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Chapter Thirty

"I'm sorry, I thought we'd be somewhere by now," I complain, gesturing to the large roadblock before us. We've been in the same spot for fifteen minutes and I've watched Matteo grow more uneasy as the seconds tick by in awkward silence, with only Sia to fill the air. "I knew I should have taken 31st street."

"No, it's alright," he reassures me, leaning his head back on the seat. My gaze falls over his body, his shaking hands against his lap. They move slowly into a fist and I look back to the steering wheel, unsure of what to do.

He speaks after a moment, through his teeth. "I'm sorry, but could you actually just take me to my apartment? I-I'm not feeling so well right now."

"Oh, okay," I answer, looking to see if I can get through to cut through the cars to find another way out. He keeps his eyes closed as I move through the lanes, glancing every so often to make sure he's okay.

God, you are not the right person to take care of him.

But then, I'm all he has...

"What are you feeling?"

"I'm- very nauseous," he whispers.

"Well, the seats are leather, if that makes you feel better," I add stupidly to lighten the mood. However, he laughs, grimacing as if it hurts.

"It does."

"Easy to clean."

"I get it," he replies, smirking gently.

"Okay, we're almost there," I say, immediately thinking of what I'm going to do when I actually get there. Should I go up? Make sure he's okay before I leave? Should I not? Shit.

I park outside of his sleek, modern building, clearing my throat before I remove my seat belt. He looks at me.

"You don't have to get out, Emma."

"I'm coming up."

"You don't have to turn this into a thing. I'm fine."

"Is there a girl up there? Is that why you don't want me to go up?"

"There's no one there."

"Then, I'm making sure you're okay before I leave and no, I won't take your word for it. Now, let's go."

He sighs, frustratingly, removing his seat belt so I climb out of the vehicle, suddenly aware I'm still in my gown from tonight.

"Since when do you drive?" he asks, moving before me to get the door. I glare at him and he sighs. "I can grab a door."

I ignore him. "I got it two months ago."

"A Benz?"

I look at him, smiling softly. "Yours left an impression."

He looks away but I watch his lips twist upwards towards the ceiling. He's pleased. We reach the elevator and I notice he's sweating, profusely. His shirt is damp on the back of his neck.

"Do you have a fever?" I ask, wishing I could touch him. He leans against the railing, shaking his head.

"No, no. I'm going through... um, withdrawals. I haven't had liquor in three days."

"And you won't be having any today."

"Emma."

"No," I snap, eyes wide. "No, Matteo. I will stay with you all night if I have to."

"I don't want you to stay," he replies, stubbornly. I shrug, smiling daringly.

"Oh well."

He groans. "God, you infuriate me."