Chapter Three
Genevieve stared out the window as they drove through the streets of New York. Bright lights lit up the sky and she sighed, longing for the starry nights she’d grown up with. She never liked New York. When her father moved her there when she was a teenager, he promised it would be a grand adventure. Instead it felt suffocating. She’d gotten out of the city as soon as she’d graduated college. Boston was much more her speed. Still a far larger city than she was raised in, but with traces of history around every corner and people who didn’t spit at you for not crossing the street fast enough.
She snuck a glance at the man driving the car. Matteo seemed to have forgotten her existence. His knuckles whitened against the steering wheel as he stared far off into the distance.
“Your knuckles are bleeding,” Gen noted. His tense grip on the steering wheel loosened. He cast a disinterested look down at them before his eyes flicked back up to the road.
“It’ll stop in a minute.”
She stared at him for another moment. What kind of man was he to have such little regard for having bloody knuckles? A man who got them often, she surmised. Gen suppressed a shiver and crossed her arms. She looked back out the window, noticing they were entering a beautiful residential area near Central Park.
Matteo pulled the car up to the curb and got out without a word. Gen followed suit, admiring the white brownstone he was striding up to. She watched as he used several keys to unlock three locks before typing in a code and using a thumb print scanner to open the door.
“Jesus Christ, who the fuck are you?” Gen asked.
Matteo glanced over his shoulder with a dangerous smirk before shoving the door all the way open and stepping inside. It was an older brownstone with original floors, walls painted in deep greens, blues and whites. Historically accurate antiques dotted the rooms she could see from the entryway. As she gawked, Matteo shucked off his coat.
“May I?” His voice was soft and his breath fanned her neck as his hands skimmed her coat sleeves.
Gen could only nod. The knot that had been slowly forming in her stomach expanded and sank. His fingers brushed her collarbone as he took her collar and pulled her coat from her shoulders. She watched as he took her coat and purse to place them in a closet by the door. He leaned back against the closet door. His eyes gleamed as they traveled over her body.
“Having second thoughts?”
“No,” Gen answered far too quickly. He raised an eyebrow. She crossed her arms and took a breath for courage. “I’ve just… never done this before.”
He pushed off of the door and walked slowly toward her. She fought to hold her ground and not run backward. He buried his hands in his pockets. “Neither have I. Come on.”
She watched him start up the stairs and suddenly the reality of their situation crashed down on her. She was about to have a one-night stand with a complete stranger. She’d never done anything so brazen. Was she really going to go through with this? Without him standing in front of her, the gears in her mind started turning again. She needed to leave. She needed fresh air. She needed to…
Socked feet appeared on the top of the staircase. Matteo descended the stairs with his hands in his pockets. He’d taken off his black suit coat and vest as well as his tie and cufflinks. His white shirt hung untucked past his waist. He stopped in front of her and sighed deeply.
“You’re panicking over nothing,” he said softly without any hint of frustration.
Gen dared to meet his gaze and immediately knew her mistake. His eyes were filled with exhaustion, the kind that comes from deep grief. “I’m not quite sure what to do,” she admitted.
His eyes slowly traveled over her features. For the first time that night she witnessed a small smile grace his lips. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Just come upstairs… if you want. Otherwise the door unlocks easily enough from the inside. It’ll send me an alert and I’ll know you’ve made your decision,” Matteo said. He turned away from her and took the steps back upstairs.
Gen paced in the front foyer. Her heels clicked against the wood as she debated what to do. Finally she groaned. Fuck it. Gen started up the stairs before she could change her mind. She followed the soft glow of light near the end of the hallway. She stopped in the doorway to what was his bedroom. A large four-poster bed stood against the farthest wall. Landscape paintings hung on the other walls and a window looked out onto the front street where he’d left his car.
“Matteo” walked out of the bathroom in just his dress pants and she inhaled sharply at the sight. He did indeed have a sculpted stomach. She imagined how many hours he had to clock in the gym to get such definition. Her eyes followed the curves of his arms to the sharp angles of his chest, abs and finally the thin dusting of hair that disappeared below his waistband before traveling back up to a tattoo of a family coat of arms on his left pec, above his heart.
“Have you made a decision?” he asked, sliding his hands into his pockets.
Gen’s eyes shot back up to his face. She gulped at the intensity she saw there. He wanted her to stay. She could see the fear in his eyes that she was about to walk out on him.
“I’ll… stay,” she said.
“I put some clothes for you to wear in the bathroom. Feel free to take a shower or take off your makeup or whatever you want to do,” Matteo suggested.
She glanced at the bathroom door and then watched him walk to the bedside table where he picked up his phone and started typing. He wanted her to take a shower? Take her makeup off? Weren’t men and women during a one-night stand supposed to rip each others’ clothes off? Break furniture with their drunken sex? Wake up early and rush to flee or fix the makeup they’d smudged into the pillow?
Gen continued to stare at him but he merely sat down on the bed and continued tapping away on his phone. She decided to take the invitation and rushed for the bathroom. Once inside she closed the door and locked it. She glanced around at the marble bathroom. She raised her eyebrows, impressed with the rain shower and large vanity mirror. She brushed her fingers over the hoodie and boxer briefs he’d left out for her. Her face flamed. She was supposed to wear his boxers?
She piled the hoodie on top of the boxers and shook herself off. She threw her hair into a bun atop her head. She used toilet paper and some lotion she found to smudge the majority of her makeup off before stepping under the scalding water of the shower. The water helped calm her nerves while making her feel more in control.
Once dry she stared down at the clothes he’d offered her. She decided to put her bra back on and then his hoodie. She sniffed the inner collar of the hoodie and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. He’d clearly worn it recently. It was smothered in the heady scent of tobacco and honey. Because the hoodie went past her lady parts she decided it would be okay to just put her own underwear back on rather than having to contend with the notion of wearing something that literally caged his dick.
She looked in the mirror one last time. She fluffed her hair and nodded. When she walked back into the bedroom, Matteo was sitting up against the headboard, his waist and legs covered by the blankets. His eyes shot up and ran down her body. He kept his eyes on her as he set his phone on the table beside him.
“Are you ready for bed?” he asked, his voice deep and dream-inducing.