“Yep.” I throw off the sheets I’d just gathered around me and hop out of bed. His eyes smolder as they track my movements.
He covers his gorgeous chest by yanking on a shirt. “You’d better get some clothes on,” his words are low, tinged with a hint of a growl, “or we won’t be going for that run. Instead, you’ll find yourself flat on your back for another hour.”
Hmmm.
Sounds tempting.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Matteo and I spend the entire weekend together. Much like Saturday, I wake up the next morning to coffee in bed. Before I can enjoy my java, Matteo’s face is between my legs, licking and nibbling until I scream his name. I don’t have a chance to catch my breath before he buries his cock deep inside me, making me orgasm again.
There’s no denying that Matteo is a fierce, demanding lover. He has pushed me outside my comfort zone, but I can’t say that I regret it. Boneless and completely sated, we hit the streets again to jog along the lakefront.
Even though everything seems fine between us, I keep waiting for him to pull away. To tell me that he needs to take off before disappearing from the face of the earth again.
But he doesn’t.
We spend Sunday afternoon strolling along the streets of downtown Chicago, just meandering through the different shops lining Michigan Avenue. There’s no particular destination for this outing. And no time constrictions or restraints. He holds my hand the entire time we’re together.
Matteo asks question after question about my childhood, as if he’s trying to delve deeper into what events have shaped me into the person I now am. It gives me cautious hope that whatever is unfolding between us isn’t just a casual weekend fling.
As we grab sandwiches from a food truck late Sunday afternoon, it occurs to me that I’m the one who’s been doing most of the talking. That needs to change.
“You mentioned that you were raised here, do your parents still live in Chicago?” Opening the red and white checkered wrapper, I take a huge bite of my Italian beef sandwich. My eyes almost roll up inside my head. The shaved beef, soft bread, and hot peppers hit my taste buds at the same time.
Mmmm, delicious!
“Yes, they’re still here.”
I wait for a moment, hoping he’ll elaborate. He doesn’t.
The only thing I know about Matteo is that he grew up in Chicago, has four siblings, and spent time in Italy as a child.
Does he still visit Italy on a regular basis?
I have no idea.
He hasn’t divulged any other tidbits. He hasn’t mentioned anything personal at all. A little voice inside my head wonders if his evasiveness is a red flag.
If he didn’t live next door, I’d be convinced that he had a wife and kids stashed away somewhere. I don’t believe that for a minute, but the thought is sobering. The high I’ve been riding on all weekend begins to evaporate.
“Do your siblings still live in the area as well?”
“Yes.”
I can’t imagine what it would be like to have a large, boisterous family or a houseful of people during the holidays. Even when my mother’s parents were alive, it was just the five of us. There weren’t any loud, animated dinners at our house. My grandparents were stoic Germans.
“You ready to head back?”
Jostled out of my thoughts, I realize that the weekend is almost over, and I still have school work to complete. I’d planned to put in five or six hours on Saturday afternoon, but I pushed it off when Matteo and I ended up spending the day together. I can’t continue to procrastinate. I’ll have a long night ahead of me even if I start an hour from now.
I sneak a peek at Matteo as we continue walking side by side.
If I’m up until two o’clock in the morning, spending the weekend with him has been worth it. I have zero regrets.
As we head back to Lexington Place, I keep thinking about how there’s still so much that I don’t know about him. When I try to ask questions, he gives me the bare minimum in response.
Is it on purpose?
I don’t want to believe it is, but…
Tired of stewing over his secrecy, I finally blurt, “You don’t talk about yourself very much.” If he’s unwilling to open up even a little bit, I don’t know how much more of myself I can invest in this relationship.
His dark eyes shift in my direction. “What is it that you want to know?”
I shake my head, unsure of what to ask. I want him to share bits and pieces of himself with me because he wants to, not because I extracted it through an interrogation.
“What is it that you do?”
I always see him in expensive suits, so he’s a professional of some sort. But he’s never mentioned a job or career. It strikes me as odd that I’ve spent the weekend in bed with him, and I don’t even know what he does for a living. A sliver of unease pierces me.
I don’t even know his last name.
I almost stop short at that realization.
“I own a few businesses, along with some real estate.”
Okay… that’s not vague.
“Oh?” I ask, hoping a sign of interest will encourage him to elaborate.
He remains silent.
Fueled by frustration, I prompt, “What kind of businesses?” Maybe what he does isn’t legal. I almost laugh at myself for being ridiculous. Of course, it’s legal. I’ve never consorted with anyone involved in criminal activities. Dear Lord, my parents would roll over in their graves if I did.
That thought makes me wince.
“I own three restaurants and some commercial properties.”
Air whooshes from my lungs in relief. I hadn’t realized just how tense my body had become.
Restaurants.
Completely legal.
“Wow.” That seems normal enough. Although I wouldn’t have pegged Matteo for a restaurateur. Maybe a stockbroker? Or a fortune five hundred business owner. What I do know is that he lives in a posh building and is driven around in a limousine. So he obviously does quite well for himself.
“Would I know them?”
Silence stretches out between us before he says in a clipped tone, “Osteria, Trattoria Bartelone, and Osprey.”
My feet grind to a halt at the names he’s just thrown out. “You own those restaurants?”
He stops a few feet away and pierces me with a sharp look. “Yes, they’re mine.”
I shake my head in wonder. “Those are three of the most exclusive restaurants in the greater Chicago area.” My mind tumbles back to our first dinner together. “You took me to Osprey.” It’s always booked at least six months in advanced.
I’d marveled at how we waltzed in and were immediately shown to a table. A nice one, at that. Then there’s the deferential treatment he received from the staff. I just assumed that’s the way Matteo is normally treated. Power radiates from him. Even if he hadn’t been the owner, people would still give him a wide berth. Women would still stare with pent-up longing. I see it in the people we pass every time we’re out together.
“Yes.”
I frown in confusion. “Why didn’t you say something then?”
He shrugs. Even outfitted in jeans and a gray Henley, he looks elegant. “It didn’t seem important at the time. We were just getting to know one another.”
I’m not sure how to respond.
Should he have clued me in?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
It wouldn’t have made a difference to me. I’ve been enamored since I first laid eyes on Matteo. Whenever we come into contact with one another, those feelings only seem to intensify.
“You’re right,” I finally say, “but it makes me realize that I know next to nothing about you. We’ve spent the entire weekend together and I couldn’t tell you anything more than what I already knew.” My eyes continue holding his, begging for some answers. Begging him to let me in.
As soon as I finish speaking, a shield falls over his eyes. Instead of acknowledging my words, he
jerks his head in the direction we’ve been walking. “Should we continue?”
Stunned by the dismissal, I start moving again. The little crumbs he shared continue to churn in my head.
Should I feel hurt by the fact that he isn’t willing to be real with me? We may not be an official couple, but it’s hard to trust someone when you think they’re keeping secrets.
Who is Matteo?
Who is he really?
I don’t have the slightest clue.
And that, I realize with a pang of regret, is a deal breaker for me. He’s peppered me with questions all weekend long, and I’ve answered them honestly. Even when it dredged up painful memories.
If he hadn’t tried to get inside my head, I probably could have let his behavior go. I could take our relationship at face value. Keep it light and airy. Less personal. Strictly sexual.
He’s the one who insisted on taking things further.
Not me.
When we’re about a block from the building, I stop walking. Again, he gives me a questioning look. The openness I’d been privy to all weekend is long gone. A closed off expression has taken up residence on his handsome face.
I don’t understand it.
And I don’t understand the reasons behind it. Why does he feel the need to be so guarded with me when I’ve been nothing but forthcoming with him?
Not only with my past but sexually, as well. I’ve given him more this weekend than I ever gave Eric. I’ve let him in when I haven’t been able to do that with another human being in two years. For reasons I can’t begin to fathom, I’ve put myself out there. I’ve allowed him to get close. I’ve allowed myself to be vulnerable with him.
But none of that has been reciprocated.
“If this is going to go any further, I need to know more about you. I’ve let you into my life, but it doesn’t feel as if you’re willing to do the same in return.” I take a breath. “If this is just sex, tell me.” Because that’s not what this weekend felt like at all. Even though I’m lying through my teeth, I force myself to say the words. “I’m fine with it. Just have the courtesy to be straight with me. Don’t pretend this is more than what it is. I assure you, the pretense isn’t necessary.”
I don’t want to develop feelings for Matteo when there’s no chance of a future with him. I need to know if we’re just sleeping together so I can protect my heart.
With two quick steps, he swallows up the concrete between us and takes me into his arms.
“Is that what you want, Grace?”
I shrug, afraid to give voice to my thoughts. Afraid to lay myself completely bare.
“Because that’s not what I want,” he says. “I apologize if that’s the impression I’ve given you. That’s not how I wanted to come across.”
His words fill me with relief, but caution and unease continue to swirl within me. Until he gives me more, how can I trust him?
“I’m used to keeping people, women especially, at arm’s length. Just give me time.”
Somewhat reassured that I’m not making more of this relationship than is warranted, I give him a small smile. “Okay.”
He responds by crushing his lips down onto mine. Drawing my body closer, my breasts flatten against the solid wall of his chest. My arms automatically loop around his neck.
All too soon, he breaks the kiss.
“How much work do you have to finish up tonight?”
“Not much,” I lie.
Hunger ignites in his eyes. “Good.”
Hands linked, we quickly stride up the last block. Mikey, the weekend doorman, opens the heavy glass door as we approach. His eyes twinkle as he watches us step into the lobby. As we head toward the elevator, I see Chloe at the front desk. Our gazes collide before hers dart to the man at my side.
“Chloe! What are you doing here?”
Eyes on Matteo, her face pales. Then she looks at me. For an uncomfortable moment, she doesn’t say a word. None of us do.
My brows knit together as I try to figure out why she’s acting so odd.
“Chloe?”
She shakes herself out of the mental stupor she’s fallen into and forces a tight-lipped smile. It doesn’t reach her eyes.
When she remains quiet, I ask, “Is everything okay?” I’ve never seen her this edgy and tense before. I don’t know what to make of it.
“What? Oh, um, everything’s fine. I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by.” Again, her green eyes shift to Matteo before moving back to mine. “Obviously, you’re busy.” She shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “I should have texted first. I didn’t realize…” Her face colors as she takes a step toward the door. “I better get going. Call me later, okay?”
Before I can introduce her to Matteo, she flies out the door. I frown. I have no idea why she acted so strangely. You’d think Chloe would be ecstatic to meet someone I’m spending time with. But that wasn’t the case at all. It’s like she couldn’t get away from me fast enough.
“I take it that was a friend of yours?”
“Um, yes. My best friend, Chloe.” I’ve told him all about her. Since this is potentially turning out to be more than just sex, I would have liked to introduce them. I want Matteo to meet the people who are important to me.
Guess it will have to happen another time.
Matteo lifts my hand to his mouth and presses a light kiss against it. “Ready to head upstairs?”
My heart melts at such a sweet gesture.
“Yes.”
As we board the elevator, he reels me to him. All thoughts of Chloe disappear in the blink of an eye as we head up to our floor.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Hey, thanks for meeting me,” Chloe mutters.
I can tell something is wrong because Chloe is abnormally subdued. Hoping I’m just reading into things that aren’t there, I smile. “Of course!” I set my purse down on the table. “I’m glad you could get away from work for a quick lunch.”
She doesn’t smile. “Me, too.” In fact, she avoids eye contact.
We slide into opposite sides of the booth near a window that overlooks the busy street. Cars and people race past. A waitress stops by with a pitcher of water and takes our order. Feeling concerned, I watch as Chloe fidgets with her phone.
I haven’t talked to Chloe in a few days. Since I didn’t get a lot completed over the weekend, I’ve spent Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday submerged in my coursework while trying to keep up with my volunteer schedule. Matteo has been tied up with his restaurants.
Which is probably for the best.
I don’t think I could handle having him around when I have so much reading to catch up on. His presence is distracting. I can’t focus when he’s anywhere near me.
Thinking about him puts a dreamy smile on my face. I can’t help it. The man makes me feel giddy. We have yet to label our relationship, but knowing I’m more than a booty call is enough for now. We agreed to take it slow and see where it goes.
After a few moments of silence, Chloe shifts in her seat. What’s going on with her? Ever since I ran into her at my building Sunday evening, she’s been acting strangely.
I don’t like the awkwardness between us. It feels foreign. When I first saw her after not speaking for two years, it didn’t feel this uncomfortable. “Chloe?” The growing silence continues to stretch my nerves to the breaking point. “What’s going on?”
I don’t expect the words that tumble from her lips.
“Are you seeing Matteo Valentini?”
Valentini?
Is that his last name? I didn’t know. I can’t remember if I asked that question while we were out walking Sunday afternoon.
Val-en-tini.
Slowly I repeat his last name in my mind.
Wait a minute…
I sit up a little straighter. “You know him?” I had the weirdest feeling when I saw her in the lobby that something was up. I assumed she was taken aback to see me with someone. Especially when I hadn’t mentioned it before.
>
I’m beginning to realize it’s more than that.
The way she keeps watching me and the cautious look in her eyes has all my muscles tensing up. Air gets clogged in my throat as I wait for her to drop a bomb.
Maybe Matteo is married.
Maybe he has a family tucked away in the suburbs.
I’m surprised when disbelieving laughter bursts from her lips. “Um, yeah. Everyone knows who Matteo Valentini is.”
I blink, trying to play mental catch-up. What am I missing here? It must be something huge from the way she’s behaving. “They do?”
Leaning toward me, Chloe says in a low voice, “He owns Covet.”
For a moment, I stare at her while processing that information. Details about the nightclub flood my brain. Each time I was there, he was as well. I thought it was a coincidence. Guess not.
I slowly say the words as if trying them on for size. “Matteo owns the place where you work?”
Eyes wide, she nods. “Yeah.”
My mind whirls. “But he didn’t know who you were the other day.” He looked right at her and didn’t say a word. At least he pretended not to have a clue. The pit of my belly tightens. Would he do that?
“I’ve only been working there for a few months. And it’s just a couple times a week. He owns the place, but a manager handles the staff. We see Matteo around the club, but he rarely deals with personnel issues. He leaves that to Rocco.”
I shake my head, trying to absorb what she just told me.
Is this discovery really that big of a deal?
No. Although I don’t understand why Matteo didn’t tell me himself when we talked the other day.
“Okay. So, he owns a nightclub, a few restaurants, and some commercial real estate.”
Blowing out an exasperated sigh, she whispers harshly, “Grace, the Valentini family owns half the damn city of Chicago.”
Needing to distance myself from her and this conversation, I sit all the way back against the padded bench. “What are you talking about, Chloe?”
“Don’t you know who the Valentini family is?”
Protecting What's Mine Page 18
