Lindsay
Matteo stares straight ahead in silence, but the anger rolling off his skin roars.
We only drive for a couple more minutes before the car slows down in front of a black gate. After confirming his identity, it’s swung open.
The driveway stretches out head, long and curved. On either side, the grounds unfold in careful symmetry, manicured hedges cut with surgical precision.
My gaze lifts as the house comes into view. It’s incredible. Clean architectural lines meet stone and glass, sharp edges softened by warm lighting.
The car slows as we approach the front.
The entrance rises ahead, wide steps leading up to oak double doors. I swallow, forcing my gaze away. Even his house is intimidating, expansive enough to drown in. Exactly like him.
The car comes to a smooth stop, the engine cutting with a soft hum that leaves the space feeling suddenly, unnaturally still. The silence between us is sharp, telling.
I’m still coming to terms with our earlier conversation. With his promise.
He said he would back off. I don’t know why that has my chest aching more than anything else.
“Do you need an invitation? Get down, Lindsay,” he says without looking at me.
I huff out a breath at his tone. And yet, I’m a little glad for it. Angry Matteo I can handle. It’s the sweet one that hugs me and tells me he’ll keep me safe that bothers me. That’s the one that threatens to break down all my walls.
I open the car door and he follows suit. We climb up the steps to the door, which opens before we reach it.
There’s a man standing on the other side, older, composed, and dressed in a sharp black suit.
“Good evening, sir,” he greets, stepping forward.
Matteo barely slows, “This is Lindsay. Our guest. Show her to her room and get her everything she needs.”
The man inclines his head. “Of course, sir.”
That’s it. No explanation. He doesn’t stick around to introduce me. His instructions are a dismissal and then he’s walking off into the house. My lips thin and I try to tamp down the anger brewing beneath me.
The butler I’m guessing, shifts his attention to me. He’s polite, measured.
“Pleased to meet you, Madam Beaumont. My name is Allesandro,” he states in slightly accented English. “If you’ll follow me.”
“Alright,” I say.
The house is large, immaculate and surprisingly warm. It feels like a home despite its size. Everything in it is in place, controlled but there’s also a softness and signs of life that has me arching an eyebrow.
A part of me itches to explore the walls. A man’s home is a direct insight into who he is. And despite everything, I still want to figure Matteo out.
But then I remember I drew a line. I need to snuff out my curiosity. I need to be just as cold as he’s pretending to be.
We turn down a quieter corridor.
“This will be your room, miss,” Allesandro says.
He opens a door, stepping aside to let me enter. The room is large and elegant, the lighting dim and warm. There’s a large king-size bed in the middle, teeming with blankets and pillows.
It’s so similar to my bed back home, I briefly wonder if it was chosen for me with that in mind. It even has a canopy above it.
I gasp when I notice a bookshelf tucked neatly into the corner. There’s a mix of hardcovers and paperbacks. Some of them worn, others newer. I step closer without thinking, my fingers brushing lightly along the spines.
There are several titles. A few I recognize. Novels, textbooks. I catch sight of some books on law as well. Then there’s a small corner of the shelf, empty and devoid of any books.
Allesandro must notice me staring at the empty space with a frown.
“Mr. Vitale uses this room at times. He keeps his old books in here. He instructed that we clear up a section for you for the books you brought along,” he explains. “I could assist you in unpacking if you’d like.”
My chest tightens slightly.
“No, that’s fine. Thank you,” I murmur.
My gaze shifts to a desk by the window, clean but not empty. A laptop sits there, closed, a sleek understated thing that looks brand new. I stand there for a moment, taking it all in. The room the details, the quiet, deliberate thought behind it.
The realization that he chose this room specifically for me sits strangely in my chest. I exhale slowly, trying and failing not to read too much into his actions. He’s a quiet enigma wrapped into a mysterious and dark persona.
“Would you like dinner to be brought up for you, ma’am?”
“I would just like to turn in for bed, if that’s okay?”
I feel the exhaustion of the day bleed through every inch of me. My brain is so tired and I know without a doubt I need to shut it off, lest I grow crazy.
Allesandro leaves and then I’m left all alone.
Tomorrow, I’ll deal with it all. My father, the fact that I’m living in the house of a man I have conflicted feelings for. A man that just might hate me after the display today. I think about the way his expression fell and the chill that leaked into his eyes earlier by the side of the road.
He hasn’t looked at me like that in a while. I’d just started to inch past his walls too. And now I’ve ruined all the progress we made.
I find a pair of pajamas and change into them before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. A quick text to Kim for a status update on my father has me breathing easier. She assures me that he’s fine, asleep and stable.
I lie back on the bed without thinking, staring up at the ceiling for a moment that stretches. Soon enough, my eyes start to close. The last thing I see is the look on Matteo’s face when I told him I hate him.
The last thing I feel is a twinge of pain. He’s so close. We’re right underneath the same roof and yet, we’ve never felt farther apart.
It’s all my fault. I could have had it all. His kisses that make the world stop. His dominant care and soft expressions that seem like they’re crafted for me alone.
Instead, I threw it all away.
Morning comes with a clearer head and balanced emotions. The events of yesterday take a moment to settle into place. For a second, I don’t remember where I am.
Then it hits me that I’m in Matteo’s house. In a bedroom he picked just for me apparently.
I remember our fight yesterday. The agreement we both came to.
The reality of it all sits heavy in my chest. I push it all aside. For now.
Instead of calling for breakfast, I decide to give myself a little tour, so I leave the room. I’m restless and curious about my new environment. The halls are empty, and everything in the house is still.
Too still.
I’d been expecting guards and constant movement considering who Matteo is. And sure, I can feel eyes on me. I’m almost sure he’s got at least someone surveilling me. But they’re out of sight, quiet. No one stops me as I walk down the halls.
My footsteps echo softly as I move, taking turns without really thinking about where I’m going. Eventually, the space opens. Sunlight spills in and I step outside.
A pool stretches out in front of me, water still and glassy in the early morning light. Something tight coils in my chest at the sight of it. I’ve never much liked any huge body of water. It’s open and unpredictable.
The surface looks calm, and it’s clear. Deceiving. Everything about it is meant to lull you into a false sense of safety. Then, when you least expect it, the world tilts and you’re struggling to breathe.
My arms are folded, keeping a careful distance from the edge. My gaze is fixed on the water like it might move if I look away.
“Do you want to go in?”
The voice is small and soft and very, very unexpected. I turn around quickly with a jolt and then I freeze. There’s a little boy standing a few feet away, watching me with open curiosity.
Light brown curls. Barefoot. He looks to be about four or five years old in Spiderman pjs, and he’s probably the cutest kid I’ve ever seen in my life.
I blink once as he approaches.
“Hi,” I say softly. “Who are you?”
“Leonardo Jameson Vitale,” he replies with his chest puffed out adorably. “And you’re Lindsay Beaumont. My daddy’s told me all about you.”
My heart stops for a minute. I already know the answer to the next question that falls from my lips. But I have to ask it anyway.
“Who’s your daddy?”
He smiles like it’s a dumb question, “Matteo Vitale.”
“I see.” I nod numbly.
Matteo has a son. I want to feel anger and annoyance. I can’t believe he never told me. I never would have guessed. But then I think about why I should feel upset in the first place.
Matteo has always been a puzzle I’ve tried to figure out. This is a big piece of his life. But he was never obligated to tell me about it.
“It’s really nice to meet you, Leonardo,” I say gently to the little boy, crouching down so we’re at eye level. “Where’s your dad now?”
“He already left. He told me he has a lot of work to do. And that I have to take care of our guest,” he informs me.
My lips tilt up in a smile and I feel all the annoyance melt away. Upon closer look, it’s pretty clear that he’s Matteo’s kid. He has his eyes and his smile.
“We can go for a swim if you want,” Leo tells me. “My nanny doesn’t let me swim in the mornings because it’ll be too cold. But I can tell her you want to.”
I shake my head. “Your nanny’s right, Leo. It is too cold. And even if it wasn’t, I don’t know how to swim, and this pool looks deep.”
His eyes widen. “Why?”
“Because it scares me,” I answer honestly.
“I was scared too, when I was learning how to swim,” he says.
“And how did you get over it?”
“My dad taught me. When I got scared, he told me to close my eyes and count to three. He would hold my hand and then it wasn’t so scary anymore. Maybe he could teach you.”
Every inch of me grows warm at the look in his eyes as he talks about Matteo. It’s clear his son adores him very much. A part of me struggles to imagine Matteo as a soft, doting father. But then I think about the other glimpses of him I saw, as well.
Underneath it all, he’s exactly the kind of man Leo’s describing.
“What else did he tell you about me?” I question curiously.
“He said to keep you company and that I should make sure you eat breakfast,” Leo states. “My favorite breakfast is chocolate chip pancakes. What’s yours?”
“I love pancakes!” I tell him with a wide smile.
He grins. “Okay. After we eat, I can take you to see my pets.”
I rise to my feet and he slips his palm into mine, leading me toward the dining room I’m guessing.
“You have pets?”
My eyes roam around the house. It’s so clean and precise. I can’t imagine pets roaming through the halls.
“They’re in the back of the house, in my pet house,” Leo clarifies.
“What kind of pets do you have?”
Leo proceeds to talk my ear off about his numerous pets for the next hour while we have breakfast. He tells me all about his fish and his rabbits and his toads. And he tells me about his father, as well.
The man in Leo’s stories isn’t a man I’m familiar with—an amazing, loving dad that grants his son everything he desires.
After breakfast, Leo is escorted to his room while a tall, beefy man with brown eyes approaches me.
“Miss Beaumont, my name is Roscoe. I’m the head of security here and also Leo’s primary guard,” he says in a cool, blank tone.
“Nice to meet you,” I say dryly.
“Mr. Vitale asked me to pass on a message.”
I roll my eyes. “As opposed to delivering it to me himself?”
If he had something to say, he could have just texted it to me. I told him to give me space; he didn’t have to create a world between us.
A voice inside my head whispers that I’m getting exactly what I wanted. But a part of me is disappointed that I ruined what we had.
Roscoe looks at me, unimpressed, until I sigh and roll my wrist in a gesture for him to spit out the message.
“He suggested that you contact your office to take some time off. Perhaps a couple of weeks.”
“I can’t take a couple of weeks off. I have pending trials,” I state.
“He said you would say that. But he also asked me to point out that the person responsible for shooting your father is still at large. He said he was sure you could find someone else to handle your trials until your return.”
My fists clench. “And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?”
“Whatever you want. As long as you do it within the four walls of this house.”
“Making me a prisoner wasn’t the deal when I agreed to be brought here,” I mutter.
Roscoe’s expression grows amused. “I was under the impression you didn’t agree to be brought here at all.”
I roll my eyes. He’s just as annoying as his boss.
“When is he coming back?”
He shrugs. “I can’t say for sure, miss.”
“Okay, thank you. I understand. I’ll stay put and I won’t cause any trouble.”
My lips pull up in a smile at the cautious disbelief in Roscoe’s eyes. But he shouldn’t worry. I really will stay put. I need to come up with a plan and assess the situation first before making any moves.
If Matteo thinks he’s going to turn me into some sort of princess locked up in a tower, he’s got another think coming.
Right now, though, I’ll focus on pulling myself together.