Page 24

MATTEO

“ Y ou want me, Matteo. So stop pretending you don’t.”

For a heartbeat, I say nothing. I just stand there, jaw tight, breathing hard like she’s physically shoved me against a wall.

Because—fuck. She’s right.

She’s always been right, and that’s the problem.

My fists clench at my sides because if I don’t hold on to something, I’m going to grab her—fist my hands in her hair, drag her close, and kiss her until neither of us can speak. But I won’t. I fucking can’t.

Because wanting her is dangerous. Wanting her makes me weak. And if I give her that much power, if I let her see just how badly I still crave her—she could destroy me.

But God help me, she’s standing there in those fucking clothes, all fury and heartbreak and heat, and I want her more than my next breath.

And yet, none of it matters.

I force the words out, voice low, cold, deliberate. A sentence meant to cut her throat with a whisper. A dagger aimed at her heart.

“One woman already claimed my heart. There’s nothing left for you.”

The silence that follows is deafening. It’s not shock—not really. Maria has known this truth for longer than she cares to admit. It’s the reason she tries so damn hard, the reason she puts on dresses I might like, cooks meals I never asked for, touches me like she still has the right.

She knew. Of course she knew. But hearing it from my mouth—as a weapon—still slams into her like a fist to the ribs.

She stiffens, her throat working as if swallowing down a sob. Her nails bite into her palms, a desperate attempt to hold herself together when everything inside her is coming undone.

But inside? Inside, something cracks wide open.

Because no matter how hard she tries, no matter what she wears, what she says, how much of herself she’s willing to offer—she knows she will never be her.

And I? I will never let her forget that.

But it’s not just that.

If she knew the truth—what I’ve done, what my hands are stained with—she wouldn’t just hate me. She’d run.

The thought slams into me like a wrecking ball, twisting in my gut, making it harder to breathe. My hands clench into fists at my sides, my nails biting into my palms as I fight the urge to reach for her—to take what I can never have.

Because the truth isn’t just ugly. It’s damning.

I didn’t just betray her by loving another woman.

I destroyed her family.

Maybe not with my own hands, maybe not in the way that would leave blood on my skin—but the stain is still there. Permanent. Unforgivable. And if she ever finds out— when she finds out—this fire between us will turn to ash.

She will hate me.

She will leave.

And for that reason alone, I force myself to do what I do best.

I push her away.

The air between us hums, so thick with unsaid words it’s suffocating. For one wild second, maybe she thinks I’ll take it back. That I’ll reach for her, pull her close, kiss her like it’s the only language we still understand.

But I don’t.

I cover the want with anger, drown the ache in cruelty.

I just stand there.

A man holding back a hurricane. A man fighting a storm, I know will win.

And Maria?

Maria has no choice but to become the storm.

The low rumble of thunder pulls me from my sleep, the remnants of my nightmare clinging to my skin like a second layer. My jaw clenches as I sit up, pressing my palms against my face. The room is too quiet, too still, and for a moment, I feel the weight of the past pressing down on me.

I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair before pushing the sheets aside. Sleep won’t be coming back anytime soon. I can feel the heaviness in my chest settling in. I need something to take the edge off.

Pulling on a pair of sweats, I make my way downstairs to the kitchen, my bare feet soundless against the cold marble. The storm outside is intensifying, flashes of lightning illuminating the dimly lit hallway. It’s fitting, really—my mind is just as chaotic as the weather outside.

Reaching for a glass from the cupboard, I fill it with water, taking slow sips as I lean against the counter.

My thoughts are a jumbled mess. The scent of her lingers in my sheets, taunting me, reminding me of the night we spent together.

Of how she felt beneath me, how she looked up at me with something dangerously close to trust in her eyes.

I close my eyes and inhale deeply.

I never should’ve touched her.

A soft sound breaks the silence.

Footsteps. I hear them move across the marble floor, just barely audible beneath the crack of thunder.

I turn my head just as Maria appears at the entrance, dressed in one of those silk nightgowns that shouldn’t be allowed around a man like me. Flashes of her in the red lingerie invade my mind, and I have to push them back forcefully so I can focus.

Her chameleon eyes widen slightly when she notices me, but she doesn’t turn away. Instead, she walks to the fridge without a single word, pulling out a bottle of water. The tension between us is thick and tangible, and for a moment, I consider letting her leave without a word.

There is no need to try and bring her to a stop. All that needed to be said was said last night. My words have pricked and scarred her little heart. I should let her go.

But I don’t.

“Maria.”

She stills. I see her back visibly tense, and my heart clambers to a pause in the middle of my chest. I deserve her coldness.

I had been too harsh with her last night.

She was only trying to take steps toward something real.

The only problem? I didn’t want anything real. I can’t allow this to happen.

“Look at me, please.” The words are meant to come out as order but instead they are much softer.

Slowly, she turns, gripping the bottle in her hands as if it’s her only anchor. “What do you want?”

I hesitate, the words forming before I can stop them. “About last night…”

Her lips part slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing over her face. I brace myself for her anger, for her disappointment. I deserve all of them.

“I thought maybe—just once—you’d remember what you have.

What’s right in front of you. And maybe—just maybe—you’d see me as something more than duty.

More than some contract you’re bound to.

” I was a monster. She told me something so heart-wrenching and I brushed it off like it meant nothing. She never deserved that from me.

She steps closer, hesitating only slightly before lifting her chin. “The next words that should come from your lips are either ‘I am sorry’ or ‘Forgive me’. If those aren’t the words you have for me, then I would rather just go back to bed. I have faced enough humiliation for one day.”

On cue, thunder cracks outside the window and shakes the kitchen window. I can see the silhouette of the city just beyond the horizon. Even in the darkness, New York has a certain beauty.

I set my glass down with more force than necessary, my fingers tightening around the edge of the counter. The words are foreign, almost unnatural on my tongue—but when I meet her eyes, I know they need to be said.

“I’m sorry, Maria.”

At first, she looks a little stunned. As if she cannot believe that I just apologized to her. My heart clenches in my chest. I have been an asshole to her all this time, and last night simply proved that to me.

She stood there, vulnerable in her lingerie, practically begging me to take her, to want her. And I had looked her in the eyes with nothing but cold brazenness and told her I didn’t want her.

I had lied. I want her, I want her so badly that it physically pains me how hard I have to hold myself back.

“What I did last night, it was wrong. I shouldn’t have turned you away the way that I did. You didn’t deserve my harshness. I should have been more kind and understanding with you.”

She casts those doe eyes to the floor and she shifts her weight from foot to foot. “Okay… I just wish things were different.”

She wants this to be real, but I am not in the space or the capacity to give her that, and I don’t think I ever will.

I want to tell her these words, but for some reason, they lodge themselves in my throat.

“Look, Matteo.” She steps toward the center island and sets her bottle down. “I get it, okay? I was never meant to be yours. This whole marriage thing threw you for a loop the day Daniele decided to run away.”

She exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair as if trying to steady herself. “And I know you’ve been trying to make the best of it, just like I have. But let’s be honest—neither of us chose this. We’ve just been playing our parts, pretending like any of this makes sense.”

Her voice wavers, but she doesn’t back down. “I was the foolish one to think that maybe this—us—could be something real.

Her words hang in the air above us. They move through the kitchen with a thick tension that hits me in the middle of my chest.

Her eyes hold mine, never once leaving my gaze.

I lick my lips, preparing to speak. I am a man who has stared down the barrel of a gun and never once did I flinch. But here I am looking at my wife, and my knees feel like they are buckling.

“I had a wife before you.” The words slip past my lips before I can speak. “I loved her deeply and I lost her unexpectedly. The things that you want from me, I cannot give you. I won’t apologize for that. But what I can say is this, I should have been more gentle with you. You deserved better.”

The silence passes between us. She muses over my words again, digesting them one by one.

“I didn’t want you to be kind or understanding.

I simply wanted you to fuck me. Last night, I was under no impression that you would give me love or anything like that.

I simply wanted you to have sex with me the way you did the night of the gala.

You did things to my body that I never felt in my entire life. I… I want that again.”

She speaks with such confidence in her tone, but the blush that tints her cheeks betrays her. She is still innocent, so uncorrupted.