Chapter Thirty-One
“Sounds like you’re the one who needs to be told to back off,” Abigail observed from the other end of the phone.
“Why? He likes her, she likes him. Just get together already, what’s the hold up?” Sarah asked.
“Because she wants to do a good job,” Louise said as if it were obvious. “She can keep her thighs closed for six months. Lord knows I’ve been doing it for… well, it doesn’t matter how long.”
Genevieve shook her head while she finished making the pasta she’d been cooking for the last few hours. It was the weekend and while she continued to work on the Diego Track report, she’d taken a break when her roommates surprised her with a group phone call.
“I just don’t get it!” Sarah yelled. “He’s hot. He’s rich. He’s sweet. He isn’t pushy. He is rich. He is hot…”
“You’ve said those two already,” Becca added helpfully.
“They’re important!” Sarah yelled again.
“Jesus, Sarah, stop yelling, you’re making my phone crack,” Gen said.
Becca sighed on the other end of the phone. “Have you checked out the rooftop garden yet?”
“No,” Genevieve sighed with longing while casting a look up at the ceiling. It was one of the main reasons she’d chosen this apartment besides the state of the art security and distance from Matteo’s supposed home. “There’s a door that I think leads to it but it’s locked.”
“Break in,” Abigail suggested, completely serious.
“What is wrong with you people?” Becca asked.
“Come to the dark side with us, Becc,” Sarah whispered.
Genevieve heard a knock at her door.
“Was that a knock?” Abigail asked.
“OMG, it’s him, it’s gotta be!” Sarah exclaimed. Gen knew she would regret telling them he was her neighbor. “Go check it out!”
“Oh my God, Sarah, you have to chill,” Louise warned. “Seriously, Gen, she’s like breaking out in hives or something.”
Genevieve walked with her phone toward the door. “It’s not going to be him, guys. I asked him not to come over uninvited.”
“Pfft, like a man in love would care,” Sarah stated.
“He’s not in love with me,” Gen hissed in a whisper.
“Right.” “Sure.” “Of course not.” They all said at once.
Gen rolled her eyes as she stood on her toes to look out the peephole.
“Oh shit.”
“It’s him! I knew it!” Sarah squealed.
Genevieve wished she could tell her it wasn’t, but looking out the peephole she could see a flustered Matteo in casual clothes with his hands behind his back. He stared down at the ground, keeping her from seeing his expression and his intent.
“Shhh,” Abigail hushed Sarah. “Gen. Open the door. Keep us on speaker so we can hear everything.”
“Are you joking?” Gen hissed, stepping away from the door and lowering her voice. “He’ll know. He’ll hear you guys because there is no way any of you could keep your mouths shut that long.”
“Oh come on,” Louise begged. “Even I’m up for it.”
“I… I wouldn’t mind either,” Becca added.
“Do it!” Sarah shrieked. “Open the door! He won’t even know we’re listening.”
“Actually…” Came a muffled voice from the other side of the door. Gen froze. “You might want to listen to her. I can hear you fine.”
“Oh fuck,” Sarah whispered.
“Is he like… batman or something?” Abigail asked.
“Just call us back when he leaves,” Sarah instructed in a whisper.
“No!” Louise protested. “I’ll be at work! Call back in the morning.”
“No, I’ll be at work.”
“Me too!”
“Ugh!” Gen cried out. She hung up the phone, slid it in her pocket and started the long process of opening her door. Finally she pulled the door open with a flourish and glared at Matteo’s smiling face. “What?”
He pulled his hands from behind his back, showing the half-wound wraps he’d tried to do himself. “Help?”
Gen sighed. “Fine, come on in,” she said, walking away from the door.
“Thank you,” Matteo said with triumph.
Gen walked back into the kitchen to stir her pasta sauce. She heard the click of the door followed by the numerous locks. She leaned back to send him a questioning look. He shrugged his shoulder.
“Habit.”
“Hm.”
Gen looked down at her sauce and then her clothes. She was only wearing a tank top and workout shorts. She hadn’t been expecting company. A moment later she felt him come to stand close behind her. She felt his breath on her neck as he looked over her shoulder.
“Smells good,” he said with admiration.
“I suppose that’s a compliment coming from an Italian,” she mused.
“It’s a compliment coming from anyone,” he whispered before stepping back and allowing her to breathe again.
Gen’s grip tightened on the wooden spoon she was using. She turned and brandished it out at him. “Aren’t you supposed to live by Central Park?”
Matteo’s eyes widened as he continued to lower himself onto a stool by the kitchen island. “Uh, no?”
She narrowed her eyes and walked closer to him. “You live by Central Park,” she repeated.
“Ah,” he said with a nod of understanding. “Is that why you chose this apartment?”
“No,” said her voice, but yes said her blush.
He chuckled and shook his head. He seemed so much younger outside of the office. Perhaps it was because his rich dark hair wasn’t perfectly combed back but rather fell haphazardly across his forehead. Maybe it was the five o’clock shadow he didn’t feel the need to shave or the t-shirt and sweats he was wearing. Maybe it was the fact that his expression was unguarded and completely open for her to read. He looked back at her. His golden-green eyes shifted in the light, stalling her thoughts.
“I took you to my family’s safehouse that night. I don’t actually live there.”
Gen’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why would you do that?”
He looked around and shifted uncomfortably on the stool. He shrugged again and she realized that was the best answer she was going to get. Gen set the spoon down and walked around the island toward him.
“Let me see,” she ordered.
He turned the stool so that he was facing her. She removed the bandages he’d tried to tie himself and inspected his knuckles. They weren’t bleeding anymore and the ragged edges of the cuts were healing to a smooth pink. She nodded her approval and started to rewrap them.
“I like your knuckles,” she whispered. Her round eyes shot up in surprise at her own confession.
He gave her a look of dubious amusement. “Sure,” he stated, his voice laced with sarcasm.
She shook her head. Well, she’d already gotten this far. “I mean it. In public you’re this polished, no-nonsense guy impeccably dressed with a sharp posture and not a hair out of place. Then you have these knuckles that show what you’ve been through. They’re jagged and torn and…” She stopped her tangent and tightened the bandage. His fingers wrapped around to capture hers.
“And?” he whispered to her head.
Gen shrugged. “Rough around the edges. Like you.”
Gen finished bandaging his other hand and then went to check on her sauce again.
“Thank you for your help,” he said, sauntering back to the door. “It really does smell good. I’ll let you get back to your friends.”
He was about to start unlocking the door when she found herself calling out to him. He turned around with a brow raised.
“Do you… want to try some?” she asked, holding the spoon up.
Matteo didn’t hesitate. He took several long strides to stand in front of her and let her insert the spoon into his mouth. He closed his eyes as his tongue traced his lip to take in the sauce that had been left there.
He nodded once. “It’s good.”
“What?” she asked, knowing he was holding back.
“May I?” he asked. She nodded.
He stepped up to the oven and opened the cabinet above it. His fingers traced over the herbs until he found oregano, basil, garlic, and the bay leaves.
“Woah, that’s a lot,” she said, watching as he used his fingers to measure and add the various ingredients.
He smiled. “It may seem like it, but trust me.”
“I do.”
He paused mid pinch to look over at her. He smiled and shook his head as he continued. “Fresh would be better this late in the cooking process, but we’ll make do.”
“Yeah, I like to keep fresh herbs. I have a small raised garden at my house in Boston but…” She shrugged. Then she realized if anyone knew about the secret garden, it would be him. “Do you know anything about the garden on the roof?”
His actions slowed. “Who told you about that?”
“No one. I could just see it from the satellite images when I looked up the apartment. I tried the door that leads to it, but it’s locked. Is it a community thing?”
“No, it’s private.”
“Bummer…” She started thinking. “Well, do you know who it belongs to? Maybe I can work my magic and convince them to let me have a small section.”
Matteo finished putting the herbs in their respective places. He turned his back to the stove and crossed his arms. “Depends. What kind of magic are we talking about?”
Gen smirked. “The dirty kind.”
Matteo’s brow rose to his hairline. “Well, in that case, I’m sure we can work something out.”
“We?”
Matteo nodded. “The rooftop garden is mine,” he explained, causing her jaw to drop. His smile grew at her expression, bringing out the dimple which she hardly ever got to witness. “Want to see it?”