Page 63 of Masked Hearts

Maybe he’s not awake yet.

Of course, that’s just wishful thinking since I know Antonio is an early riser, and even more wishful thinking when I see him sitting at the kitchen island drinking his coffee.

Fuck.

I freeze in the doorway and contemplate my next move carefully. I could turn and run, but that would only buy me so much time. We will inevitably have to interact with each other.

So I suck it up, take a deep breath, and head to the coffee machine. I avoid looking in his direction and instead, go on a search for the cup I usually make my iced latte in.

“I made you a shot of espresso earlier in the cup and put it in the fridge.”

I freeze in my attempts to reach the top of the cupboard.

“Uhm, thank you,” I say softly, surprised he even wants to speak to me when he could barely look at me last night.

I walk over to the fridge, and sure enough, my usual mug is sitting on the middle shelf with a shot and a half of espresso. Which happens to be the exact amount I usually use with just enough space for my milk.

The asshole has clearly been paying more attention than I thought. To be fair, he does have the peculiar habit of always being around me when we are both at home. Except when I’m in my library—that’s the one place he never comes in. I mentally curse myself for not going there to make my morning coffee.

I retrieve both the mug and the milk, and head to the counter with my back facing him. Something catches my eye on the counter—a large bottle of vanilla syrup.

I turn and face him, only to find him already observing me. “You got me syrup?”

“I did,” he says softly, his eyes observing me as if he’s not quite sure how I’ll react.

“Even after you told me it’s a sin against coffee and Italians?”

“Yes, even after that. There are a few more flavours in the cupboard above it, but you’ve been ordering vanilla this week from the restaurant downstairs.”

My mouth opens and closes like some dying fish gasping for air, unsure of what to say or even feel, especially after last night. “Thank you.” My voice cracks, but I clear my throat and face the counter again to avoid him seeing my face if I happen to burst into tears. Right now, the lump in my throat feels almost impossible to swallow down. I have to stand still to just breathe, to prevent a sound from leaving my lips.

Suddenly, my skin prickles and all my hair feels as if it’s standing on edge. He’s directly behind me, and it takes everything in me to not flinch away as he places a hand on my forearm. “Theá, about last night—"

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But I do.” He stands next to me, trying to meet my gaze, but I keep my eyes locked on the coffee in front of me.

“Why? You made it crystal clear we don’t need to rehash it. I was stupid, and desperate, and you weren’t interested. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“I am interested,” he counters quickly.

“Sure as hell didn’t look like it by the end of the night.”

He sighs and hangs his head slightly. “I know what it looked like, but that’s why I want to speak about it. I never intended to hurt you or make it seem like I was uninterested, it’s just…” he trails off.

“That I’m a virgin and you don’t want the baggage that comes with that?” I raise a brow, now finally facing him. “I know there’s always that stupid narrative that a girl becomes obsessed with whoever she loses her virginity to, but that’s honestly just idiotic. The whole concept of virginity is just something stupid conjured up by men to make a woman feel even more inferior when it happens.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but the sound of the elevator doors opening and footsteps on the marble tiles shuts it right up as he turns to see who our visitor could be.

“Wow, this place is huge,” a familiar voice echoes from where the elevator doors are.

Valerie waltzes into the room in a light pink sundress, her fingers interlocked with Ambrose’s as he stalks in after her.

You’ve gotta be kidding me.

My brows furrow at our unwelcomed guests, and I can hear Antonio groan before he turns to face them fully.

“Good morning, newlyweds,” Valerie sings as she lets go of Ambrose’s hand and walks over. She wraps her arms around Antonio before turning to do the same to me. I can’t help but feel slightly awkward as I watch their exchange, especially now after hearing the extent of what they all went through as a direct result of my family.

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