God… that sounds sick.
Dominic’s eyes are both tender and sad. They’re filled with remorse for the emotion he’s unwittingly stirred within me. “At some point, you’ll have to think about what you want to do. But it doesn’t have to be right now.” He adds, “Hell, nothing ever has to be done, I guess. But…” He trails off.
Curious about what he has to say, I ask, “But?”
“It seems like a shame to leave it sitting empty like that. It’s such a beautiful house. Your parents worked so hard on it. Do you think that maybe you’ll go back someday?”
“No.” The word pops out of my mouth. I can’t imagine being there without them. Plus, I was only there for six years. The place doesn’t feel like home the way Chicago does. And it’s not like I have any family there. Or even friends. I’ve drifted from the people I met in middle and high school. They were my friends at the time, but we never shared the kind of deep history that binds you to one another.
It could never compare to the history I have with Dominic or Chloe. Ones like that takes time to evolve. It doesn’t happen overnight. After moving, I wasn’t interested in putting forth that kind of effort. I didn’t want to invest myself. Home was Chicago. Not Seattle.
Never Seattle.
Biting my lower lip, I ask, “Is it too costly to maintain? Is that the problem?”
Maybe there are financial concerns Dominic hasn’t shared with me. At this point, the house has more sentimental value than anything else. I have no intention of holding on to the property forever. I’m just not ready to relinquish it yet. But if I can’t afford to keep it, there isn’t much choice in the matter. Which isn’t something I had considered before.
Dominic hesitates before shaking his head. “Financially, you’re fine. I just hate to see you spending money on maintenance, taxes, and insurance if you have no plans to return. It seems like a waste of money. I’d rather see you unload the property for a profit while the market is hot and invest the proceeds wisely.”
His explanation makes sense. I would expect no less from Dominic. He’s good at separating the emotion from the financial decisions that need to be made.
But still… I don’t feel ready to part with it.
“Could we revisit the issue in six months? Maybe I’ll feel differently when I’m more settled in my new life here.”
He continues stroking my cheeks with his thumbs. “I think that’s a good plan. The house isn’t a pressing issue.” His eyes continue holding mine. So much love shines in them. “I never meant to upset you, Gracie.” His voice takes on a husky quality. “I hate seeing you cry. It rips me apart inside.”
I force my lips into a watery smile. As our gazes hold, he closes the distance between us and presses a kiss against my mouth. Before surprise can even register, he stands, pulling me up with him.
“What do you say to getting out of here for a while? It’s a beautiful night. Let’s go to Navy Pier.” I feel relieved that he’s dropping the subject of the house. “Remember how much you used to love the Ferris wheel?”
Tamping down all the riotous emotion brewing inside me, I teasingly ask, “What do you mean- used to? I still love it.”
“Of course you do.” Dominic pulls me against him and wraps his arm around my shoulders. “All right then, come on. The Ferris wheel awaits.”
Chapter Thirteen
On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, I work from one in the afternoon until five in the evening at The Art Institute. The first week, I spent most of my time shadowing Jonathan as he gave guided tours through different collections at the museum.
By the end of the week, I led private tours by myself. If anything, I have to scale back what I talk about because there’s just so much history regarding the museum, as well as the exhibits currently on display. I love art so much, I just want to open people’s eyes to the amazing works housed right here in this city. Chicago’s Institute of Art is one of the finest art museums in the world. It’s on par with The Louvre and Smithsonian.
Seriously, how remarkable is that?
Jonathan joins me as my last group of the day splinters apart. There are a few people who linger with additional questions which I am all too eager to answer.
“You’re a natural at this,” he comments, nodding toward a group of three college aged guys who continue to straggle. “Although this group seemed more interested in you than what you were talking about.”
With a slight heat suffusing my cheeks, I roll my eyes. “Please.” Not that I’ll admit it to him, but I noticed it, too. They were cute enough. In a young, unpolished way.
Instead of commenting, I merely smile before deftly changing the topic. “You know what’s funny? I really hate public speaking.”
Jonathan folds his arms across his chest. “You would never know it. You’re confident and poised in front of your groups.”
I grin at the compliment. “Thank you. I think it’s only because once I start looking at the art, I can find so much to talk about.” I shrug. “And these people are a captive audience.”
“Well, you’re doing a fantastic job, keep it up. I know Marilyn is impressed, and that’s no easy feat.” He gives me a wry look before muttering, “Trust me on that.” With the next breath, he asks, “So, got any big plans after work? Maybe with a boyfriend you haven’t mentioned?” He wiggles his brows. We’ve managed to keep all our conversations professional so far, without delving into our private lives.
Or maybe I should say that I haven’t delved into my personal life. I’m trying to keep everything superficial right now. But I’m beginning to realize that keeping things casual around Jonathan is difficult. He asks a lot of questions.
My guess is that Jonathan is somewhere in his mid-thirties. We bonded over our shared appreciation of art right from the start. I think he loves this place as much as I do. He and his partner enjoy exploring all of Chicago’s museums. One of the perks to volunteering is that you receive free admission to the other museums in the area, as well as Shedd Aquarium.
“I already told you that I don’t have a boyfriend.” For some reason, Jonathan thinks I’m lying. “I have some homework to finish up tonight. That’s about it.” He’s determined to sniff out any dirt I might have.
He rolls his large, hazel eyes. “Sounds incredibly dull. I’m starting to suspect that you don’t have much of a social life. We need to change that.”
I laugh and shrug. “I would have to say that your assessment of the situation is correct. There hasn’t been time for fun since school started.” Once I have a handle on the amount of homework I’ve been receiving, I’ll be able to go out a little more. Chloe has called several times asking if I want to meet up at Covet, but I’ve had to decline.
“Are you sure there’s no hot man on the backburner somewhere? You’re way too cute to be single.”
“Nope, none.” The last thing I need right now is entanglements. I have more than enough on my plate with school and volunteering.
He strokes his fingers against his stubble-covered chin, pretending to contemplate me. I hope he’s pretending. I don’t want a well-intentioned set-up. The thought of one makes me shudder.
“You know,” he drawls slowly, “Jamie has a younger brother who works at the Chicago Stock Exchange. He kind of has a stick up his ass, but you seem exactly his type.”
I’m not sure how to respond to that.
Ummm, thank you?
His words make me laugh. “A stick up his ass is his biggest selling point?” I shake my head. “Sorry, I’ll be taking a hard pass on that one.” I can’t help but ask, “Exactly how is that my type?”
Jonathon grins. “Well, he’s really hot. Does that help at all?”
I let the idea roll around in my head for a moment. “It might,” I tease. Although I don’t think so. If I want a man, I’ll find one on my own.
He makes a don’t worry gesture by flicking a hand at me. “I’ll text you a picture. You’ll change your mind. The man is obsessed with working out.
”
I groan and stare up at the gorgeous glass ceiling that allows light to pour inside the corridor we’re standing in. “I’ll find my own men, thank you very much.”
He snorts, which is hilarious. “Exactly who are these men you speak of? I haven’t seen or heard anything that could be misconstrued as juicy or interesting regarding the male species. You’re like a little nun.”
“We barely know each other. I could be totally wild and crazy.” Running my hand along my body, I say, “Maybe this is all a big charade.”
He arches a brow. “Please. I had you pegged from the moment you walked through the door in your knee-length skirt and sensible flats.” He waits a beat. “And you’ve yet to prove me wrong.”
Sensible flats? “These aren’t flats.”
Looking unimpressed, he glances down at my footwear. “They might as well be.”
By the way we banter back and forth, you’d assume that we’ve known each other for years instead of weeks. There’s something about Jonathan. He’s easy to get along with, and it kind of feels like we’re kindred spirits. I think he recognizes it as well because right from the start, he took me under his wing.
“So, what type of guy do you usually go for?”
When I remain silent, he pretends to whine. “How can I find you the perfect man when you won’t help?”
“Tall. Dark. Handsome.” As soon as those these descriptive words roll off my tongue, I almost cringe, knowing exactly who I just described. I’m tempted add dangerous. Sexy. Incredibly good with his hands. Wide palms…
I really need to stop thinking about Matteo.
And that unfortunate limo ride back to Lexington Place.
“Hmmm… kind of like him?”
Jonathan jerks his head toward a man standing across the gallery. Following his stare, everything inside me stills as my eyes immediately collide with Matteo’s. He returns my gaze with a dark, brooding one of his own.
I gulp, my throat having gone bone dry. All I can do is stand rooted in place as our eyes continue to hold. People wander across our line of vision, but our stare never falters.
“Don’t tell Jamie that I’m drooling right now.” He sighs. “I’m pretty sure he would be, too. I just love dark, swarthy men. He looks… Mediterranean.”
“Italian.”
Jonathan manages to rip his eyes away from Matteo only to pin me with an incredulous stare. “You know him?”
Heart pounding, I shake my head. “Not really. He lives in my building.”
His expression turns speculative, and I know I’m in trouble. “Hmmm, I think you’ve been holding out on me.”
“He’s a neighbor,” I say firmly, as if that will make it true, “nothing more.”
“That’s a shame. Please, please, please, tell me he’s not married.”
“He’s not married,” I mutter. Sucking in a breath, I repeat Matteo’s own words, hoping they’ll feel like a glass of cold water in my face. My libido needs immediate dousing. “He doesn’t date, if you catch my drift.”
“Oh, I catch it, all right. And to that, I say who the hell cares?”
I’ve yet to pull my eyes from Matteo. I don’t think I can. When he starts moving toward me through the crowd, nerves gather in the pit of my belly.
“I should give you two some privacy,” Jonathan murmurs out of the side of his mouth, “but I’m not going to.”
“Don’t you dare leave me,” I whisper harshly under my breath. “I will literally kill you.”
He chuckles gleefully. “Trust me, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
I don’t want an audience to whatever is about to unfold, but I can’t be alone with Matteo.
“God, the closer he gets, the hotter he gets! I want to rub my eyes just to make sure he’s real.” Jonathan mutters those words just seconds before Matteo joins us.
“Grace.”
He looks gorgeous in an expensive suit that fits his body as if it had been tailored specifically for him. Which probably isn’t too far from the truth.
When I stand there staring, Jonathan jabs me in the ribs with his elbow.
“Hello!” Feeling awkward, I clear my throat before introducing my new friend and colleague. “Matteo, this is Jonathan. He’s a volunteer at the Institute as well.”
Jonathan straightens to his full height, which is still a good five inches shorter than Matteo and thrusts out his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard absolutely nothing about you.”
“Jonathan!”
I really am going to murder him. This is already an uncomfortable situation, he’s only making it worse.
Matteo’s lips lift as his eyes land on mine. “Is that so? Nothing at all, hmm? Well, that is strange. Grace and I have been spending quite a bit of time together.” His voice is smooth and dark, like the finest chocolate.
I may have to murder him as well.
Double homicide.
Jonathan’s eyes grow wide as saucers and bounce like a ping pong ball between us.
Before I can say anything, Matteo continues silkily, his accent barely perceptible. “We were running together by the lakefront just last week.” He arches a brow. “Isn’t that so?”
Everything in me that had become whipcord tight releases. “Yes,” I breathe with a sigh of relief, “you’re right. We did run together a few mornings.”
He smiles, and I know that he’s not thinking about the time we spent outdoors. By the hungry look in his eyes, my guess is that he’s conjuring up images of us in the limo. I swear to God that I’ll kill him without a second thought if he alludes to it.
Jonathan continues to eye us curiously as if trying to decipher what’s really going on. Good luck to him, because not even I know. Since Matteo has been MIA this week, I’d thought it was nothing at all.
“I guess I won’t try to hook you up with Jamie’s brother, after all,” he mutters to no one in particular.
Matteo’s dark espresso-colored eyes instantly shift to Jonathan’s. “I think not.”
Mine widen at his audacity. “Who I see is none of-”
Not allowing me to finish the sentence, he turns back to Jonathan. “Would you mind if I speak to Grace in private?”
The words may be posed like a question, but they’re not. And Jonathan is smart enough to realize it. I asked him not to leave me alone with Matteo, but I can tell that he’s moments away from fleeing.
His eyes shift to my wide ones as if already apologizing for abandoning me. I try giving him a subliminal message. One that goes unreceived. Or he just chooses to ignore it. “Of course. No problem.”
“Would you happen to know when Grace is finished for the day?”
Jonathan’s gaze flickers to mine for a moment. I’m pretty sure smoke is pouring out of my ears. Glancing at his wristwatch, he throws me to the wolves. “Um… right now. She’s officially off the clock.”
Matteo’s lips slide up at the corners, rendering him even more striking. It’s not a full-blown smile, but for all intents and purposes, Jonathan is blown away by it. “Thank you.”
Just like that, my friend abandons me like a rat fleeing a sinking ship. Irritated, I turn my wrath upon Matteo. It’s a relief to feel anger pumping through my blood. It’s much safer than the attraction that liquefies all my brain cells until I’m reduced to nothing more than a mass of needy, quivering flesh.
“I was hoping to take you out for dinner.”
I’m so tempted to screech and stomp my foot, but this place is like a church to me. And I would never behave that way in a place of worship. I do, however, grind my molars until I have control over my temper.
“I’m sorry, that doesn’t work for me.”
He lifts an elegant brow. “No?”
“Nope.”
As he steps closer, his delicious scent wraps around me, cocooning me in sensory overload. “I thought you would be a bit more amenable to spending time together after what happened in the limo.”
I grind my teeth again. “What are you
doing here?”
His eyes never leave mine. I feel as if I’m being impaled by them, as if there’s nowhere for me to hide. “Admiring the art,” he responds softly. “There is so much beauty here. Don’t you think?”
I’m weakening.
Starting to waver.
I feel it happening as we speak.
His proximity is my kryptonite.
“How did you know I was here?”
He closes the little bit of distance left between us. I become lost in the vastness of his dark eyes. They’re mesmerizing. Powerfully seductive. “I make it a habit to learn about the things that interest me.”
I’m not quite sure how to take that. And it certainly doesn’t help that something inside me-a part I’d rather not acknowledge-feels thrilled by that innocuous statement.
“I really shouldn’t,” I mutter. The words are more for me than him. “I don’t make good decisions when I’m around you.”
He grins. It’s so devilish in nature that a bolt of lust arrows to my lady parts. “If it makes you feel better, I find no fault with your decision-making skills.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Have dinner with me, Grace.”
In a last-ditch attempt to derail what I now realize is inevitable, I throw his own words back in his face. “I thought you didn’t date women.” Shooting a quick glance around me, I whisper, “You just fuck them.”
His eyes continue searing into mine. “By the end of the evening, you will beg me to fuck you.”
Eyes narrowing, I gasp. “You’re rather conceited, aren’t you?”
He smiles smugly and extends an elbow toward me. “I have good reason to be, bella. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Chapter Fourteen
Matteo ushers me through the glass doors of Osprey, one of Chicago’s most exclusive restaurants. It normally takes six months to get a reservation. I’m a little stunned when we walk right in, and the maître de practically throws himself at Matteo, gushing about how delighted he is to see him. We’re immediately escorted to a table right in the middle of the dining room.
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