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Before the kiss can go any further, Matteo pulls back, and the rejection leaves me feeling incomplete. But why? I don’t even know him. I don’t evenlikehim. Or am I just trying to convince myself of that?
Matteo’s fixed gaze has me questioning everything. His eyes are nearly black now, as his pupils have dilated, almost excluding the irises from his eyes completely. He has me pulled into him so closely, I can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he heaves for breath.
I study him, waiting for his next move when he pulls away, releasing me. He runs a hand through his hair before dismissing Father Barone. Turning back to me, he says, “I have to get going. I’m going to be late for a meeting.”
I’m sorry, what?
“You’re leaving?” I hate that my voice comes out more desperate than I intended it to, but I’m not sure how to take that kiss. HowIreacted. Howhereacted.
“Yes,” he says, making his way to his desk. I follow on his heels, brushing past an amused Enzo.
“Where are you going?” I ask him.
Sliding on his suit jacket, he turns around and snaps at me. “I didn’t realize I had to inform you of my whereabouts.”
“That’s not how I meant it,” I snap back.
He stalks around the desk and stops in front of me, making me crane my neck to hold eye contact with him. “This is nothing but a contract being fulfilled. You’re a businesstransaction, Luxtyn. Nothing else. Where I go—what I do—it doesn’t concern you.”
His face is expressionless even though something passes through his eyes as he speaks those words. It doesn’t matter, though, because he’s right. Iamnothing but a business transaction to him. Like he’s nothing but a business transaction to me. I’d be smart to remember that.
I step back. “You’re right,” I say, my eyes remain fixed on his. “I held up my end of the deal, so now it’s time for you to hold up yours.”
Matteo clenches his jaw before squaring his shoulders. He straightens his black suit jacket and buttons it. “I told you I’m a man of my word.”
He stalks toward the door but glances back at me one last time. “I’ll update you when I know more. Until then, Enzo will be your direct contact should you need anything.”
Before I can argue, he exits the office, leaving me alone with Enzo. Did he just force me to marry him and then pawn me off onto his brother? I shake my head. Fine. If that’s how he wants this marriage to go, then fine. A business transaction it is.
Enzo places a soft hand on my shoulder, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. “C’mon,” he says. I note the hint of sympathy in his tone. “I’ll take you back to the penthouse.”
I just nod as I think about how this morning went. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to think for a second this could ever be anything more than what he told me it was. If that’s how he wants to treat me, then fine, but he better remember he’s nothing but the same to me.
16
LUXTYN
Enzo and I make it back to Matteo’s penthouse in silence, and I’m thankful for that. I didn’t want to listen to anything he had to say about Matteo and me getting married or that stupid kiss we shared.
“Are you hungry?” Enzo asks as we walk off the elevator.
“Not really, but I could use some water. Possibly another coffee.” I’m still full from the breakfast he ordered earlier. He didn’t know what I liked, so he got every breakfast item you could think of. Pastries, eggs, bacon, sausage , bagels, fruit, yogurt, granola. And being that I’m an exceptional guest, I ate a little of everything. My stomach is still paying for that decision.
“Follow me to the kitchen,” he says as he leads me down the hall to the open room I got acquainted with earlier. Black cabinets with gold hardware line the walls, but the main attraction is the oversized marble island that sits in the middle of the brightly lit room.
Enzo grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and hands it to me before preparing my coffee.
“You don’t have to make my coffee, you know. I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.”
He turns the stove on to heat up the kettle before taking out the french press. Smirking, he asks, “Do you know how to use a french press?”
“I can figure it out.”
Pushing the contraption over to me, he responds, “Oh, I would love to see that.”
Rolling my eyes, I take the top off and am about to ask him where the coffee is, but he beats me to it, dropping the bag of whole beans in front of me.
These people grind their own coffee beans?
