Page 24 of His Tesoro

I returned to the kitchen and took a few minutes to set up my phone. Maybe I could buy a case for it. I’d seen some cute ones online.

Once it was all set up, I dialed Mila’s number. We kept the phone on silent to prevent anyone finding it and punishing us, so I squeezed my eyes shut, praying she would answer.

“Hello?” Mila sounded slightly out of breath. Hearing her voice made tears spring to my eyes.

“Mila,” I choked out.

“Oh my God, Sofiya! I’ve been waiting and hoping you would call. Are you okay? I miss you so much.”

“I miss you, too,” I said with a sniff. I pulled a paper towel from under the sink and wiped my tears.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice was fierce and I could picture her expression, how that little line between her eyebrows appeared when she was stressed.

“I’m just happy to hear your voice. I’m totally fine, promise. I have a new phone, so we can talk whenever we want.”

“Fuck, I’ve been driving Nikolai crazy worrying about you. How’s your husband? Is he treating you okay? Did you, you know… do it?”

My cheeks heated. “Matteo is… I don’t know, confusing?” I said, sidestepping her question. “Not like I have much experience with men, but he’s really hard to read. I don’t think he likes me very much.” I pulled out a bag of chocolate chips from the pantry. All my father’s staff raved about my chocolate chip cookies, so it felt like a safe thing to start with. And there was a stand mixer in the kitchen, which meant I wouldn’t strain my wrist mixing the dough.

There was a beat of silence before Mila responded. “What makes you say that? Has he hurt you?”

“No, not at all. But he said he just wants us to live as roommates. He’s gone most of the time and we have separate rooms.” I wasn’t about to tell her about my idiotic misunderstanding—how I’d cowered in my bedroom for a full day out of fear of punishment. It was pathetic.

I also wasn’t about to share how Matteo’s hands had lingered on my skin in the gym… or our middle-of-the-night roof conversation.

I could practically hear Mila’s chaotic thoughts. “Do you want to just be roommates?”

I pulled eggs and butter from the fridge. “I don’t really have a choice. Maybe this isn’t the life I would have chosen, but it’s not bad. Matteo has been… nice.” I cringed, pressing my face into my hands.

“Nice? The head of the Mafia is nice?”

“Okay, that’s a bad word to describe him. But he hasn’t said anything cruel.” I glanced at the kitchen island, remembering how Matteo had been worried I would topple over if he let go of me as I sat on the countertop. For a second, I’d even imagined some sort of spark between us.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Mila asked, suspicious.

“Nothing,” I said too quickly. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“Uh huh… So, what are you doing now?”

I sighed with relief that she wasn’t pushing it. “I thought I would make some cookies. And then maybe something Italian for dinner.”

“Dinner and dessert. It sounds like you’re trying to impress your husband.”

I stayed silent as my cheeks burned.

“Sofiya!” Mila gasped. “You are. I knew it.” The excitement was palpable in her voice and reminded me she was only nineteen. “I bet he’s more than nice to you. He’s too freaking hot to be your roommate.”

I huffed. “He’s not interested in me that way.”

“You can’t possibly think that I’d believe that.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you. He’s been very clear.” Except for when he wasn’t. Like when he carried me, or looked angry hearing how my father had treated me, or sat with me on the roof.

Before Mila could say anything else and add to the confusion I was already feeling, I changed the subject. “Have you heard from Dimi?”

Mila sighed, seeing straight through my deflection, but she answered anyway. “No.”

“Do you think he’s okay?”

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