Page 21 of His Tesoro

He took another sip of his drink. “What are yours about?”

My mind flitted to my most recent dream. They were always the same—me, helpless and unable to move while the people I loved were harmed. I’d watched Dimi get shot, Mila sliced to pieces more times than my heart could take. No matter what I did to save them, I could never move. I was always stuck, trapped inside a frozen body that couldn’t even crawl to them.

Tonight’s nightmare had been the same, except this time, it was Matteo in front of me. A masked figure had dragged a knife across his bare chest as I screamed. I’d woken with his name on my lips.

“The people I care about getting hurt,” I finally said. “What about you?”

I was sure he wouldn’t answer, but after a few long moments, his words came, so soft I almost couldn’t believe I hadn’t imagined them. “The same.”

We held each other’s gaze and something shifted in the air between us.

The darkness wrapped around us like a blanket, cloaking us in a secret cocoon. This moment between us had an air of un-realness, as if the rays of the rising sun would wash it all away. But I wouldn’t forget it—his intent gaze, the electricity between us. I would treasure this memory as the first time I didn’t feel alone in my new life.

We would never be lovers. He had made that clear. But maybe we could be friends.

I shivered, and it broke the spell between us.

Matteo cleared his throat. “It’s cold. You should go inside.”

What would it be like for him to join me on the couch, to wrap his arms around me and warm me with his body? To feel the press of his lips against mine, but this time without an audience?

A pang of sadness squeezed my heart at the thought of what I’d never have. “We should probably both try to get some sleep.”

He stood, glancing back over his shoulder at the fire escape. “I’ll carry you down.”

“I can manage it.” I didn’t know what I wanted more—to assert my ability to handle a flight of stairs or to be pressed tight against my husband’s chest again.

I pushed to my feet. An icy breeze whipped across the rooftop and chills wracked my body.

“I won’t have you injure yourself,” Matteo said.

“I won’t.” I tightened my hold on the blanket and walked to the stairs. My knees ached, but I kept going.

I would show him I was capable.

I would show myself.

He didn’t rush me, didn’t comment on how slowly I moved. When we got to the window, he pushed it open for me. His hand brushed against my back as I clumsily crawled inside. Matteo followed, somehow looking graceful as he went through the window.

I caught a hint of his scent—leather and rain—and I fought the urge to press my face into his chest. I must be more tired than I thought.

My blanket slipped, and Matteo moved it back up my shoulder. His touch lingered, and then he inhaled sharply and turned away, heading back to his room.

13

MATTEO

Isat down on my bed, my head in my hands. I’d followed my wife up to the roof, and then I’d run away like a coward at the sight of her bare shoulder.

Fuck, I was such an idiot.

A phone notification from my alarm system had pulled me from my fitful sleep, showing that the window to the fire escape had been opened.

Prowling through the dark apartment to the roof had been the perfect distraction from the unceasing thoughts in my mind—thoughts of Arben and the Albanians, the health of our investments, the new soldiers entering our ranks…

But nothing could distract me from thoughts of my wife.

I stood up with a groan. I couldn’t be here anymore—in this apartment, near Sofiya. I got dressed and headed downstairs to my office.

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