Page 32 of Tension
He turns and walks toward Yvonne, who doesn’t move as he passes her. Her gaze lingers on me, her brows knitting together in a silent question I don’t have the answer to. The weight ofher stare feels like a judgment, though I’m not sure who she’s judging more: him or me.
I stand there, frozen, as the two of them disappear into the party. My hand drifts to my lips, the ghost of his touch still burning against my skin. The knot inside my chest tightens, and for the first time in a long while, I’m not sure what I’m doing anymore.
TWELVE
Vaeda
The penthouse feels cavernous now that the guests are gone. The jazz trio’s instruments have been packed away, the chatter and clinking glasses replaced with silence that settles heavily over the space. I’m alone. Even Gerardo, ever the social butterfly, has gone out dancing with a few friends, his parting kiss on my cheek a reminder that he’s always the one to extend the night.
I stayed behind. My excuse had been exhaustion, the weight of hosting a party this grand, but the truth is, I’m not tired. I’m restless, my thoughts tangled and uneasy.
I watched them leave. Mateo and Yvonne. She’d looped her arm through his, her laugh light and carefree as they stepped into the elevator with Adam and Kari, but it was his gaze that lingered, his eyes locking with mine for a moment too long as the doors slid shut. There was something in his expression that sent a shiver down my spine. He let his guard down, just for that moment, and I saw the feral need emanating from his eyes.
I lean against the closed door, the last few stragglers having just left, their laughter echoing faintly in the hallway before fading completely. The lock clicks into place, and I let out a long breath, pressing my forehead against the cool wood.
What am I doing?
The question circles in my mind, a relentless whisper that refuses to be silenced. I’m married. I’m his instructor. I’m supposed to be a professional, someone who holds herself to a standard. Yet every time Mateo looks at me, every time we’re in the same room, it’s as though the ground shifts beneath my feet.
The memory of his touch, the accidental brush of his lips earlier at the party, is still fresh. My skin tingles where his hands steadied me, and I feel the heat rising to my cheeks even now. How did I let it get this far? How did I let myself…
A loud knock at the door jolts me from my thoughts. My heart jumps, the sound reverberating through the quiet. For a moment, I straighten, staring at the door as if it might open on its own.
Another knock, firmer this time.
I swallow hard, my pulse racing as I push away from the door and reach for the handle. When I pull it open, the breath catches in my throat.
Mateo stands there, his suit jacket gone, the crisp white shirt he’d worn earlier now slightly rumpled. His tie is loosened, and his dark hair is mussed, as though he’d run his hands through it one too many times. His cheeks are red from the cold and his expression is unreadable, his dark eyes shadowed in the dim light of the hallway.
“Mateo,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper. “What are you…”
“I needed to talk to you,” he interrupts, his tone quiet but resolute. “And luckily, you don’t live too far from me.”
I glance down the empty hallway, my mind scrambling for an explanation, an excuse to send him away, but when I look back at him, the intensity of his gaze roots me to the spot.
“It’s late,” I say, though the words feel hollow even as I speak them.
“Where’s your husband?” He’s still standing on the threshold, not quite inside but refusing to back away too. I wonder what he would do if Gerardo was home. Would he continue to stand there, invading every one of my senses?
“He went out with a few friends. He’s always been a bit of a partyer.” The explanation falls from my lips to fill the nervous space between us. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I know,” he replies, stepping forward just enough to close the distance between us. “But I couldn’t sleep without saying this.”
“Mateo…” I start, but he shakes his head, cutting me off again.
“Please.” His voice softens, the vulnerability in it making my chest tighten. “Just let me say this.”
I hesitate, my hand still gripping the edge of the door. Then slowly, I step back, allowing him to enter. He moves past me, his presence filling the room in a way that feels far too significant. I close the door behind him, the click of the latch sounding louder than it should.
He turns to face me, his hands shoved into his pockets, his shoulders stiff. “I don’t know what’s happening,” he admits, his eyes steady on mine. “But I can’t stop thinking about you. About us.”
My heart pounds inside my chest, the weight of his words settling heavily between us. “Mateo,” I groan, forcing my voice to remain calm. “There is no ‘us.’ This can’t… It can’t happen.”
“Why not?” he asks, his tone tinged with frustration. “Because of Gerardo? Because you’re my instructor? If he truly is your person, our feelings wouldn’t have happened. You being my instructor was fate.”
“Stop,” I grind out firmly, crossing my arms over my chest as if to shield myself. “We can’t let this go any further. I love Gerardo, and I love teaching you, but whatever is building between us stops tonight because it’s wrong.”
He takes a step closer, and I feel the pull of him like gravity, impossible to resist. “It doesn’t feel wrong to me.” His voice drops to a whisper. “It feels real, and I think it feels real to you too.”
