Barely dragging myself into Lisa’s apartment, I dropped onto the floor to unlace my sneakers.
“How do you still have the energy for a run after working two shifts?” my friend asked, giving me a careful once-over.
She was wearing lounge leggings, a t-shirt, and an apron.
Judging by the smell of fried onions wafting from the kitchen, she was in the middle of making dinner.
I needed to hurry up, take a shower, and help her out.
“I always have energy for a run,” I said, setting my sneakers neatly aside as I stood up.
I truly loved running.
More than that—I was obsessed with it.
After spending years barely able to walk, running gave me a sense of absolute freedom.
I had competed in high school track, and now I was on the university team.
Over the last few months, I’d entered several meets and took first place in all but one.
Right now, I was gradually training for a major competition.
Truth be told, I hadn’t planned on running today.
But as it turned out, I desperately needed to vent my emotions.
When I stopped by home after my shift at the bookstore to grab a few things for my sleepover at Lisa’s, I bumped into my older stepsister, Bianca, sitting on the sofa in the hallway.
Filing her nails, she looked up and snidely dropped a bomb on me: Rosario Amato—my father—had arrived in Naples yesterday.
And he wasn’t alone.
He was with his adopted daughter.
Bianca had overheard her parents talking about it over breakfast that morning, and just knowing what kind of casual conversation topics they threw around the table made my skin crawl.
I felt a violent surge of emotions.
I’d spent years trying to numb myself to my biological family.
It had been ages since they forgot I existed, but it still hurt like hell to learn that my father had come to the very city I lived in and hadn’t bothered to see me.
He was too busy parading his adopted daughter around to introduce her to some powerful family.
In front of Bianca, I did my best to act like I couldn’t care less.
But the moment I stepped outside, I ran until my body had nothing left to give—running straight into total exhaustion, my muscles screaming in pain, just to completely empty my head.
Part of me felt a sense of relief, but another part didn’t feel better at all.
One way or another, the pain kept gnawing at me, tearing me apart from the inside out.
I kept wanting to look down at myself and wonder: what the hell is wrong with me?
Why did my own family toss me aside like trash?
Or am I missing something, and they actually do love me?
Yeah.
Right.
Knowing I needed to hurry up and help Lisa, I made my shower quick.
Even so, I scrubbed my skin so hard it was now burning.
I threw on a pair of shorts and a tank top.
But as I stepped out into the hallway, I nearly dropped my caddy—I hadn’t expected Lisa to be standing right outside the door, and I almost collided with her.
“What are you doing standing here?” I took a deep breath and tried to get a better grip on my bag.
“Waiting for you to come out.
Why didn’t you tell me you have a boyfriend?” I slipped the towel off my shoulders to dry my hair, but froze mid-motion, my eyebrows shooting up in shock.
“How did you find out?” I’d never mentioned Dante to Lisa before.
I knew she’d give me endless grief about it later, but every day between him and me felt like a whirlwind—the kisses, the touches, words that set my soul on fire.
First and foremost, I just wanted to process it all myself.
My eyes darted toward my bag resting on the entryway table.
Dammit.
I’d pulled my phone out earlier.
Before my run, I left it on the kitchen counter, and Dante must have texted me—with Lisa spotting the notification.
“Look, it’s just…” I started, scrambling to come up with an excuse for my damn silence.
“Come on,” my friend interrupted, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the kitchen.
“You’re going to tell me everything later.
Every single detail.
But right now, go to your boyfriend.
He’s been waiting for you since you stepped into the shower.” Waiting for me?
What is she talking about?
I stared at her back in total bewilderment, but before I could ask a single question, she dragged me into the kitchen, where I froze dead in my tracks.
Sitting on one of the chairs was Matteo.
Slouched lazily, looking entirely at ease.
But he wasn’t dressed like he usually was.
Instead of a suit jacket and dress shirt, he was wearing jeans and a hoodie, making him look a bit younger—maybe around twenty.
Unfortunately, even casual clothes suited him unnaturally well.
It took me a few agonizingly long seconds to realize he was actually standing—or rather, sitting—in front of me, and that my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me.
An icy chill crept over my skin, stopping the breath in my chest.
What is he doing here?
How…?
I glanced over at Lisa.
I had no idea how Matteo had figured out I was here, but right now I wanted to award my friend a trophy for peak stupidity.
Or just smack the back of her head.
Is she going to let every random guy into her apartment just because he claims to be my boyfriend?
“What are you doing here?” I asked, shifting my gaze back to Matteo.
I gripped my bath caddy so tightly my fingers went numb.
“Missed my girlfriend,” Matteo said, his eyes dropping to track slowly down my body.
Taking in my bare shoulders, my chest covered only by a thin tank top, my short shorts, and my bare legs.
His expression was impossible to read, but a sudden, desperate urge to cover myself swept over me.
I never let myself dress like this at home, where my stepbrother and his friends were constantly hanging around.
In Lisa’s apartment, alone with her, I could walk around in my underwear if I felt like it.
We had no problem changing in front of each other—but now…
“By the way, he’s ridiculously hot,” Lisa whispered in my ear as she brushed past me, keeping her voice so quiet only I could hear.
She flashed me a wink, clearly thrilled with my supposed choice in men.
Except he was not my damn boyfriend.
“Excuse us, we’re going outside,” I blurted before my brain could catch up with my actions.
I stepped up to Matteo, grabbed his wrist, and tugged him along.
Inside, I was boiling over—out of sheer desperation, out of the nightmare of seeing him again, and out of the overwhelming feeling that I was trapped.
Yet logically, I knew better than to put my hands on him.
So why the hell had I just taken him by the arm?
To my surprise, he complied smoothly, rising from the chair and following my lead.
He even let me drag him out into the hallway and past the front door.
Only after the door clicked shut behind us did I allow myself a shallow breath.
Was Lisa out of harm’s way now?
“You’re crossing every imaginable line.
How can you even do this?” I hissed under my breath, keeping my voice down to a whisper given how horribly the stairwell echoed.
“Please, just stop this, and…” “What’s wrong with you?” With his hands tucked in his jeans pockets, Matteo leaned in, searching my face.
He paid absolutely no attention to my words, as if he couldn’t care less about anything I was saying.
“Did you honestly think I’d be happy to see you?” It was only now that I realized I’d marched out into the stairwell still holding my bath caddy and towel.
My fingers tightened around them until my knuckles throbbed, a cold shiver racing over my skin just from being near him.
“No, that’s not what I mean.” He caught my chin with his fingers, tilting my head up.
“You look shattered.” The corners of my mouth twitched, slipping downward.
I did feel shattered—ever since Bianca had casually dropped the news about my father’s arrival in Naples.
But I was good at hiding it.
Even Lisa hadn’t picked up on a thing.
I had no idea how Matteo was reading me so easily.
“I’m fine,” I said, pressing my lips together.
A sudden tremor ran through me as the pad of his thumb traced slowly down my cheek.
It felt soft—unnaturally gentle—yet coming from him, the gesture felt eerie and deeply unsettling.
“Really?” He leaned in a fraction closer, and only now did I notice that his eyes were even darker than I’d thought.
“I am always fine.” Matteo’s eyelids fluttered lower, his gaze locked onto mine, and then he did the last thing I ever expected.
He closed the remaining distance between us, covering my lips with his own.
I froze instantly, as if a sharp electric shock had bound me hand and foot.
Any touch from Matteo already felt like a knife held to my throat, but this kiss was like the blade plunging right in.
Dangerous.
Terrifying.
But worst of all, somehow, the kiss felt inexplicably tender.