As we race away in the car, a storm of anger and fear swells inside me. How could she be so reckless? How could she risk everything like that?
When the empty road stretches before us, I slam on the brakes, my heart pounding in my chest. I throw the...
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As Chiara enters the dining room wearing nothing but my shirt, something raw stirs deep within me. The sight of her, so vulnerable yet so alluring, ignites a primal urge to claim her as my own. But I shake my head, banishing the thought. I hate her, I remind myself. I can't let myself be swayed by her.
The glances my men are giving her only serve to fuel my irritation. With a curt command, I order them to leave, unwilling to subject Chiara to their unwelcome scrutiny.
Once they've cleared out, I turn to Chiara, gesturing for her to stay put. With a quick call to Evangeline, I arrange for some dresses to be sent up to her. I know she loves to push my buttons, and the last thing I need is her wandering around my mansion in nothing but my shirt.
Returning to the dining hall, I find Chiara in the kitchen, a smirk playing on her lips as she rummages through the cabinets. "I'll cook for you," I announce, hoping to diffuse the tension between us.
She looks up at me, her expression dripping with sarcasm. "How thoughtful," she replies, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "I can't wait to see what delicacies you have in store for me."
I grit my teeth, suppressing the urge to snap at her. Instead, I take a deep breath, reminding myself to stay calm. This woman may infuriate me to no end, but I won't let her get the best of me. Not this time.
As Chiara sat perched on one of the counter chairs, her presence illuminated the kitchen like a burst of sunlight on a cloudy day. I couldn't help but notice the way her eyes sparkled with mischief as she observed me pulling out the pancake batter.
"You're cooking for me now?" she teased, a playful lilt in her voice.
I chuckled, pouring the batter onto the hot griddle. "Consider it a peace offering," I replied, flashing her a small smile.
As I served her a stack of pancakes, I couldn't ignore the way her fingers brushed mine, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through me. She reached for the Nutella jar, her movements graceful yet somehow careless. Before I could react, she slipped from the chair, and instinctively, I reached out to catch her.
"Can't you be careful?" I chided, but my words faltered as our faces drew impossibly close. Time seemed to stand still as we locked eyes, the air between us crackling with unspoken tension.
Just as our lips hovered tantalizingly close, a throat clearing shattered the moment. We both pulled away abruptly, turning to see Nonna Ava, my cook, standing in the doorway with a knowing smirk.
"Ah, young love," she said with a wink, her Italian accent thick and melodious.
Chiara's cheeks flushed crimson, a stark contrast against her porcelain skin. I cleared my throat awkwardly, realizing the absurdity of the situation. "Nonna Ava, this is Chiara. Chiara, Nonna Ava," I introduced, my voice betraying none of the turmoil swirling inside me.
Nonna Ava's smirk widened, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Piacere di conoscerti, Chiara," she said warmly, extending a hand. (Pleasure to meet you, Chaira)
Chiara nodded, her embarrassment evident as she murmured a polite greeting. I quickly excused myself, the need to escape the awkwardness overwhelming. As I retreated to my office, I couldn't shake the memory of our almost-kiss, the taste of what could have been lingering on my lips like a bittersweet promise.
As Matteo stepped into my office, I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over me. His presence provided a much-needed anchor in the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me. Yet, even as he delivered the news about Fiona's safety, I couldn't shake the nagging doubt that tugged at the corners of my mind.
"Fiona is safe in my apartment," Matteo stated matter-of-factly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
I raised an eyebrow, a flicker of confusion clouding my thoughts. "And why is that?" I questioned, my tone laced with suspicion.
Matteo shrugged nonchalantly, as if the answer were inconsequential. "Just thought she could use a safe place to lay low for a while," he replied casually, his expression unreadable.
I couldn't help but feel a surge of frustration at his cryptic response. But before I could press him further, Matteo shifted gears, steering the conversation toward the events of the morning.
"So, about that eventful breakfast," Matteo began, his voice laced with curiosity. "I heard the men were asked to leave. What's happening, boss?"
I paused, the weight of his question settling heavily on my shoulders. Even I didn't have a clear answer to that. The truth was, I didn't understand what was happening to me, to us, to this strange dynamic that had developed between Chiara and me.
"I... I don't know," I admitted, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "It's complicated."
As Matteo left my office, I was left alone with my thoughts once more. How could I be feeling these conflicting emotions toward someone I claimed to hate? It was a distraction I couldn't afford, especially in my line of work. Yet, as much as I try to deny it, there was an undeniable pull, a magnetic force drawing me toward Chiara despite my better judgment.
I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair in frustration. This was a dangerous game, one that could cost me everything if I wasn't careful. But even as I tried to push her from my mind, her presence lingered like a ghost, haunting me with the possibility of something more.
Maybe, just maybe, there was a part of me that yearned for something more. But for now, I would bury those thoughts deep within, locking them away behind the steel walls of my resolve.
