Page 97 of Matteo

The witch laughs all the way inside.

I’m surprised by how much fun it is. The lesson involves making pasta, marina sauce, and tiramisu. Focusing on the pasta, I have my back to Amy when she lets out a cry of pain.

Christ, my heart is pounding so hard I can barely hear Amy explaining to the chef she forgot to use the potholder for the covered lid. I grasp her wrist and drag her to the sink, turning on the cold water. I’m examining the bright red line across her small palm.

“It’s not bad. No skin has broken. It’s a typical first-degree burn. There might be a blister.” I diagnose.

“Matteo, I’m fine. Please don’t fuss.”

I’m trying to keep a rein on the anger boiling through me at seeing her small hand red from the burn. She’s going to be fine, but the idea of her in pain is seriously fucking with my head. “We’re done. I don’t want you in the kitchen anymore. You could make the burn worse?—”

“No, please. I’m hungry. We were having fun. Matteo, please, can we stay?” Those chocolate eyes are wide and pleading.

Fuck. I can’t deny her a damn thing. “You have two choices. You sit and watch, or we leave.”

Her pretty little mouth opens to argue with me before she sees I’m not having it. Sighing, she gives in. “I’ll sit and watch, doctor.”

Amy

I’m a bad person. Matteo treating me like I’m so fragile I’m going to break any second all day isn’t something I should love as much as I do. Especially when the burn really isn’t that bad. It barely hurts enough for me to use the lidocaine he put on it the minute we got home.

The only thing I’m allowed to do is hold Layla. I should not enjoy this when he looks so tortured. No matter how often I tell him it doesn’t hurt, he refuses to hear it.

I’m yawning, ready for bed, when his cell phone rings. Since it’s almost ten thirty, we both jump. “Who is it?”

Checking the display, he frowns. “It’s Santos. If he forgot the time difference from Dallas to LA again, I’m kicking his ass.” He answers. “Hello?”

Since I’m in his lap while we watch television, I can hear everything when he mutes the sound.

“Hey, Matteo. I’m sorry for calling late. But I don’t know what to fucking do here. You busy?” The distress is clear in the man’s voice.

An eyebrow goes up at me in question. I nod and get off his lap. “Yeah, sure. Give me a minute to get into my office.”

Giving me a kiss on my cheek, “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t rush for me,” I assure him.

Almost thirty minutes later after yawning so often it’s causing tears to run down my face, I’m done waiting up. Since I prefer to take my shower at night, I figure it won’t hurt to start getting ready for bed.

I’m glad I do since I have time to take a shower and braid my hair before I hear the bedroom door open. I left the door to the bathroom open in case he wanted to join me, as he often has.

“Amy?” Uh oh, he’s not happy.

Walking out of the bathroom, I find I’m right. His frown is deep, and his eyes are almost a dark brown.

“Is Santos okay?”

“Santos is fine. What the hell? I told you I would help you tonight. Why didn’t you wait for me?” I blink, and he’s in front of me. My wrist is gently held fast in his hand as he studies my burn.

“Matteo, I told you. I’m fine. I did have to put the lidocaine on after I got in the shower. The water was a little too hot. But it’s fine. You were busy with Santos. I was really tired and wanted to go to bed.” The yawn is completely unplanned, forcing my jaw open so wide it aches.

Sighing, he cups my chin, running his thumb over my lips. “I’m sorry, mi amor. Let’s get you into bed.”

He catches the end of the belt around my waist from the robe and pulls it away. Gold flashes when he finds me naked. I can’t be this close to him without getting turned on. A moan escapes me as I sway.

His breath catches, but he steps away from me. “Sleep, you need sleep.”

I lift my hand, intent on touching him, only for him to take another step back. “Matteo?”

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