Still, I fought off sleep until I heard Gianna’s breathing deepening and her body softening against me. I didn’t trust Gianna, not after what she’d done. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever trust her completely. I knew she’d run the moment I left her out of my sight. I wouldn’t give her another chance to evade me. I didn’t care what I had to do to keep her in New York.

Luca had thought I’d lose interest in her once I’d fucked her. Part of me had hoped for it, but I could already tell that it wasn’t the case. I still wanted her, probably more than before.

I was completely and utterly screwed.

Gianna

The next morning I woke to Matteo moving around in the bedroom. I didn’t give any indication that I was awake, instead I listened to his sounds. I didn’t want to face him. He’d be smug about last night, definitely intolerable. Before a long shower and a strong coffee I wasn’t in the mood for that particular kind of confrontation. When his steps finally moved away and the door clicked shut, I exhaled and opened my eyes. The skyline of New York was hung with heavy clouds. Maybe I could simply stay in bed, but I had a feeling Matteo might try to join me if I did. My traitorous body tingled with excitement at the idea of having his hands on me again, maybe even allowing him to go down on me for real.

I quickly sat up, slid out of bed and hurried into the bathroom to splash cold water into my face. I winced at the burning in my lip. I peered at myself in the mirror. My lower lip was swollen dramatically and the skin below it was bruised. I looked like I’d been in a fight, which wasn’t that far from the truth. I opened my mouth to take a look at the stitches. Disgusted, I quickly snapped it shut again. The events from yesterday flashed through my mind.

I hadn’t even had nightmares about what happened to Sid. I still felt horrible for his cruel death, but my dreams had been empty, a black void of nothingness. Maybe I did belong into this world after all.

My eyes slid down to a spot on the side of my neck where Matteo had left a hickey. The bastard had marked me like I was his property, and to him that was probably the case. I touched the bruise.

Grimacing, I turned away from my reflection, and took a quick shower. When I returned to the bedroom, I found my bags on the floor. Matteo must have carried them in while I was getting ready. Sneaky bastard. How could he move so quietly?

I quickly put my clothes into the drawers that Matteo must have cleared for me. Somehow it annoyed me that he’d made space for me as if he’d known all along that I’d eventually move in. He must have done it long ago. There hadn’t been any time last night or this morning. Putting away the clothes that I hadn’t worn in six months also made me realize that I desperately needed to go shopping. My old clothes felt like a relict from an old life. In our rush to leave my apartment in Munich, I hadn’t been able to grab any of my new clothes.

Afterward, fully-dressed I headed downstairs, pausing every so often to listen for Matteo. It was silent in the apartment and as I walked through the living room toward the open kitchen I didn’t encounter anyone, not even a bodyguard. Suspicion flared in me. Matteo would never leave me unsupervised after what I’d done. My eyes scanned the ceiling, the corners and every other possible place for security cameras, but I found none. I hesitated in the middle of the kitchen for a moment, eyes darting to the massive coffee maker. Screw it. I needed caffeine. If Matteo wasn’t there, for which I was grateful, I’d pretend this was my home.

And I didn’t even need to pretend. This was my home now, or it was supposed to be. Of course it didn’t feel like it. It had been a long time since any place had felt like home. In the last few months of my living there, even my parents’ house hadn’t felt like one anymore. There was no use thinking about it now. I’d never forgive Father for how he’d treated me, nor Mother because she’d let him. Maybe I was dead to them, but they were dead to me too.

My finger hovered in front of the button that would turn the coffee maker on. This eerie silence was driving me crazy. Scolding myself for my ridiculous caution, I finally pushed it. I grabbed a cup and selected a Cappucino. I wasn’t on the run anymore. The worst had already happened.

With a satisfying fizz, the hot liquid shot out. The moment it was done, I cradled the cup and took a long sip, feeling how the warmth and familiar taste cleared my mind further. I leaned against the counter, letting my eyes wander through the apartment. I actually liked the puristic design, the sleek black leather couches, black hardwood furniture and white walls. I wondered if Luca and Matteo had hired the same interior designer because their furniture was so similar. I could see myself looking for art pieces that would fit in, could see myself shop for pillows that would bring some color in, could see myself decorating a large tree for Christmas. I walked around the counter, perched on the stool and turned my back on the place I could so easily see myself living in.

This wasn’t what I wanted. Or at least something I hadn’t wanted six months ago, something I shouldn’t want, not after risking so much to escape it. I closed my eyes and inhaled the comforting scent of my coffee. I needed to see Aria again, but was I even allowed to go one floor up to her penthouse? The idea that I had to ask Matteo and maybe even Luca for permission whenever I wanted to see my sister drove me up the walls. It was a good reminder of why I’d run in the first place, something I could never allow myself to forget.

A warm breath ghosted over my neck, followed by a low, “Good morning.”

I cried out in surprise and sent my coffee cup flying off the kitchen bar. It broke into dozens of sharp pieces and spilled coffee everywhere. My head whirled around and I found myself face to face with a smirking Matteo.

“Fuck. Why the hell are you creeping up on me like that? You scared the hell out of me,” I hissed.

He shook his head with an amused expression. “All those nasty words pouring out of your sweet mouth, is that really appropriate?”

He was making fun of me. His eyes took their sweet-ass time wandering over my curves, lingering on the hickey before moving a bit lower again. And the worst thing was the way my body was reacting to his closeness, his scent, his muscled chest. Thankfully, my face didn’t feel hot, so maybe I hadn’t blushed.

“Since when do you care about being appropriate?” I muttered. I slipped past Matteo and knelt beside the broken remains of my cup. I hoped Matteo didn’t suspect what his proximity was doing to me. I picked up the pieces but Matteo came to my help. I wasn’t sure if he was doing it to be nice or if he knew about his effect on me and was trying to play with me. From what I knew about him, I guessed the latter. I was trying not to look his way as he squatted beside me. He was giving me a good view of his perfectly shaped ass. Goddammit, why did he have to look like that?

Without warning, he brushed his finger over my swollen lip. “I really should have killed your father.”

His touch was so gentle, it made me want to nuzzle my face against his neck and have a good cry. “Do you have a mop?” I asked casually.

He shrugged, dropping his hand. “I’ve seen Marianna run around with one on occasion.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course he had no clue. He probably had never even done his own laundry. “Do you at least know where Marianna keeps the cleaning stuff?”