He walked past me, up the stoop, and unlocked the door. I followed him inside, into a cool, dark entryway. He stopped and took off his shoes.
“You too,” he said, nodding at the neat, orderly shoe rack.
“I’m not wearing socks.”
“I can get you a pair.”
I rolled my eyes but slipped out of my heels. I was instantly a few inches shorter. He smiled at me and let his eyes roam down my body, which only pissed me off even more. Maybe I could bludgeon him to death with one spiky shoe, but based on the way he fought off those four Healy goons, I doubted it would go over well.
He walked further into the house and I followed. Stairs were on the left and disappeared up to a quiet second floor. The living room was shockingly cozy—deep, brown leather couch with lots of blankets and simple pillows, black and white photography on the walls, and so many houseplants that I thought I stepped out into a forest at some point. He whistled a tuneless song and gently brushed his fingers over some of the plants like he was welcoming himself back home as he headed past a small table and a few bookshelves, and disappeared into the kitchen.
I didn’t follow right away. I looked around with my mouth hanging open. It was like I’d stepped into some Pinterest album for cozy academia or something like that. The sheer amount of plants was almost shocking, and it wasn’t at all how I pictured a Valentino mobster would live.
“Tea? Since you can’t drink. I’ve got decaf.”
“Please,” I said and drifted to the table. I sat down as he appeared in the kitchen door.
“Make yourself at home.”
“This is your place?”
He nodded. “Bought it a few years back. It wasn’t much then but I’ve done a lot of work. Put in the floors, built half this furniture, rearranged the entry. All that good stuff.” He shrugged like it was no big deal and went back into the kitchen.
I pulled out my phone while I had the chance and texted Nessa. I’m okay, with Matteo. Don’t worry.
She responded instantly. Worry? I was Flipping. Out. What the hell happened??
Misunderstanding, I typed. Don’t worry about it. Everything’s okay.
How’s Mr. Baby Daddy taking the news?? He’s HOT, btw.
He’s taking it shockingly well. I hit send and shoved the phone back into my small purse as Matteo returned with my decaf tea and a tumbler of something dark for himself.
He settled into the chair across from me and leaned on his elbows while I blew on the hot tea.
“All right, Sam,” he said. “So you’re here now.”
“So I’m here.” I took a sip. It burned my tongue, but that was better than talking.
He looked almost pained. “When did you find out about the baby?”
“Today,” I said and barked out a little laugh. “God, I can’t believe it’s just been today. It’s like this day’s lasted forever.”
“I know what you mean.” He leaned back and sipped his drink, studying me.
I felt almost naked under his gaze. I was wearing a tight dress with the goal to draw his attention from the start, but now that I had it, I almost wished I’d worn something simpler and baggy. Maybe that sweatshirt from this morning would’ve been better. But then I remembered that night, the way he touched me and whispered in my ear, the way it felt coming again, and again, and how insatiable he was—
And maybe he told me the truth. Maybe everything else was real. It started out as a lie, but that doesn’t mean everything needs to be fake.
Or maybe his handsome, sparkling eyes were making me question myself, and I should try to stay angry instead.
“What were you doing at that party, anyway?” I asked. “You never said.”
“You don’t want to know.”
“I actually do.” I tilted my head slightly. “I want to know what kind of man I’m dealing with.”
“I was there to kill a man,” he said and leaned toward me. “Is that what you wanted to hear? I’m a killer for the Valentino family, princess. That shouldn’t come as a surprise.”
And yet it did. My heart stuttered and I covered my sudden fear by taking a sip of the tea. Matteo didn’t look like a killer—too handsome, too pretty by half. But I saw what he could do in that fight earlier, and if he somehow managed to sneak into the party, that meant he had skills.
I shouldn’t underestimate him just because he’s attractive and we had one good night.
“What’d you plan on doing then?” I asked. “Kill a man and leave me alone?”
“Pretty much,” he said, shrugging. “Except you distracted me.”
“Distracted you.” I made a disgusted face and felt my skin crawl. “So you’re telling me that sex with me was more interesting to you than murdering a guy?”