Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

M atteo

The next week is a little bit of heaven mixed with hell. Heaven, because Amy brings Layla and has lunch with me every day. I discover Amy's sarcastic sense of humor matches my own. And per her request, I share more about growing up and becoming a doctor. Although I want her to do all the talking so I can simply hear her voice.

I deserve the hell. It's of my own making for upsetting Amy with the whole date thing. No matter how many times I try to explain, the woman isn't looking for anything; she needs an escort to a work event. It was nothing—the woman was nothing to me.

Amy nods yet remains anxious and tense.

"I can't do it." I call my mom Friday after Amy asked multiple anxious questions about the woman during lunch. "Tell Melissa it isn't happening."

Her sigh is heavy. "Matthew, you must stick with the plan."

"Fuck the plan?—"

"Language, Matthew." Mom is stern. "Explain why you think it's a good idea to deviate from the plan."

Rolling my eyes, "I'm not okay with upsetting Amy. This date thing is upsetting her. She's miserable."

Another sigh. "Which is the entire point. Amy is understandably wary of becoming involved with anyone. It does not matter how many times you reassure her that she is acceptable as a potential partner. Her low self-esteem will not allow her to believe it until she sees we will take her as she is. Once she accepts it, she will also accept her own feelings for you."

I'm shaking my head. "I can't hurt her like this."

"Matthew, it is a shot. It stings, but the end is worth it." My mother throws back a saying I've used too damn often.

I want to argue. Only she's already hung up.

Fuck.

Melissa Hodge is a woman from old money. At thirty-two, she has heard her biological clock is ticking from her mother, father, big sister, younger sister, and even her family's cook.

The issue is she's a lesbian and doesn't want kids. She isn't going to come out to her parents because it would ruin their image. My mother found her escorts to work events to keep her family's hopes up and give her breathing room. Since I felt for the woman, and she understood it would only be a one-time thing, I agreed to escort her.

I was told it was for a company event. Too late, I realize I was lied to. It's something on the old money social calendar, which means cameras. She plays coy when the people behind the cameras ask questions. I play bored.

Exactly one hour after we walk through the door, we walk out. I'm pissed. I would never have done it if I knew there would be cameras. Melissa isn't happy. I don't give a fuck.

I drop a sullen Melissa at her home without escorting her to the door of her condo—something I've never done before.

I'm in a shit mood when I get home. Without thinking, I slam the door closed. I think we're both surprised to see each other. Amy is on the couch with a carton of ice cream, eating out of it with a spoon.

"Are you all right?" Amy asks with a frown across her brow. I hate the sight of it. Her lines are too damn deep there.

Sighing, I nod. I know it's not wise, except I need to be near her. I sit down heavily on the couch beside her. There's only maybe three or four inches between us. A small part of me exhales with relief when she covers those inches with concern as she presses against me. At that moment, all the frustration I'm feeling vanishes.

"My mother is a master manipulator. She said it was a work event. It wasn't. It was an old-money social calendar thing. If I'd known that, I wouldn't have agreed to it." I shake my head.

"Did you run into your mother there? How did she think you wouldn't be mad?" Amy is as surprised as I was.

"No, we only stayed for an hour. My mom hasn't been doing many old-money social things lately. The damage is done. Us together at an event like that meant serious. It's either a ring to follow or cohabitating. Since she's from an old family, it would have to be a ring. Since no ring will follow, I'll be labeled the asshole." As angry as I am, I don't feel comfortable telling Amy that Melissa is a lesbian. It's not my secret to tell.

"That's insane. I can't believe your mom did that to you. You weren't kidding when you said she's relentless." She takes a spoonful of ice cream. "I think I'm back to being afraid of her."

I nod. "She has her moments. I told you. Every brunch, or time I spend longer than twenty minutes with her, it's the same thing. Can I have some of that?" I nod at the ice cream.

"Sure," she hands me the carton and the spoon.

My cock goes hard at the idea of sharing a spoon with her.

"So your mom wants you with anyone—she doesn't care who it is? She would really be okay if it were me. If I agreed to…"

I go still. I don't dare let her see what the prospect of her playing a part that I want her to be for real and the rest of our lives does to me. "Despite her money, my mother isn't a snob. She cares more about a person's character than where they came from or the amount of money in their bank account. As I told you before, she was extremely hopeful you were my girlfriend. The only concern she expressed was how quickly our relationship moved."

She's pensive. I offer her the ice cream back. She takes it and the spoon. Spooning out another bite, she sucks on the spoon before giving it back to me. Sighing, she nods. "Okay, I'll pretend to be your girlfriend."

My cock jerks. I scoop a spoonful of ice cream and feed it to her. She blinks and accepts the ice cream. "Thank you. I understand it's not something you want to do. I appreciate it. I'll do my best to limit the time playing the role in front of my family. Nothing happens you feel uncomfortable with."

She sags into me with relief. "You make me feel safe. I never doubted it for a minute. It wasn't because of you…"

"I'm glad. I think it's a good idea to discuss what you are okay with ahead of time."

I offer another spoonful of ice cream. She accepts it with a smile and a small shrug. "What are you thinking?"

"Can I put my arm around you?" I hold my breath as I wait for her answer.

Her nod is hesitant. I slowly slide my arm around her, settling my hand on her shoulder. Everything in me screams in agony when she sinks into me. She takes the carton of ice cream and takes another spoonful. Once she's done, she scoops out some and holds it out to me. My whole body is hard for her.

"My brothers aren't overly affectionate with their wives but there are times when they kiss, nothing more than a press of the lips to a cheek or brow. Would that be okay?" I hold my breath.

She considers it for a moment that feels like an eternity. A moment in which she feeds me another spoonful. I take it. It might as well be dust until I know her answer.

Finally, she nods.

Air rushes into my desperate body. I steel myself—just one kiss. She's not ready for more. I press my lips to her pink cheek. She blushes easily. When she's really embarrassed, the pink goes all the way to her ears, like now. It's longer than it should be. Yet not as long as I wish it was before I pull away.

A breathy little moan escapes her—skittering down from my chest to my cock. I let my forehead fall against hers. Not daring to let her see how such a simple kiss is sweeter than every dream I've had of this moment, I close my eyes and simply savor the moment. A sigh chases away the dark. I open my eyes to find Amy fighting back a yawn.

"It's your bedtime," I whisper to her.

She shakes her head. "Five more minutes."

"Five more minutes. I want more ice cream."

Eyes glinting a soft chocolate, she gives me another spoonful of ice cream. We both sigh and close our eyes. And that's how we fall asleep.

I come awake when I feel something wet on my side. What the hell? I'm lying on the couch with my feet hanging off the end. Amy is in my arms on top of me, her head on my chest. The wet is from the remaining ice cream spilling onto me from the carton.

I'm able to snag the carton and place it on the floor. Shit, I hope it doesn't ruin the carpet.

I should get up and carry her to her own bed. If not for her, then my back. Except I don't want to. Amy is asleep in my arms, and I'm not giving that up. I'm going to savor this moment.

Worry hits me she'll be cold. I manage to pull off the throw blanket from the back of the couch and spread it out over her. When she begins to move, I go still. Only when she doesn't wake up do I give in, wrapping my arms around her. I want to hold on to this moment for as long as I can but I'm asleep in minutes.

Amy

A beeping urges me awake from the best dream of my life. My bed moves. What?

I'm on top of Matteo. Oh my god. I meet golden eyes watching me in bemusement.

"Morning. Sorry about my alarm." He's apologizing to me ?

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I try to push off him and almost fall.

He catches me. Slowly and carefully, he sits up. The moment he lets go of me, I scramble off his lap to the corner of the couch. "Hey, don't say you're sorry. I should be apologizing. Sometime in the night, I woke up. I should have carried you to bed then. I was worried I couldn't manage to get you to bed without waking you up and messing with your sleep, so I didn't."

"There's ice cream on your shirt. Oh shit. Will it come out? Ah crap, it's on the rug." I fell asleep holding the ice cream carton.

Last night comes rushing back to me. For a split second after he slammed the door when he came home, I was scared. Then he saw me, and his whole face changed—the very air around him changed. And he was back to being the gentle and sweet Matteo.

When he sat down on the couch close enough to touch those bees swarmed me all over again. They were angry, desperate for him. If I touched him, they would calm—I knew they would. So I allowed the honey flowing in my bloodstream to allow me to melt away those few inches that separated us and sunk into his hard body. Nothing had ever felt as right as Matteo's body against mine.

When he explained why he was upset, I couldn't believe what his mom did to him. She was going to keep pushing until he gave in. What if he fell in love with the next one? Fear of losing Matteo had the words coming out of me—I would pretend to be his girlfriend.

There was something in his golden eyes that stilled the rioting bees. That made me want to admit I didn't want to pretend. Only my tongue was tied up in knots.

He fed me ice cream. I fed him ice cream. He asked if he could put his arm around me. Everything in me screamed yes, but all I could do was nod. Then he did it and I sunk into him like there were no bones in my body. He asked me if he could kiss me, just small kisses—the kind he would only give me in front of his family.

I wondered if he could hear my heart pounding because it was all I heard in my ears when I said yes. He kissed me. It was only the press of his lips to my cheek, but that simple touch changed me on a cellular level.

He's rewritten my DNA with only his lips pressing to my cheek. Okay, maybe it wasn't my DNA. At the very least, it's everything I believed was possible. All those times I thought I was crazy, his thumb on my lips, him brushing my hair then holding me after, the good girl moment. I wasn't crazy—Matteo wanted me.

It doesn't matter I'm a former foster kid with a druggie mother who overdosed. The fact I didn't graduate high school until I was almost twenty didn't matter to him. My community college associate's degree I didn't get until I was twenty-five. He wanted me despite all the reasons why he shouldn't.

I can't believe it. He's beyond out of my league. What could he want with me? Now that I'm thinking of it—I'm not sure. His mom played him. Maybe I'm wrong, and he doesn't want me.

What if it's only about sex—because I'm here? There's no way he could really want me for more. I'm someone to keep his mom off his back. Except for the kiss… Fuck, I'm getting a headache.

"Amy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm?—"

Oh shit, he's genuinely remorseful. I need to know. I have to know. I'm unable to hold it in a second longer. I blurt out the question. "Can I get the number for the housekeeper you had in Baltimore?"

Matteo freezes. "Denise? Why?"

It takes a minute to think of a good reason. Forcing a shrug, "I meant to ask before. There were a few questions I had about housekeeping in general."

The frown on his forehead is deep and then gone. "Sure. I'll text you her number."

"Thanks. I'm going to jump in the shower and get dressed before Layla wakes up to go to your family brunch." I force myself not to run for my room. My phone pings with a text before I close the door.

I call the woman. My stomach is twisting with knots as I wait for her to answer.

"Hello?" Her voice is deep. It sounds like she's older.

"Hi, my name is Amy Goff. I'm Matteo Castillo's new housekeeper. I was hoping to ask you a few questions. If it's okay with you?"

She's quiet for what feels like forever before she finally laughs. "Matteo, god I miss him. How is he doing? Best damn boss you'll ever have. A real sweetheart. The man gives a shit—too much, I thought sometimes. I'll be happy to answer any questions you have."

"Did he really buy you a car? How did that…"

Another laugh. "He sure as hell did. I was running myself ragged after my minivan died on me. Since I was only working for him about a year, I was scared he'd fire me for not having my own vehicle no more. I was still working part-time as a CNA and going to school to get my nursing degree. He was the easiest part of my day. It wasn't nothing to shop for him and clean up after him since he was never home. And the pay was damn good for it."

I sag onto the bed in relief.

"Public transportation in Baltimore is better than most cities. It's also a pain in the ass. Finally had to admit to him I didn't have a car no more when he asked me to get something on the other side of the city. It would've taken half the day to get up there and back."

Thank fucking god.

"Anyway, he gets all mad at me. He leaves the hospital in the middle of the day and orders me to be at his house. I'm thinking he's gonna fire my ass, and he wanted his keys. I get there and tells me to get in his car. Doesn't say nothing the whole drive. I'm too scared to ask questions. We roll up on a dealership for Honda. I tried to tell him I'd be good with a Chevy or something, but he told me no. He'd read reports the Honda Odyssey was safer. To think of my boys."

I press my hand to my chest. It's so Matteo that I can practically hear him saying it.

"As happy as I was at getting a new car, I was worried. How was I gonna pay him back? He gets all offended. It was a part of the job for me to run his errands and handle his business. The same way he provides the vacuum to clean up, he's going to get me a vehicle. He doesn't want to hear nothing about me paying him back. There wouldn't be a bonus at Christmas time like he did before. He gave me five grand in cash at the beginning of December because there were five people in my house to buy gifts for. My mother lives with me, so me, her, and my three boys. I said I was good with that."

I've heard everything I need to hear, but I let her keep talking.

"He tells them we're there to get a new minivan for me. Since he's paying cash, he doesn't want no bullshit haggling. They showed us what they had in stock. And he paid for it then and there. When I finished signing all the paperwork, he told me to get back to work. I tried to thank him again, but he didn't want to hear it. He's a good man. A real good man. Saved me from my dick of an ex-husband too." She sighs heavily.

I freeze. "How did he save you?"

Another sigh. "We was married, but I kicked him out going on five years. I didn't have the money for no divorce. Then the bastard went and stole my tax return. Seven thousand dollars, if he'd been in front of me—I'd be in jail right now. I finally said that's it. I was going to divorce him and put his ass on child support. I didn't expect nothing from child support. I wanted him hurting the way he hurt me and his kids. Anyway, I asked Matteo if he knew any good lawyers to go to. Two months later, I'm divorced, and he's on child support. Matteo never let me pay or worry about nothing."

The knots in my stomach unfurl. I was terrified that the car and clothes and taking care of me and Layla came with a price after all.

"Was there anything else you wanna know?" The question pulls me away from my head.

"No, thank you. I appreciate you taking the time. Great person to work for, got it. Thanks."

"He sure is. All right now. You have a good day and tell him I miss him."

"I will," I promise.

I end the call and stare at the phone. She was a lot like me. A woman with kids who needed help. Matteo gave it to her without asking for anything back. I'm even more confused than I was before I called her. He hadn't done a thing for me he hadn't done for her—I mean, he didn't bring her into his home. But he did it for others often, so it wasn't special for me.

He wasn't going to use the things he bought or did as a means to get me to be with him. There was bound to be some kind of attraction when two people were in close proximity to each other. I mean, I want him too—when I thought I'd never want another man again.

Do I want him because he's here or… I shake my head. For me, it's not because he's available. It's the crazy electricity every time we touch. The way his eyes go gold when he looks at me. It's how gentle and thoughtful he is with me and Layla. There are so many things I can't list them all out—it would take hours, and I would be hoarse.

Squeezing my eyes closed, shame hits me hard. I'm a bad person. I knew he woke up in the middle of the night. Because I did, too.

I woke up and wondered if I was dreaming again, having the best damn dream in the world. Only I realized I wasn't when his breathing changed. I should have gotten off him right then. Except I didn't. I lay there while he covered me with the throw blanket. Then fell right back asleep with the sound of his heart pounding beneath my ear.

It was wrong of me not to get off him when I woke up. Or maybe this is one of those few times where two wrongs—both of us not getting up—make an amazing right? Is it so bad if neither one of us…

Through my door, I hear Matteo greeting Layla. I back away from the door, terrified he'll somehow hear my thoughts. No, that's the guilt. The guilt of not admitting I woke up too. Because I'm afraid he'll figure out I want him…wait. If he wants me and I want him, how is it a bad thing?

I don't have the strength to love him and lose him. If it's only because I'm convenient, I couldn't do it. I'm not built for just sex. The pretending is going to be bad enough. I said yes, hoping it could become real. Maybe he would really want me as his girlfriend and then maybe one day for forever.

What if I gave in? Could wanting grow to love?

Hearing Layla laughing gets me moving. I don't have time for this. I'll figure it out later.

I speed through my shower. Once I'm out, I use a hair dryer brush I found online as an amazing tool to dry long hair. I've used it once already and love it. I look like I actually know what I'm doing with my hair.

In the walk-in closet, I find a long-sleeve, maroon shirt dress that goes to just below my knees. I love how it's fine cotton throughout the body and silk along the hem and the collar. The only shoes I think go with it are the black ballet flats. In the mirror, I sigh. I barely recognize the woman in the mirror—in the best way possible.

I find Matteo putting together Layla's diaper bag. Layla is in her high chair, playing with a toy. When Matteo sees me, he straightens.

His eyes widen and go gold. "Hi, you're…beautiful."

"Thank you." I blush at his sincerity. No one has ever called me beautiful before.

Layla sees me, and she waves. "Mama."

"Hi, baby. That's hilarious. You cut out the middle of a kitchen towel?"

"I was worried about her getting her dress dirty. Of course, it's the first morning when she doesn't get messy." His eyes narrow on me. "Did you talk to Denise?"

My stomach twists as I nod. "Yes, she said to tell you that she misses you."

He's waiting as though he expects me to say more. Sighing, he nods. "I'll hand her off. She had oatmeal and ate it all. I have a bottle of water and some formula in her bag in case she needs a bottle while we're gone. Anything else you think she'll need feel free to add."

"Okay."

I'm wrong for watching his ass as he walks away.

He takes a lot less time than I did. Damn, he's gorgeous in black slacks and a dark gray, thin cashmere sweater. When I was in his closet collecting the clothes from the hamper, I couldn't stop from checking out his clothes. The sweaters he has were hung oddly. Out of curiosity, I checked them out. They are all either cashmere or cotton—most were cashmere. Rich, rich.

"I'll get her if you'll take the diaper bag."

"Okay," I take the bag from him.

"Do you want to drive, and we'll take your vehicle? Or do you want me to drive my car?" He asks.

I'm surprised he gives me an option. I do love that he made sure there was a car seat in his car. "Yours and you drive, please."