58. Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Mariella
T eo strides ahead as we step into the house and starts to remove the dust sheets draped over the furniture. A faint layer of dust clings to every exposed surface, catching the light streaming through the tall windows.
“I haven’t been here for a few months,” he says, his tone casual but apologetic, as if he’s preemptively answering the questions he expects me to ask.
I walk behind him into the open space, a seamless blend of living room, dining area, and a kitchen that’s discreetly tucked to one side. The architecture is stunning, yet unpretentious, with high ceilings that make it seem larger.
It’s airy and drenched in natural light, the kind of place that instantly puts you at ease. I can’t stop myself from smiling. I’m already in love.
Teo picks up a sleek device that looks like an iPad from the kitchen counter, his fingers moving swiftly across the screen. There’s a soft click-clack as locks disengage, followed by a mechanical hum.
He steps toward the large bifold window panels that frame the far wall, their size commanding the space. With a smooth motion, he pulls them open, inviting the crisp fall air to flood the room. The sharp tang of fallen leaves mixes with the faint scent of wood and earth. It’s refreshing.
“Better air the place,” he murmurs, but there’s an edge to his voice, something faintly uncertain.
Is he nervous?
No, that can’t be right. Mateo De Marco never is.
Still, I don’t question my instincts, and move toward him and wrap my arms around his waist, hugging him tightly.
“I’m in love with this place,” I say softly, meaning every word.
There’s so much more I want to add, the words nearly bubbling to the surface. But not as much as I’m in love with you.
But it’s too soon to say that, even with the intensity of everything that’s happening between us. Even with him talking about marriage. My heart swells with the thought, but I keep it to myself, for now.
Being here with him feels right , even though it still catches me off guard.
This intimacy between us, this seriousness, only became real yesterday.
Yesterday!
And now, here I am, standing in a space that’s worlds away from the opulence and gravity that usually surrounds Teo. There’s no entourage, no watchful eyes, just the two of us.
It’s surreal.
I glance up at him, smiling, and something about his face shifts. The sharp lines of his jaw relax, and the weight he so often carries seems to lift, if only slightly.
It’s almost as if this house, his sanctuary, peels away a layer of his carefully constructed armor. The softness I see in him now is rare.
I rise onto my tiptoes and press a light kiss to his lips. It’s brief but intimate. Then, with a playful tug, I take his hands and pull him further inside.
“Let’s uncover all the furniture so you can give me that house tour you promised.” And so I can have dessert too.
Together, we start removing more of the dust sheets, folding them in sync. The rhythm we fall into seems effortless, as though we’ve done this hundreds of times before.
It’s these little things, the way we move together without hesitation, an unspoken understanding between us, that make this so real. There’s no awkwardness, no fumbling, just a natural sense of ease.
As we peel back each sheet, the room reveals its understated elegance. The furniture is modern, with clean, simple lines, yet it has a rustic charm that perfectly complements the house and its surroundings.
When we uncover a leather sofa, I can’t help but grin. It reminds me of the one in his suite at Carloso, sleek, masculine, undeniably him .
This place is so quintessentially Mateo, and I enjoy being here more with every passing second.
“Who usually cleans this place?” I ask as we fold the final cloth, curiosity getting the better of me.
“I do,” he replies simply.
My mouth falls open, and I gape at him.
“Don’t look so surprised,” he says, an amused glint in his eyes. “I’m fairly self-sufficient when I need to be. There’s something grounding about performing mundane tasks. Do I want to do them every day? No. But once in a while, it’s a good reminder to appreciate all the privileges I have.”
Wow. He really is a surprise package.
But then, why am I surprised? Of course, there’s more to Mateo than the carefully curated image he presents to the world. I’ve known that for years, haven’t I?
I’ve loved him for a long time, admired him from a distance while imagining what he might be like behind closed doors. And now?
Now, I don’t stand a chance. I’m a total goner.
This domesticated side of him makes him seem normal, approachable, and somehow even more irresistible.
We work together in a comfortable silence, the kind that doesn’t need to be filled. He’s still Mateo, though, standing here folding sheets in designer jeans and a tailored shirt, looking like he stepped out of a photoshoot. Not even here, far from the city, will he slum it.
The thought makes me smile. “Does your brother clean up his place on the island himself too?” I ask teasingly.
Mateo’s laughter wraps around me like a warm blanket on a cold winter’s night.
“Ha, no! He flies his trusted housekeeper out ahead of him to get everything ready. Always.”
I giggle at the image of his brother dusting shelves or folding laundry. “Good. I can’t imagine our Don cleaning,” I say with a grin. “That picture just doesn’t fit him.”
“No, it doesn’t,” he agrees, still laughing.
I carry the last dust sheet to the open drawer where Mateo has been neatly stacking them, and drop it onto the pile. When I turn around, Mateo is there, so close that I draw in a sharp breath.
His hands find my waist, pulling me snug against his body. I sigh with contentment. Wrapped in his arms, feeling like nothing in the world can touch me, has quickly become my favorite place.
He moves us backward with measured steps until my back meets the cool, solid surface of the wall. The contrast between its chill and the heat radiating from him sends a shiver down my spine. He unwinds his arms from around me, but instead of letting me go, he braces them on the wall on either side of my head, caging me in.
The energy between us shifts instantly. What had been playful and relaxed just moments ago transforms into something way more electric.
His eyes hold mine, their intensity cutting through the air like lightning, igniting every nerve in my body.
I can feel the heat of his breath as he leans in, his lips just a whisper away from mine. The charged silence between us is deafening, as if the entire world has paused, holding its breath for what comes next.
“Do you have any idea what it means to me to have you here?” he murmurs, his voice low, rough, and impossibly seductive.
My heart pounds wildly, as I search for a response, but words fail me. He looks at me like I’m the only thing that exists in his world, and it steals every coherent thought from my mind.
“Teo,” I whisper, my voice trembling with anticipation.
His lips curve into a small, knowing smile. “You drive me insane,” he says, his tone both a confession and a challenge. His gaze flickers to my lips, lingering for a heartbeat before meeting my eyes again.
It’s all the encouragement I need.
I reach up, sliding my hands around his neck, pulling him down to me. The kiss starts soft, tender, but the simmering tension between us refuses to be contained. It deepens quickly, his hands shifting to my hips, fingers digging in just enough to confirm I’m his.
The rest of the world could go up in flames and neither of us would even notice. All that matters is him. His touch, his taste, the unspoken promise in the way he holds me like I’m something precious.
When we finally break apart, both of us breathing hard, he rests his forehead against mine.
“We better get in the groceries from the car,” I say softly, a little breathless, as I thread my fingers through his hair, holding him to me, never wanting to let him go.
His voice is rough, like gravel over silk. “You’re right. There’s a jar of honey with your name on it.”