Page 20 of His Tesoro

When I could no longer ignore the pain in my knees, I flopped down on one of the couches. I didn’t dare try to start a fire—I’d probably burn the entire building down—but as I snuggled deeper underneath my fleece blanket, I imagined being up here with Matteo with a fire going. We could make s’mores—it was one of the items on my Dream List.

I sighed, my eyes falling shut. Here, surrounded by the tall New York City buildings, the faint sounds of the street below, my list felt incredibly childish. I felt incredibly childish. Even though I’d grown up in the Pakhan’s home, I was so freaking sheltered. Women didn’t have agency in the Bratva, and my disability had made them treat me even more like a child.

Or a prisoner.

Mila’s words came back to me—you’re too sweet for your own good. I needed to grow a backbone. Be stronger. I hadn’t left this apartment yet, but I knew I would, eventually. Matteo wanted a queen, whatever that meant. He’d definitely picked the wrong bride if he wanted someone powerful by his side. I’d spent the past few years practicing being invisible and making myself small. It made me less of a target.

But maybe it also made me less of a person.

Like I’d slowly stripped myself of all humanity.

I only ever let myself be genuine with Mila and Dimi. Those were the only moments I felt real, felt strong.

When I teased Mila about her million TV crushes.

Taking care of her when she came back drunk after sneaking out to some party.

Forcing our bodyguard, Nikolai, to watch girly rom-coms with us.

Going out to the gun range with Dimi. Feeling powerful with a weapon in my hands as I hit the target.

These days, my primary emotion was fear, but I wanted to feel more. This new life with Matteo, this sham marriage, wasn’t what I would have chosen, but I needed to make the best of it. And that required taking inspiration from Mila’s bravery.

I was lost in thought when the sound of someone clearing their voice cut through the quiet. I jolted on the couch and let out a little shriek before I saw Matteo standing before me.

“Oh, hi,” I choked out. I wanted to smack myself for sounding so squeaky and breathy. Way to be strong, Sofiya.

The string lights illuminated Matteo’s hard jaw and the way his dark, long-sleeved tee stretched across his broad chest. His sweatpants sat low on his hips, and I quickly brought my eyes back to his.

He wasn’t saying anything. He just stood there, his piercing gaze fixed on me.

I fought against the urge to apologize for being up here. He had told me I was allowed to explore the apartment. He hadn’t said the roof was off-limits. If he wanted to be alone, he could leave. The petty part of me said I was here first.

“How did you get up here?” he asked.

“I levitated.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. I held my breath as I waited for his response to my sarcasm, but his face remained blank. I tried to match his expression, staring him down without blinking, but I quickly caved. “I took the stairs.”

“Hmm,” was his only response before he sat down across from me.

My chest was bursting with relief and excitement. I was starved for company, and he was choosing to be here with me.

“No walker, then?”

I cocked my head. “It would be a bit hard to use on the stairs.”

Matteo nodded, gazing out at the city, ice clinking in his drink in his hand. He looked deep in thought, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. I wrapped my blanket tighter around myself and watched as he rubbed his thumb across his lips. Something sparked low in my stomach.

I didn’t look away.

“Why are you up so late?” he finally asked, sipping his drink.

I chewed my lip, wondering what to tell him. “A nightmare,” I finally admitted.

“Something we have in common.”

I blinked, shocked that he had revealed something personal about himself. The way his fingers clenched around his drink told me he was just as surprised as I was.

“I’m sorry you have nightmares,” I said, my voice almost a whisper.

---