“But you said it’s my room.”
“I did.”
My chest tightens with every passing second of this conversation. This man is driving me insane.
“Matteo, can you please stop speaking in riddles and just tell me how it is?”
He chuckles in response. Chuckles.
I wish I could see what that looks like on his face.
No, no, no. Bad. He’s not yours to marvel at.
“This place only has one bedroom, and I gave it to you so you can heal. But seeing as you just injured yourself again, it’s safer for me to stay here with you.”
A noise comes out of my mouth. It’s half-groan, half-snort. It sounds awful, but there’s no way I heard him correctly. He totally did not just say he’s going to sleep with me here from now on. In one bed. Right?
“Don’t worry, passerotta. I told you earlier I wouldn’t touch you again, so you’re safe. Now sleep.”
How on earth am I supposed to sleep with him right next to me? My brain doesn’t even know how to properly process this new situation.
Also, did I imagine that earlier, or did he call me baby? Because in my head, he did.
I fiddle around with the blanket, my feet pushing against the bottom fabric.
Matteo exhales loudly. “Go. To. Sleep.”
I huff. “I’m trying.”
“Doesn’t seem like it.”
Suddenly something occurs to me. “Where were you going to sleep tonight?”
“On the couch in my office.”
I tug at the collar of my T-shirt. “You didn’t have to.”
“Mmmm.”
We stay quiet for a while, my brain going a mile a minute, a mixture of the aftermath of the nightmare, the fact that this man is lying so close to me I can feel his body heat, and this whole fucked-up situation in general.
My life was far from perfect before; in fact, I actually hated it, but now, I’m not even sure where left and right are.
At some point, my eyes got heavy, and when I wake up the next morning, Matteo is gone.
The next two weeks go by in similar fashion. I spend most of the day by myself, happy to not have any obligations or expectations on my shoulders, and at night, Matteo shares a bed with me. He never touches me and always lies on top of the covers. My nightmare has come back several times, but never as bad as that first time since Matteo has always been able to wake me up early on, calming me down with his arms safely around me, and I’m grateful for that.
The way he took care of me after that first nightmare, the way he called me baby, the way he was so caring and gentle with me and my body in the shower earlier that evening. And knowing he’s only a few inches away from me in bed every single night. It’s made all the difference, calming my anxiety and apprehension, and I’m thankful I’ve been able to sleep better due to him.
He’s also turned me into a live wire, ready to jump him at any moment, so he can put me out of my sexually frustrated misery. But then I remember Ally and the engagement, and my libido is doused in cold water. Or at least that’s what I tell myself.
Matteo and I spend time together but not too much. At first, I reveled in that fact. For maybe the first time in my life, I’ve been able to just be, and it’s thanks to him kidnapping me and taking me out of the city.
But is it actually considered kidnapping if I didn’t protest much, taking into account I was injured? Half-kidnapping? Maybe a soft kidnapping?
Whichever one it is, him bringing me here has, without a doubt, changed my life for the better. All I did that first week was read, eat, and sleep. Then one day last week, Matteo came into the bedroom in the late morning and told me we were going for a walk, and we’ve been doing that every day since. The property is expansive, and once around the perimeter takes us almost forty-five minutes. Which could partially be due to Matteo making me walk at a snail’s pace, but I actually don’t mind. It’s nice to be outside and moving again.
That part of the day has quickly become my favorite, to the point where I’m enjoying Matteo’s company, and the companionable silence, more than I thought I would.