Page 38 of Shadows of Steel
I catch the hatred burning in his eyes and choose not to press further, though I would be lying if I claimed I didn’t crave more details. But I shouldn’t care, I remind myself. So, I steer the conversation elsewhere. “Has Mattia had breakfast?” I ask, keeping my tone neutral.
“No.” Dante exhales. “He’s still asleep. He was up far too late last night.” He pauses briefly. “I anticipated he’d struggle to wake this morning.” He makes a move to rise. “I’ll go check on him.”
Before I can think, my hand lifts, fingertips grazing his forearm, a fleeting, instinctive touch. A spark ignites where our skin meets, a buzz of electricity, humming beneath the surface. The contact is brief, yet it lingers in the air between us, charged and undeniable.
“Let me go.” My voice is softer now, yet steady. “It’s only reasonable we get to know each other.”
Dante stills. And so do I.
For a second, neither of us moves, both caught off guard by the unexpected contact. But I don’t dwell on it. I drop my hand, stand, and leave the room, feeling his eyes follow me.
Upstairs, I slow my steps, glancing at the doors until I spot one with a piece of paper taped to it.
Do Not Disturb, scrawled in uneven, childish handwriting.
I rap softly on the door, met with nothing but silence.
I try again.
A faint, muffled voice stirs from within. “Five more minutes.”
A small smirk tugs at my lips. I push the door open.
Inside, Mattia is still curled up in bed, tangled in the sheets, one arm dangling over the edge, his face buried in the pillow. The room is dim, the curtains drawn, casting shadows over the walls.
“Can I come in?”
Mattia cracks one eye open, barely awake, then lets out a small sigh. “I guess so.” He mutters before closing his eyes again.
I walk toward the window, pulling the curtains open. Sunlight floods the room instantly. Mattia grunts unhappily, burrowing deeper into the blanket.
“You need to get dressed and come down for breakfast,” I say, folding my arms. “You’ll be late for school if you linger any longer.”
“I don’t wanna go to school.”
I arch a brow. “Yeah, well, you only have a few days left. That doesn’t mean you get to skip them.”
He peeks at me from under the covers, his small face scrunched in defiance. “You’re not my mother.”
The words are sharp, but I don’t let them affect me. I’ve dealt with worse.
“I’m well aware,” I reply smoothly. “If I were, I’m quite certain I’d recall the experience of bringing you into this world.”
Mattia wrinkles his nose, but at least he’s sitting up now, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
I exhale, lowering myself slightly so we’re at eye level. “I know this isn’t easy, for either of us. But trust me, Mattia, you’re not the only one struggling with this.” My voice is calm. I pause, weighing my next words carefully.
“If I’m going to marry your father, we’ll have to find a way to coexist. There’s no sense in making this more difficult than it has to be.” I hold his gaze, firm yet gentle, allowing the words to settle between us. “I think you’re a remarkable little boy, Mattia, and I’d truly like the chance to know you.”
He frowns. “I’m not little. I’m eight.”
I smirk. “Eight is still little.”
His scowl deepens, but there’s no real bite to it, just quiet defiance.
“Go get ready,” I say, straightening. “Wash up, get dressed, and then we shall go down for breakfast.”
Mattia drags himself out of bed, moving sluggishly toward the bathroom. As he reaches the door, I ask, “Do you need help?”
