Page 92 of The One
“Are you ready?” he asks, and I nod, my throat too parched to speak.
He looks me up and down, not in a sexual way, although I do detect heat in his eyes.
“This dress looks lovely, but it might not quite work for what I had in mind.”
“Oh, umm…” I stutter.
Why is my mind going places it shouldn’t?
“Umm, I’m wearing gym clothes underneath,” I explain.
“Good. Let’s go.”
Mateo places his hand gently on the small of my back, guiding me out the door. A black Ferrari sits outside, sleek and gleaming against the dull, overcast sky. The air smells like rain, heavy clouds hanging low.
The car’s surface is flawless. There’s no trace of last night’s bullet marks. Did he have it repaired already, or is this a new one? Or maybe he has a fleet at his disposal. With Mateo De Marco, nothing would surprise me.
Ever the gentleman, he opens the car door for me and as I slide in, his scent envelops me immediately. It’s rich and spicy, carrying a masculine warmth that’s oddly comforting. I take a slow, deep breath, filling my lungs with it. He must drive it a lot if it smells so much like him.
Well, that removes one of the possibilities. It’s definitely not a new car.
“Is this the same car as last night?” I ask when Mateo slides into the driver’s seat.
“No, but it’s the same model. I always have two of each if I love the car, in case one gets destroyed like last night.” He says it so casually, like having a backup of an extremely expensive car is as normal as keeping an extra toothbrush.
Of course he does. Who doesn’t have a spare Ferrari?
“This one here, though, is my favorite. See here?” He points to a faint silver engraving on the dashboard, where ‘Luna’ is etched in elegant script.
His fingers trace the name with a look of pride, as if it’s more than just a car.
“I always name my favorites,” he adds, his voice softer.
“Why Luna?” I ask, glancing between him and the delicate script.
He looks at me, a faint smile curving his lips.
“Because she only really shines at night. Like the moon. Like certain people.” His gaze lingers, holding mine for a moment too long, and that damn warmth creeps into my cheeks again before he finally turns to start the engine.
Rom and the other men have split off, settling into two nearby cars.
“Your entourage is coming too?” I ask, watching them get into position.
I’m not sure I want an audience for whatever Mateo has planned. If they’re watching us, I’ll be too self-conscious to focus, whether it’s working out, running, or whatever else he has in mind.
“Unfortunately, yes. I can’t go anywhere without them,” he says with a sigh. “My brother gave me an earful this morning about us going out alone last night.” Mateo glances at me, a hint of apology in his eyes. “But don’t worry. They won’t stick around once we get where we’re going. It’s secure enough there.”
Last night. The memory of it makes me shudder, but it doesn’t spark the same panic it did when I first stumbled into my room afterward. Progress.
Mateo glances over, catching the shadow that must have crossed my face. His hand tightens on the steering wheel, then he shifts his gaze back to me, his eyes softening.
“You’re doing okay?” he asks, a trace of worry breaking through his usually composed tone.
I nod. “Better, actually. I’m still processing it, but it’s not as overwhelming now.”
He doesn’t seem convinced, though, his attention still fixed on me, as if weighing each of my words.
“I’m glad to hear that,” he murmurs, his voice low. “But if it’s still haunting you, talk to me. You don’t have to carry it alone.”
