Page 47 of The One
Yet even knowing that doesn’t change the fact that his touch, his presence, meant everything to me.
The way he held me, so close and protective. For a moment, it let me forget.
Being in Mateo’s arms felt like safety, like I could fall apart completely and still be okay.
Stop, Mariella.
Because I won’t be okay if I let myself fall any further under Mateo’s spell.
“Can you walk?” Mateo asks, stepping closer to me.
His warmth immediately uplifts me, and all I want is to lean in and soak it up.
And his scent? It wraps around me, grounding me in a way I didn’t know I needed.
Then, ever so gently, he brushes my hair behind my ear. My breath catches. This small gesture feels like the most intimate thing I’ve ever experienced. Well, except for when I just stared into his eyes.
For a heartbeat, I let myself sink into the moment. But then the pain in my cheek registers. Even the lightest of touches is like glass scraping against raw flesh, and I flinch before I can stop myself.
I steal a glance at his face.
His eyes are locked on my cheek. His jaw clenches, tension rippling through him like a brewing storm.
“We need to get you inside,” he says, his voice low and tight. “Ice for the swelling, arnica for the bruising.”
His voice is rough, with an edge I’ve not heard before. It’s a tinge scary, but I’m not afraid. I know it’s not aimed at me.
If anything, it’s kind of thrilling how upset he is on my behalf.
Is that what’s making my knees go weak again, or have they been weak all along, and I’ve just been too distracted to notice? A bit like my cheek not hurting until Mateo drew my attention to it.
Mateo is right there to wind his arm around my waist to hold me up. God, I hope he thinks it’s from the shock of my father hitting me.
Sparks tingle where his skin touches mine.
Does he feel it too?
No, he’s Mateo Federico De Marco. A man like him doesn’t feel tingles. I’m probably just in shock.
Mateo guides me back to the house, never letting go of his hold around my waist.
“I’m fine now,” I say when we reach the courtyard. There are guards patrolling the area, throwing us curious glances.
Not wanting to become the center of more gossip, I straighten and take a small step away from him. Mateo’s arm slips from me, but the comfort of his touch lingers.
As we walk toward the kitchen door, his hand finds the small of my back to guide me. I’ll be fantasizing about it tonight.
Though, in my dreams his hands stay on me, because he can’t bear not to touch me.
Dangerous territory, Mari, I remind myself.Drop it.
As we step through the door, Giulia’s happy humming stops. She takes one look at me and puts down the spoon she was using to stir the delicious-smelling sauce.
“What happened?” she asks as she rushes over.
Neither of us answers.
What am I supposed to say? That my father showed up, furious enough to beat me up?
