Chapter 57: 57

Silas dragged his suitcase behind him.

His ribs ached with every breath, but the pain inside his chest was worse.

Just as he reached the curb, headlights washed over the street.

Mateo's car slowed as it pulled up to the entrance. Panic surged in Silas’s chest.

He quickly ducked behind a pillar, pressing himself against the cold stone, suitcase handle clutched tight in his trembling hand.

Through the tinted window, he caught the silhouette of Mateo leaning forward.

Silas’s throat tightened. His mind betrayed him, flashing back to earlier that week—Mateo’s fingers trailing along his collarbone.

The way Mateo had kissed down his throat until his teeth sank in, leaving that mark Silas still carried, hidden beneath his shirt.

His hand instinctively brushed against the spot, the faint sting of the hickey still fresh.

Silas squeezed his eyes shut, his breath stopping . Don’t remember. Don’t look. Just walk away.

But his legs wouldn’t move. His chest felt like it was caving in, torn between running into Mateo’s arms and running as far away as possible.

Silas dragged his suitcase behind him, every step heavier than the last. His ribs ached with every breath, but the pain inside his chest was worse. The night air hit his skin, cool and sharp, as he stepped out of the building.

Just as he reached the curb, headlights washed over the street. Mateo’s sleek black car slowed as it pulled up to the entrance. Panic surged in Silas’s chest. He quickly ducked behind a pillar, pressing himself against the cold stone, suitcase handle clutched tight in his trembling hand.

Through the tinted window, he caught the silhouette of Mateo leaning forward, the faint outline of flowers in his lap.

Silas’s throat tightened. His mind betrayed him, flicking back to earlier that week—Mateo’s fingers trailing along his collarbone, tracing the dip with maddening patience. The way Mateo had kissed down his throat until his teeth sank in, leaving that mark Silas still carried, hidden beneath his shirt.

His hand instinctively brushed against the spot, the faint sting of the hickey still fresh.

Silas squeezed his eyes shut, his breath hitching. Don’t remember. Don’t look. Just walk away.

But his legs wouldn’t move. His chest felt like it was caving in, torn between running into Mateo’s arms and running as far away as possible.

He pressed his forehead to the pillar.

Mateo’s car slowed right at the curb. The driver stepped out to open the door, but Mateo lifted a hand, eyes scanning the entrance as though he expected to see someone waiting there.

Silas’s heart thudded so loud he thought it might give him away. He pressed tighter against the pillar, dragging his suitcase closer to his body, every muscle trembling with the effort to stay still.

Mateo leaned slightly, his gaze sweeping across the steps. For a terrifying second, Silas thought their eyes would meet—that Mateo would spot him in the shadows. His breath caught in his throat.

The driver cleared his throat softly. “Sir, shall we?”

Mateo hesitated, his eyes lingering on the spot just a few feet from where Silas hid. Then, slowly, he nodded and stepped out of the car, the bouquet of flowers cradled carefully in one hand.

Silas’s chest ached at the sight.

He bit down hard on his lip to keep from making a sound, clutching the suitcase handle until his knuckles turned white.

Only when Mateo disappeared through the doors did Silas let out the breath he’d been holding, his whole body shaking.

That was close… too close.

Mateo walked into the lobby, a rare smile softening his sharp features, the bouquet still in his hand. The male receptionist’s eyes widened instantly, his heart skipping.

“Good evening, Mr. Woods,” the receptionist greeted, trying to keep his voice steady.

Mateo pulled a crisp bill from his wallet and slid it across the counter with that charm that made everyone’s knees weak. “Keep the change,” he said smoothly, his smile lingering before he strode toward the elevators.

The receptionist’s breath caught. As soon as Mateo turned his back, he grabbed his coworker’s arm, whispering urgently, eyes wide and dreamy.

“Oh my God… Did you see him? That smile? That walk?” He fanned himself dramatically. “If he would just—” his voice dropped, a husky edge slipping in, “fuck me once, just once… I swear, I’d be the happiest man on earth.”

His coworker stifled a laugh, glancing nervously toward Mateo’s retreating figure.

But the receptionist didn’t care—his gaze stayed locked on the elevator doors as they closed behind Mateo, a lovesick grin spreading across his face.

Mateo reached the suite, his heart thudding heavier than he’d like to admit. The bouquet rustled in his grip as he paused just outside the door, his hand resting on the knob.

For a moment, he shut his eyes, leaning back against the frame, letting his imagination take over.

He pictured it—Silas sprawled on the couch, his shirt loose, hair tousled, lips curved into that reluctant smile that always undid him.

Maybe he’d look up slowly, those pretty hunter eyes softening just for him. Maybe he’d murmur in that low, teasing tone—

“Do you know how much I’ve missed you.”

The thought made Mateo’s jaw clench, a groan caught in his throat.

He let the fantasy play deeper, his mind betraying him with flashes of Silas flushed beneath him, his collarbone marked, his breathy little gasps filling the suite.

He whispered under his breath, almost like a vow, “Hot, stubborn, beautiful boy… waiting for me.”

His chest ached with the need to see him—really see him.

Mateo opened his eyes, exhaled slowly, then whispered a count under his breath.

“One… two… three…”

By the time he reached ten, his pulse was pounding.

He turned the knob and pushed the door open, his smile ready, his heart already leaping toward the image of Silas that lived in his head.

The door swung open, and Mateo stepped inside with a smile tugging at his lips. “Silas! I’m home,” he called, his voice warm, and playful.

But silence answered him.

The suite was dark, the air too still. No light humming from the TV, no shoes scattered by the door, no trace of the presence he was aching to see.

Mateo’s smile faltered as he stepped further in, the sound of his shoes echoing too loud in the emptiness.

“Silas?” he tried again, softly.

Nothing.

A flash of irritation sparked in his chest, but then his eyes landed on the desk. A single sheet of paper lay neatly folded there. His gut twisted instantly.

Slowly, he set the bouquet down on the table and reached for the note.

The paper shook in his hand as he unfolded it and began to read. Each line sank deeper than any knife could.

This was a hard decision, Mateo… I don’t belong in your world… you deserve better… I’m not a toy… don’t look for me.

Mateo’s throat went dry. The flowers slipped from his hand, falling to the floor, petals scattering across the carpet.

His jaw tightened, fury flashing hot in his chest. “Don’t you dare…” His voice broke, low and dangerous. He crumpled the note in his fist. “Don’t you dare play your dirty pranks on me, Silas.”