Chapter 31

Zara’s POV

DAYS LATER

Avoiding someone in a mansion this large shouldn’t have been difficult. And yet somehow, Matteo was everywhere.

I hadn’t seen him since the argument we had. Since his cold apology. Since the way he’d stood there like I was just another mistake to be filed away and managed.

Luckily for me, the mansion had enough wings, corridors, and unused rooms to house ghosts. And yet somehow, I felt him everywhere.

In the echo of his footsteps downstairs, in the murmur of men’s voices coming from the study late at night. In the way the air shifted when he walked into a room, even if I couldn’t see him yet.

I hadn’t spoken to him since that day. Since his apology, that wasn’t even an apology. Since the cold way he’d reduced that kiss to something procedural. Something to file away.

And I hated that it still replayed in my mind. I hated that I remembered the warmth more than the humiliation.

By Wednesday, I had perfected my schedule. Breakfast early. Dinner upstairs. Study in the far library. Leave before he enters a room.

Marco noticed. But chose not to say a word and I respect him for that. Loved how it was that he acted like there was nothing indeed going on.

Most especially me pretending that I didn’t feel something in this house every time Matteo walked past me without looking.

*********************************************

Thursday night, I made a mistake. I came downstairs for water. Late enough that I assumed he’d be out. The kitchen lights were dim and the whole house quiet as usual.

I exhaled and stepped toward the counter but then I heard the clink of glass and I turned slowly to find the one person I had been avoiding standing by the island, sleeves rolled up, pouring himself a drink.

He didn’t look surprised to see me either. I mean of course, he didn’t.

His eyes lifted lazily from the amber liquid in his glass and landed on me. No greeting, no expression either. Just an acknowledgement.

And I stiffened. I considered turning around. Instead, I summoned up courage and walked past him, opening a cabinet for a glass.

Silence stretched between us. But all I cared about was getting my glass and getting away.

“You’re loud,” he said, suddenly breaking the silence.

My grip tightened on the cabinet door. “Excuse me?”

“You move like you want to be heard or like you're trying to prove a point.”

I turned sharply. “Or maybe I’m just living.”

His gaze on me remained cool. “Barely.”

The audacity.

“I didn’t realize my presence required your approval.”

“It doesn’t,” he replied evenly with a smirk. “Your behavior does.”

I stifled a laugh. “My behavior?”

“You disappear from common areas. Refuse meals. Pretend you're not under someone.”

“Well that's clearly because I'm not under anyone,” I shot back.

Something flickered in his eyes as he leaned on the counter.

“You’re dramatic,” he said.

“And you’re arrogant,” I snapped back and his jaw flexed slightly.

“If you have something to say,” I continued, “say it.”

“I already did,” he replied. “You're loud!”

“There you go again,” I muttered.

“Again what?”

“Talking like you're some scheduled error.”

He set his glass down. Slowly and then turned to look at me.

“You’re the one turning it into something else.”

I stared at him.

“You started it” I said quietly.

“And?”

“And you don’t get to act like that didn’t matter.”

His expression didn’t change.

“It didn’t,” he said. The words landed harder than I expected and my throat tightened despite myself.

That single word cut more than any argument. No hesitation, no conflict at all. Just an agreement. And I hated that it felt that way.

He picked up his drink again. Conversation clearly over. Just like that. And I walked past him without another word, he didn’t stop me. And I didn't look back.

*******************************************

The next morning was worse. I came downstairs for breakfast deliberately. Concluding in my head that if we were going to coexist, then fine. We’d coexist.

He was already seated at the head of the table. Suit immaculate. Expression cold as usual.

He didn’t look up when I entered. I sat down across from him. The only sounds that echoed between us were the cutlery against porcelain.

And more silence lingered. After a moment, he spoke without looking at me, finally breaking the silence.

“Marco will take you to school, butI will send the other driver to come pick you up when you're done.”

“I can manage.”

“I’m not debating it.”

“I wasn’t asking.” His eyes finally lifted.

“You don’t leave this house without security.”

“I moved around my old place without security and I made it out alive”

“Not anymore.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

I leaned back in my chair. “You don’t own me.”

“No,” he agreed calmly. “But you live under my roof.”

I felt heat rise to my face as I slammed my fork to my plate angrily.

“You love reminding me of that.”

“You seem to forget.”

“You don’t always have to treat me like a liability,” I said.

“You are one.”

The bluntness stunned me.

“A liability?” I repeated.

“You don’t understand the world you’re in,” he said evenly. “And until you do, you follow instructions.”

“Or what?” I asked, daring him to say it and his gaze held mine for a long second.

“Or you deal with the consequences.”

In anger I perked up to my feet abruptly, chair scraping against the floor.

“I’m done.”

“Sit down.”

“No.”

His expression hardened. For a second, I thought he might push further. Instead, he looked away.

“Do whatever you want,” he said dismissively and that stung. And without any response, I grabbed my bag and walked toward the door.

Not once did he call after me. That was the worst part, not the arguments, not the tension.

The indifference.

By evening when I got back, the house felt colder than ever. We crossed paths twice. Once in the hallway. Once near the study.

But neither of us spoke, neither of us slowed, so it felt like strangers under the same roof.

And yet every time I felt his presence near me, my body betrayed me with awareness.

I hated it. I hated that even in his coldness, he still affected me. That even when he treated me like an inconvenience, my heart reacted to every damn thing.

That night, as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, I finally understood something.

This wasn’t about the kiss anymore. I was slowly getting affected by him.