Page 154 of The One
“I’m in love with this place,” I say softly, meaning every word.
There’s so much more I want to add, the words nearly bubbling to the surface.But not as much as I’m in love with you.
But it’s too soon to say that, even with the intensity of everything that’s happening between us. Even with him talking about marriage. My heart swells with the thought, but I keep it to myself, for now.
Being here with him feelsright, even though it still catches me off guard.
This intimacy between us, this seriousness, only became real yesterday.
Yesterday!
And now, here I am, standing in a space that’s worlds away from the opulence and gravity that usually surrounds Teo. There’s no entourage, no watchful eyes, just the two of us.
It’s surreal.
I glance up at him, smiling, and something about his face shifts. The sharp lines of his jaw relax, and the weight he so often carries seems to lift, if only slightly.
It’s almost as if this house, his sanctuary, peels away a layer of his carefully constructed armor. The softness I see in him now is rare.
I rise onto my tiptoes and press a light kiss to his lips. It’s brief but intimate. Then, with a playful tug, I take his hands and pull him further inside.
“Let’s uncover all the furniture so you can give me that house tour you promised.” And so I can have dessert too.
Together, we start removing more of the dust sheets, folding them in sync. The rhythm we fall into seems effortless, as though we’ve done this hundreds of times before.
It’s these little things, the way we move together without hesitation, an unspoken understanding between us, that make this so real. There’s no awkwardness, no fumbling, just a natural sense of ease.
As we peel back each sheet, the room reveals its understated elegance. The furniture is modern, with clean, simple lines, yet it has a rustic charm that perfectly complements the house and its surroundings.
When we uncover a leather sofa, I can’t help but grin. It reminds me of the one in his suite at Carloso, sleek, masculine, undeniablyhim.
This place is so quintessentially Mateo, and I enjoy being here more with every passing second.
“Who usually cleans this place?” I ask as we fold the final cloth, curiosity getting the better of me.
“I do,” he replies simply.
My mouth falls open, and I gape at him.
“Don’t look so surprised,” he says, an amused glint in his eyes. “I’m fairly self-sufficient when I need to be. There’s something grounding about performing mundane tasks. Do I want to do them every day? No. But once in a while, it’s a good reminder to appreciate all the privileges I have.”
Wow. He really is a surprise package.
But then, why am I surprised? Of course, there’s more to Mateo than the carefully curated image he presents to the world. I’ve known that for years, haven’t I?
I’ve loved him for a long time, admired him from a distance while imagining what he might be like behind closed doors. And now?
Now, I don’t stand a chance. I’m a total goner.
This domesticated side of him makes him seem normal, approachable, and somehow even more irresistible.
We work together in a comfortable silence, the kind that doesn’t need to be filled. He’s still Mateo, though, standing here folding sheets in designer jeans and a tailored shirt, looking like he stepped out of a photoshoot. Not even here, far from the city, will he slum it.
The thought makes me smile. “Does your brother clean up his place on the island himself too?” I ask teasingly.
Mateo’s laughter wraps around me like a warm blanket on a cold winter’s night.
“Ha, no! He flies his trusted housekeeper out ahead of him to get everything ready. Always.”
