Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
MATEO
I work nonstop for almost twelve hours. Phone calls with other attorneys, emails to developers and businessmen, Zoom calls as I try to close as many deals as I can. Somehow, I still glance toward the bathroom that adjoins my office and the room Vanessa is in at least fifteen times.
I don’t realize how late it is until a soft knock sounds at my door. It’s nearly eight at -
When I open the door, the scent of lavender hits me instantly. Then I see exactly where it’s coming from. A beautiful redhead stands there in light blue scrubs, her hair piled into a messy bun on top of her head.
“Hey,” Vanessa says, breaking the silence.
“Hey. Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late.”
“It’s alright. I actually had a question,” she says. “My shift doesn’t start for a few more hours, but I need to make some food for work. Do you mind if we go to my apartment so I can grab what I prepped?”
“You can use the food I have here.”
“Uh—I don’t want to take your food, Mateo.” Hearing my name on her lips sounds dangerously perfect.
“I promise I never use all of it anyway.”
“Okay. I’ll make you something too, since it looks like you haven’t left this room in hours.”
I give her a soft smile. “I have a few more things to finish, but I shouldn’t be much longer.”
Closing the door, I head over to my desk and sink into my chair.
My mind immediately drifts to those light blue scrubs and how perfect she looked in them.
They fit her body, her curves, like they were made for her.
Seeing her standing there makes me realize how little I’ve ever cared about what a woman was wearing.
I am one and done. I don’t do dates. I don’t do breakfast. I don’t do any of that shit. But with Vanessa, it feels… right. I tell myself it’s because of the marriage contract looming over us, because that explanation is easier to accept.
Forcing my thoughts away from Vanessa, I turn back to my work and push through the last few emails I need to answer. It’s useless. The constant awareness of her out in the kitchen has me hard, the pressure growing uncomfortable against my pants.
About half an hour later, I leave my office. The smell of food hits me instantly, my stomach grumbling in response. I lean against the wall and take her in from behind, the graceful curve of her neck, the soft pull of her hourglass figure as she moves.
Not wanting to disturb her, I step back into my room and quietly shut the door. After a long day, all I want is a beer and the TV on low, but I know tonight isn’t the night for that. I change into jeans and a gray T-shirt, my thoughts drifting the moment I’m alone.
How do I tell her we’re supposed to get married?
Will she hate me?
Will she run?
Or will she not care at all and stay?
After a few minutes, I leave my room and head into the kitchen, once again finding myself focused on her as she cooks with her back to me. She turns, offers me a soft smile, and I can’t help but return it. I step forward, grab a glass, and fill it with water.
“Here.” She turns fully toward me and hands me a plate of pasta.
“Thank you. You didn’t have to—”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s the least I can do since I’m staying at your place.”
“Thanks,” I mumble.
If you only knew why your brother is having you stay here.
I move to the bar and take a seat. She joins me, settling beside me as she starts eating.
“So—when I go to the hospital, what do I tell them when you walk in and sit in the waiting room for hours?” she asks.
“You don’t need to tell them anything,” I reply. “Just do your job. I’ll be around, making sure nothing crazy happens.”
“Great. Nothing crazy,” she says, mimicking my voice.
I snort.
“Did you just snort?”
“Sure,” I say with a chuckle.
We finish the rest of the meal in comfortable silence. When I notice we’re both done, I take her plate and load it into the dishwasher.
Breaking the quiet, I ask, “How early do you want to get to the hospital?”
“I usually get there around ten forty-five, sometimes earlier.”
I glance at the clock and realize it’s almost ten.
“It won’t take us long to get there, but we should get ready to leave in the next twenty minutes,” I say.
She nods. “I’m going to pack up everything I need.” She leaves the kitchen and heads back to her room.
A few minutes later, she comes back in wearing a jacket, a backpack slung over her shoulder. Her hair is pulled into a neat bun at the back of her head. I realize I’ve been staring when she clears her throat.
“Do you have a lunch box or something you can put this in?”
“Uh—do you need to borrow one?” I ask, trying to remember if I even have a lunch box.
“No. Half of this is for you.” She points to the containers on the counter. “You can’t expect me to eat all of that. I probably could if I was really hungry.”
I laugh. “Let me see if I can find something. I usually don’t make lunch. I just buy it.” I head to the hall closet by the entryway, dig around, and pull out an old backpack. “Will this work?” I ask, walking back to her.
She smiles. God, that smile.
“Yep. I put my stuff in my backpack, so it’s fine.”
I step up beside her, and she hands me the containers to pack into my bag. A few seconds pass in silence. Once we’re finished and everything is packed, I reach out, take her arm, and turn her to face me.
“I forgot to properly thank you for all of this.”
I lean down and kiss her, my hand sliding to the back of her neck. She lets out a soft moan. What I expect to be quick turns deeper, slower, until we finally pull apart.
“If that’s how you thank everyone who does something nice for you,” she says, clearly sarcastic, “I might get jealous.”
“You’d get jealous?” I tease.
She goes quiet, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks.
Once everything’s together, we head out of my apartment and down to the underground garage. The walk is silent, my attention caught by how meticulous she is, how everything is packed with care, nothing out of place, right down to the loose strands of red hair she smooths back into her bun.
The drive to the hospital passes in silence. I can see the nerves written across her face.
“Are you nervous about something?” I ask.
“I’m okay, I guess,” she says. “I just don’t want to risk any patients, you know?”
“It’ll be fine. Hospitals aren’t exactly where mafia guys hang out.”
She takes a deep breath and reaches for the door. “I need to get in there. Thanks for driving me.”
“No problem. I’m going to park the car and sit in the waiting room during your shift.”
After she gets out, I park in the garage next to the hospital and make my way to the emergency room.
I take a seat in the waiting area. It isn’t too busy.
A few people sit scattered around, some with arm slings, others on crutches.
A handful wait for updates, eyes fixed on the front desk or the swinging doors leading back to the rooms.
After sitting there for a while, the tense quiet is broken by someone’s voice.
“Are you waiting for an update too?” a young woman asks from a few chairs away. She looks at me with a hopeful expression, like she’s waiting for someone to deliver good news.
“No,” I say. “A friend of mine is a nurse. I am driving her home after her shift.”
It’s the best answer I could come up with without saying too much—or outright lying.
“Oh.”
Before she can say anything else, a doctor approaches her. Whatever he tells her must be good news, because when she turns back around, she’s smiling. She leaves the waiting room with him, disappearing down the hall.
I check the time and realize how late it is. The waiting room is nearly empty now. Five people remain, spread out, either sleeping, staring at their phones, or watching the desk while they wait for updates.
Vanessa sits at the desk with a male nurse. She’s focused, professional.
Every so often, a doctor’s voice cuts through the quiet, calling for nurses to assist, reviewing charts, giving orders, then rushing off again.
I’d been told night shifts in hospitals were quieter, but this feels eerie. The silence is broken when my phone vibrates in my pocket. Thankfully, it wasn’t on loud. I wince when I see Gino’s name on the screen, especially considering I slept with his sister twice in one day.
I step outside into the cold New York night and answer the call.
“Hey, man,” I answer.
“Hey,” he responds. “When her shift is done, can you both drive to the house?”
“Sure,” I answer. “What’s up?”
“We’re going to tell Vanessa about the contract tomorrow, and you two will probably get married in the next few weeks,” he says, a hint of frustration in his tone.
“Okay. Why so fast?”
“Threats are coming in nonstop from the Russians to other Italian families I’ve never even heard of. If she’s married, it’ll calm things down. They won’t be able to say shit.”
“Alright.” I blow out a deep breath.
“I know you’re probably not thinking about it, but I’m going to give you the big brother talk.”
Jesus. I roll my eyes.
“If you piss my sister off or break her heart, I will kill you. I don’t care if you’re my best friend or whatever. She’s my sister. You got it?”
“Got it,” I say. “You’re really taking this big brother thing to the next level, huh?”
“Shut up. I’m not kidding, Teo. I will kill you.”
I chuckle. “Jesus. This is serious. You haven’t called me Teo in years.”
“Just as soon as her shift is over, get over here,” he says, his voice laced with annoyance.
“Okay, Dad.” I grumble back.
“Asshole.”
Before I can respond, he hangs up.
The rest of the shift, I sit on my phone, watching the redhead I can’t get out of my head work and help people.
Whoever pushed her to become a nurse doesn’t matter.
She clearly loves this job. Every time I glance up, I catch her in motion.
She is focused, attentive, and putting care into everything she does, from the food she prepares to the way she listens and takes notes when with patients.
As soon as her shift ends, she walks over to me while I’m half asleep. Before either of us say anything, a huge yawn slips out of me.
“Yeah, I’m driving us back to your apartment.”
“We’re not going to my place. Your brother wants us at his place.”
“Uh—okay. Did he say why?”
“Nope,” I lie.
We walk to the car in silence. I am so exhausted I let her drive. Before we even make it out of the parking lot, I’m out cold, slipping into one of the best dreams of my life.
If everything goes the way it’s supposed to, that dream will come true soon.