Celeste;
From my window, I hear the revving of an engine pulling into the estate before flashy headlights reflect on my curtains, staining the opposite wall with bright yellow. The engine dies, and the light goes off.
I wait patiently.
His movement is fluid as he alights, walking into the house, a plastic bag in his hold.
Making haste, I flop back onto the bed—not without inching the drapes closed. Falling onto the mattress, I pull my hair tighter into the bun I'd earlier arranged.
Making it easier and swifter, I pull my nightdress over my head, leaving it on the bed while I sprint to the bathroom.
The cold of the steel scalds my fingers as I turn the shower on, letting the water drizzle.
Only wetting my face and legs, I snag my towel and wrap it around my body, still in my lingerie.
And then I wait.
My breaths are choppy and shallow, the biting cold prickling my skin.
It takes ten minutes before a gentle knock rasps against my door.
Jittery excitement races with adrenaline through my system.
I step out into the bedroom, all damp and disheveled.
He doesn't need to raise his fist twice. "Come in," I mutter.
The dim glow pouring from the lit lamp catches on the doorknob as it drops with a twist, the door pushing open.
"Hi." Smiling widely, I sit up from my sprawled posture.
The dim light from the lamp catches his tall shadow as he walks further in. "How are you?"
Getting up, I meet him halfway. "I'm fine." I take the plastic bag from him, setting it on my bed before going behind him.
Romano lets his gaze follow me, a flash of confusion crossing his features, but he quietly lets me take his suit jacket off him.
"You've been gone all day. How was work today?" I ask, slowly peeling the sleeves away from his lean, muscled arms.
I think I spot a grimace before he says, "Just fine."
Doesn't take a lie detector to predict that he's lying.
"Are you sure?" I'm already walking away, but I can feel his sweltering gaze on me as I move to hang his suit on my dresser chair.
Proven right when I face him—his eyes are pinned on me…unashamedly.
A muscle visibly throbs in his sharp jaw. "Yeah."
"If you say so." I purse my lips, though it's obvious that he's clearly bothered.
Romano's gaze fixates on my body, dragging slowly from my legs, just above my thighs where the hem of the towel ends, and over to where it's knotted above my breasts—it lingers.
I feel a crawling heat under my skin where his gaze burns me.
So he's like other men after all?
"Did I interrupt your shower?" he asks, now looking me in the eyes.
I blink, caught off guard by the question. "No, I was already done before I heard you knock."
He nods, all of a sudden not looking at my wet skin anymore.
The plastic bag catches my attention, and I force warmth to creep up my neck—even though he can't exactly see it. "Thank you. I've been craving this for days now, I just didn't know how to tell you."
"You're welcome." A lazy smile settles on his mouth. "Don't hesitate to tell me if you ever need anything."
Sawing on my lower lip, I bob my head shyly.
"The weather is not friendly, Piccola mia. Go put something on," Romano drawls, his tone becoming firm.
"Oh, I will…but—" I shake my head sideways. "Never mind," I say instead.
His sharp exhale slices the air, the thumping of his shiny wingtips whispering against the marble as he stalks toward me. "But what?" His voice is low.
I gulp, warmth rising beneath my skin. I part my mouth to mumble, "I was thinking…" My fingers thread into my hair, swiping it behind my ear. "…I was hoping you'd stay with me tonight."
His eyebrows slant. "Why?"
The way he doesn't hesitate to pose the question has me double-guessing my plan.
"Okay, I didn't tell you, but for a few days now, there's this shadow that I see at my door." I flick a glance to gauge his expression.
Seems like it's working. His slanted brows remain furrowed, dimpled cheeks hardened.
"I've noticed it for a few nights…on and off, though. But I know—I feel it. Someone's always there," A feverish exhale slips from my parted lips. "And I'm scared, Romano." I whisper softly.
The twisted thing now is…I'm being awfully truthful. I wish it's a lie I made up. But it's not.
It's been happening since the night of the family dinner. But I don't tell Romano that little bit.
"You're sure about this?" he cuts me a look.
I let my pupils widen, bobbing my head hurriedly. "A hundred percent sure," I murmur.
Romano remains silent, the stillness ravaging my nerves, my chest pounding with heightened anticipation.
As much as I hate to interrupt the adept concentration of whatever thoughts he's mulling over, I say, "Is it something s-serious?" letting my voice tremble, dripping with fear.
His riveting attention snaps to me, features hard and dead set. I guess he reads the dread on my face. A slow smile creeps onto his lips, tilted, as he takes my hair between his fingers.
"There's nothing to worry about. I'll fix it."
If this weren't just a means to an end for me, my heart would have pulsed and thrashed to stupor.
Because the intensity in those green eyes when he spouts that assurance? Fuck me.
"I don't want to stay here tonight, Romano," I tell him, my tone bordering on a sob. Eyes already filling with moisture.
He regards me for a silent, goddamned two minutes straight—not even distracted by the dampness my hair smears onto his fingers or my towel-clad body.
Romano's gaze lingers, sharp and searching, like he's trying to peel something open beneath my skin. His jaw tightens slightly before he exhales through his nose.
Then he pulls back, feet thudding as he goes to my bed and picks up the goodies he returned with.
"I'll wait outside. Put your clothes on, and we'll have a sleepover in my bedroom."
It takes everything in me not to jump and squeak in accomplishment.
Every molecule bursts with refreshed adrenaline.
I set my damp gaze on his dimpled, lazy grin.
While I fight mine.