Chapter 263: THE MORNING AFTER
The pale light of dawn crept through the horizontal wooden blinds.
Cold grey stripes fell across the dark navy sheets of the king-sized bed.
Maria stirred slowly, her eyelids fluttering open as consciousness returned.
Her body felt soft and pleasantly heavy.
A sweet, deep ache lingered between her thighs from the intense, breathless hours they had spent in the dark.
She reached her arm out to the left side of the mattress.
Her fingers searched for the broad, solid heat of Giovanni’s back.
Her hand struck cold, empty cotton.
Maria blinked, sitting up quickly and pulling the navy sheet over her chest.
The left side of the bed was completely empty.
The pillow was cold to the touch. The indentations of his head were already smoothed over.
She looked around the room.
His leather jacket was gone from the chair. And his watch and keys were missing from the nightstand.
There was no note resting on the table. No text on her phone. No sound of water running in the adjoining bathroom.
He was simply gone.
A sudden, sharp wave of cold embarrassment washed over Maria, turning her skin pale.
She sat alone in the large, quiet bedroom, clutching the sheet against her bare chest.
Her heart sank straight into her stomach.
It was just comfort, she told herself bitterly, biting her lower lip as tears pricked her eyes.
He was tired, I was crying, and it happened. It didn't mean a damn thing to him.
She forced herself out of bed, pulling her clothes back on with trembling hands.
She spent the entire day cooped up in the apartment, diving headfirst into her technical work.
She tried desperately to drown out the memory of his hands on her waist, his heavy weight between her legs, and the devastating silence he had left behind.
It was well past nine o'clock in the evening when the electronic lock on the front door finally chimed.
Giovanni stepped inside the apartment, carrying his leather jacket over his arm.
He looked exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes were heavy, his jaw covered in a dark stubble.
Maria was sitting at the kitchen island, her laptop open, her fingers typing rapidly across the mechanical keys.
She didn't look up when he walked in, though her heart was hammering violently against her ribs.
Giovanni paused in the foyer, his eyes locking onto her.
He took a slow breath, adjusting his posture, and walked into the kitchen with an eerie, completely detached composure.
"Hey," Giovanni said, his voice flat, neutral, and entirely devoid of the heat from the night before.
He set a takeout bag on the counter. "I brought some dinner from the diner downstairs."
Maria stopped typing.
She slowly raised her head, looking at him through her glasses.
"Where were you?"
Giovanni pulled a bottle of water from the fridge, taking a long sip before looking back at her.
"Street rounds. Enzo's lieutenants are causing trouble on the east side again. I had to handle it."
He didn't mention the bed.
He didn't mention the morning.
He didn't offer an apology or an explanation.
He treated her with the exact same polite, distant courtesy he would show a temporary houseguest.
A bitter, sharp anger flared in Maria's chest, cutting straight through her embarrassment.
She leaned back in her stool, folding her arms. "You left before six in the morning, Giovanni. You didn't even leave a note."
Giovanni paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he set the water bottle down on the marble counter.
He looked at her, his expression hardening into a cold, unreadable mask.
"Maria," Giovanni said softly, his tone dropping into a dry, matter-of-fact register that made her skin prickle.
"We had a long, intense night. You were upset about Bella, I was exhausted from work, and things got out of hand."
He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms.
"We're both adults. We don't need to make a dramatic production out of a momentary slip-up."
A momentary slip-up.
The words hit Maria like a slap across the face.
Her jaw tightened, her hands clenching into tight fists beneath the counter.
She stared at him, seeing the deliberate, defensive wall he had built around himself—the same wall he used to protect his guarded heart after his ex’s betrayal.
"A slip-up," Maria repeated, her voice dripping with quiet, deadly sarcasm.
"Yes," Giovanni replied flatly, holding her gaze without flinching.
"It was a mistake. We both know you're here temporarily, and I am not looking for a relationship. Let's just keep things simple."
Maria stood up from the barstool, snapping her laptop screen shut with a loud, resounding crack.
She looked him dead in the eye, her dark eyes flashing with pure, unadulterated fire.
"Don't worry, Giovanni," Maria said, her voice entirely steady, cold, and razor-sharp.
"I won't mistake you for a decent man again. Everything stays purely professional."
She grabbed her laptop, turned on her heel, and marched into her bedroom.
She slammed the door shut with a heavy bang that echoed through the quiet apartment.
Giovanni stood alone in the kitchen, staring at the closed wood, his jaw set as a suffocating knot tightened in his chest.