.” I open the door of my car, which is parked next to hers. She looks at me and doesn’t argue, just gets in. I close it behind her. “Put on your seatbelt, please.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“My apartment, of course.”
“I’m not going to sleep with you, Mattia.”
I don’t respond. I start the car and pull out into New York traffic, which is a nightmare at this hour. The drive is quiet, even though it takes a while. As soon as we arrive at my place, she walks in and sits on the couch.
“Do you want something to drink? Water, juice, wine?”
“I just want to know why you brought me here.” I approach her and caress her face.
“I missed you.”
I grip the back of her neck, pulling her close, and kiss her—with desire, rage, hunger.
When our tongues meet, it's like every ounce of my energy comes flooding back.
She gives in completely, with passion. I take hold of her firm ass, lift her up, and she wraps her legs around my waist as I carry her to my bedroom, tearing off her clothes along the way.
The sex is incredible. We spend hours in bed, clinging to each other like we're one person.
Being with her makes me feel alive, like I need her just to breathe.
I feel complete by her side. She falls asleep in my arms. I ease out of bed and leave her there, take a shower, make dinner.
As I'm finishing up, she appears with messy hair, wearing one of my shirts. She's beautiful.
“Sit down. I made us dinner—pasta with pesto. Hope you like it.”
“It smells amazing,” she says, sitting down.
“I hope it tastes just as good.” I pour a glass of wine. “Carter called me a few days ago. Said you weren't doing well.” She sets down her fork.
“I don't want to talk about it.”
“It's the same guy who sent the rose, isn't it?”
“Please, Mattia, don't ruin this.”
“Okay, I won't bring it up again. But when you're ready to talk, I'll be here. Now eat.”
We finish dinner and I carry her to the couch, settling down with her in my lap. I run my fingers through her silky hair. I love the smell of it—of all of her. She's quiet, so I break the silence.
“Stay with me tonight.”
“I can't, Mattia. This isn't right. I know the sex is amazing, but that's all it is.”
“I can't offer you more, Emma. We've been over this.”
“I know, and that's why I can't stay.” Could she be catching feelings for me? No, I don't think so.
“All right. Whenever you're ready to go, just say the word.”
Later, I drive her home. I pull up, kill the engine, and turn toward her. She looks at me, unbuckles her seatbelt, leans in, and kisses me. She starts to say something, but I cut her off.
“I need to—”
“This is my last week here, Emma.”
I get straight to the point, and saying those words bothers me more than I expected.
She lifts her head, and I catch a hollow look in her eyes, but she says nothing.
The silence says goodbye for us. When I watch her walk through the gate without looking back, I feel an ache deep down—like dry leaves fallen to the ground, cast aside, bidding farewell to a gentle autumn.