Page 39 of Masked Hearts

I throw on a t-shirt and shorts, opting to sleep in clothes versus my usual underwear.

My entire body itches as it begs me to do more, to fight all of this more, but I know I have to let my brothers handle this—especially since there are too many eyes on Theresa and me. So I’ll have to,again, just do as I’m told and continue to fake it all.

I take a seat on the bed and charge my phone, double-checking none of my usual fifty alarms are on. I wouldn’t want to subject Theresa to my early morning routine just yet, and I could do with sleeping in a bit after tonight. Or, well, last night, since it’s 1:45 a.m.

Soft footsteps draw my eyes up from my phone, and my jaw nearly falls to the floor as I take in her appearance.

She is wearing a soft yellow, satin chemise that barely hits the middle of her thigh.

“Cazzo,” I curse under my breath. Someone is truly praying for my downfall right now.

She flicks off the light and joins me in the large king-size bed as I try to stay as far from her as possible.

“Goodnight, Theresa.”

“Please, can you stop calling me that?”

“What? Your name?”

“Yes.”

“What would you like me to call you then?”

“Anything else.”

“Very well. Goodnight,tesoro.”

She snorts at the choice of nickname. “Goodnight, Mr. Perfect.”

It’s a jab, but after tonight, it couldn’t have stung worse. Tonight was far from perfect, and she truly deserves so much more.

Chapter thirteen

Antonio

Deathisn’tathoughtthat crosses my mind easily, but ever since the dinner with Horatio and Mattheo, it seems to be a regular occurrence. It crosses my mind just as often as the thought of food, if not more. But, for once, they aren’t the reason for my thoughts. I’ve never slept so deeply, so soundly, that I have to wonder if I died briefly. I wake up and feel the sun’s warmth streaming through the wide-open curtains.

The curtains should’ve been closed. I always close the curtains. I shift under the blankets, hoping to cover my head, but a weight stops me.

I groan as I open my eyes and come face to face with a head of soft curls sprawled across my chest.

Theresa.

My heartbeat picks up, and I freeze, replaying the scenes of last night.

Fuck.

She shifts and wraps her arm across my torso, pulling herself closer into my side and draping a leg over me. The warmth of her soft flesh draping across my thighs brings back the memory of the tiny chemise she got into bed with, and how it’s probably riding up around her waist.

Double fuck.

I bring a hand to my eyes and rub them until I see stars.

“Oh, you’re so fucked.” My head shoots up as I try to keep the rest of my body completely still, not wanting to wake her.

Mattia stands in the doorway leaning against the frame, a smirk plastered on his lips.

“What the fuck are you doing here? How did you get in?” I whisper-yell at him, still trying not to wake Theresa.

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