Page 66 of The One
How do I navigate this?
I can’t lie to the man, something inside me just won’t allow it, but I can’t reveal my secret phone.
“Uh, I don’t have a phone.” The words come out awkwardly. His eyebrows shoot up, his expression screaming,Who doesn’t have a phone these days?
“Not officially, anyway,” I add quickly.
He cocks his head, waiting for me to explain.
“Father never allowed us to have phones, but Isa managed to get two burners so we could stay in touch after I got married. I’ve been hiding it from everyone.”
A flicker of understanding lights up his face, and to my surprise, a small grin follows.
“I love your defiance,” he says, amusement coloring his tone. “I’ll get you a new phone. One that you can be seen with, since it’ll come from me. And please, keep it on you whenever you leave the property. I’ll install a tracking app so we can find you easily and ensure your safety.”
I can’t help but smile, wide and genuine. Most people would balk at the idea of being tracked, but for someone living in the Mafia, it’s a safety net I hadn’t realized I needed.
And okay, I admit it, I’m swooning a little.
Over a damn phone.
But the way he takes charge and cares enough to protect me like this? Yeah, it’s doing something to me.
Before it can get awkward, my stomach steals the spotlight with a growl so loud it sounds like a bear waking up from hibernation.
Mateo’s raised brows make it worse. “Was that your stomach?”
I slap my hands over my abdomen, as if that could somehow silence the rumbles. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.
“Have you not eaten?” he asks.
I shake my head. My face feels like it’s on fire, and I’m suddenly very interested in the floor of this car. It’s very clean.
“Why didn’t you get yourself something?”
Mateo’s question hangs in the air, but I can’t bring myself to answer.
This is so embarrassing.
I really don’t want to admit to the man who has an endless supply of money that I don’t have a single cent to my name. My fingers fidget with the hem of my dress, twisting it tighter and tighter.
“Mariella?”
The way he says my name, in that soft, cajoling tone, it’s like warm chocolate sauce poured over strawberries, deliciously smooth and irresistible.
Still, I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes but finally whisper, “I don’t have any money.”
There’s a pause. His fingers drum lightly against the steering wheel, his expression thoughtful.
“No credit card either, I suppose?” His voice is calm, no judgment, and not even a hint of surprise.
I widen my eyes at him, giving him the look that clearly says,Duh. That coaxes a smile from him.
God, this man! When he smiles, it’s like my heart forgets how to beat properly.
Mateo’s gaze drifts over the park next to us, his fingers rubbing over his lips as he thinks.
“Wait here. I’ll get you something to tide you over until we have a proper dinner,” he says, stepping out of the car before I can respond.
