Page 105 of Fire and Silk
I look back at her. Bare. Fragile in ways she doesn’t mean to show. The lines of her body still warm from my hands, but colder now without them.
“Do you love him?” I ask.
Her mouth trembles. Not a twitch—something smaller.
“You’re the one who made it clear,” she says, stepping back further. “This is strategy. You said it yourself.”
She reaches for the robe on the chair, pulls it over her shoulders.
“We’re using each other,” she says. “Aren’t we?”
I should speak. Should push.
Instead, I nod .
Calm. Even.
“Do you love him?” I ask again.
She looks at me like I’ve missed the point.
“Isn’t this for show?” she asks. “Weren’t we supposed to keep feelings out of it?”
The silence isn’t long. It’s sharp.
I chuckle. Dry. Nothing amused in the sound.
I step back, turn toward the hallway. My hand finds the door handle.
“I’ll sleep in the guest room,” I say.
She doesn’t answer.
I open the door.
Half of me waits. Just long enough for footsteps. For breath. For her voice.
Nothing.
I leave.
The hallway is dim. Lights from the sconces cast long shadows over the marble.
I walk past the study, down two turns, then stop in front of Matteo’s door.
I knock.
There’s a rustle. Footsteps. The door creaks open.
Matteo blinks at me—bare chest, sweatpants low on his hips, hair flattened on one side. He looks like he fell asleep five minutes ago and is already regretting waking up.
“You’re in bed,” I say, stepping past him.
“I was.”
I walk straight to the far side of the room and drop onto his bed, arms behind my head.
He closes the door with a muttered curse and follows. The mattress dips as I stretch out.
