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CH 18

bebeeizrael
last update Zuletzt aktualisiert: 25.02.2026 19:39:24

The hospital doors hissed shut behind us like they were glad to be rid of me. Mateo kept one arm around my waist—loose, but there. His fingers drummed against my hip, restless. Every time we passed a nurse or a gurney, his eyes flicked over me like I might shatter. I have a medical degree for Pete's sake. Does he know that about me?

 

He didn’t ask about Tony.  

Not once.

 

When I told him the receptionist’s name, he blinked. “Who?”

 

“Tony. Fifth floor. You hired him.”

 

He shrugged. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

 

I stopped walking. “He almost bled out. And you don’t even know his name?”

 

Mateo’s jaw tightened. “I sign the checks, Bell. Not the name tags.”

 

Something cold slid through my chest. If he didn’t care about the people who worked for him—who the hell was I?

 

Ethan waited by the car, eyes flicking between us in the rear-view mirror. Every time our gazes locked, he looked away fast. Good. Let him squirm.

 

“Hang around,” Mateo told him. “I’ll call when I need you.”

 

The drive home was quiet. Mateo stared out the window. I stared at the back of Ethan's head, imagining driving a stiletto through it.

 

Inside my apartment, Mateo didn’t wait. He peeled my ruined blouse off like it offended him, tossed it straight in the bin. Then my pants. My bra. Left me in nothing but the towel I grabbed in the bathroom. Blood crusted on my hands, my arms, my neck. I looked like I had murdered someone.

 

He steered me toward the shower. “I can help—”

 

“I’ve got it.” I shut the door before he could follow.

 

The water ran pink. I scrubbed until my skin was raw. When I came out, towel knotted tight, Mateo was perched on the edge of my bed. Shirt sleeves rolled up, tie gone. Staring at the floor like it owed him money.

 

I made tea. Honey for me. Sugar for him. Almost handed him mine by mistake—remembered the allergy lie too late.

 

He took it anyway. Drank. Didn’t flinch.

 

I sat opposite. “Thank you, Sir.”

 

His head snapped up. Eyes dark. Unreadable.

 

“I can go back to work today,” I added. Voice small.

 

He stood. Crossed the room in two strides. Cupped my face—gentle, but his thumb pressed hard against my cheekbone like he was checking if I was real.

 

“You think I’m worried about your dad?” he murmured.

 

I swallowed. “Aren’t you?”

 

Mateo’s laugh was soft. Dangerous. “No.” he shook his head.

 

He leaned in. Kissed me. Tasted like honey and lies. I still accidentally gave him mine.

 

I jerked back. “The tea—”

 

“I’m not allergic to shit, Bell.” He brushed past me. Grabbed his jacket. “Trash out. Dress nice. Dante’s picking you up at five.”

 

The door clicked shut.

 

I locked it. Leaned against it. Breath shaky.

 

Dante.

 

Not Ethan..

 

Five o’clock.

 

I spent the afternoon scrubbing blood out of my nails. The dress Mateo bought me—black, clingy, neckline plunging—hung on the closet door like a dare. I put it on. Stared at myself in the mirror. Cleavage on full display. Bruise still a little purple under the concealer. Pretty though.

 

At 5:12 the doorbell rang.

 

Not Ethan.  

Dante—ink-black hair, eyeliner sharp enough to cut glass, mouth flat.

 

“Mr. Rossi sent me.”

 

We didn’t speak the whole ride. The restaurant was marble and gold and too quiet. Mateo waited at a corner table. Eyes raked over me—slow, deliberate. Like he was memorizing every inch.

 

“No need for formalities,” he said when I sat. “You look fucking edible. Jacket next time. Or I’ll take it off myself.”

 

Heat flashed across my skin. I reached for the menu. Ordered champagne when I meant water.

 

He watched me drink. Smiled.

 

“I’m not allergic to anything, Isabella.”

 

The name felt foreign. Like a warning.

 

“You’re a very pretty woman,” he said. “Your father would be proud.”

 

My stomach twisted. “You’re his best friend, M—” I caught myself. “Mateo.”

 

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Since we were toddlers.”

 

I took a sip. Another. The bubbles burned. I didn't know that. Does that mean he knew me before the bar that night?

 

“I don’t think we can keep doing this,” I blurted. “You’re my boss. My dad’s best friend. It’s—”

 

“Wrong?” He leaned forward. Voice low. “Then why are you still here, Angioletto?”

 

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Should he even ask me that?

 

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  • Falling For My Father's Best Friend    CH 28

    The cab pulled up to a gated driveway that felt more like the entrance to a private estate than a house. Tall black iron gates, flanked by stone pillars and climbing ivy. A long, curved driveway lined with perfectly trimmed hedges and soft ground lights that glowed amber against the evening. The mansion itself rose behind them , modern but timeless, all clean lines, dark glass, and pale stone that caught the last of the sunset. As much as I thought it was too much, it was exactly what I expected from Mateo Rossi.The driver hesitated. Looking like we had gone lost from the rearview mirror."You sure this is the place, miss?"I nodded and offered to pay buy he just stared."I got already. With huge tips too" he smiled.Well, that was expected.The gates slid open silently before I even reached them - someone was watching. I knew he was.A woman in a crisp black uniform met me at the front steps. Mid-forties, kind eyes, gentle smile. "Miss Hartley. Mr. Rossi is expecting you. Please,

  • Falling For My Father's Best Friend    CH 27

    Saturday morning arrived, sunlight filtering through the gaps in the blinds. I pried my eyes open, met with a dull, throbbing ache behind my temples – not a full-blown, incapacitating hangover, but the kind that served as a sharp reminder of last night's poor decisions. Gin. Just one glass, I'd told myself. Clearly, one was enough to leave my mouth tasting like stale regret."I am slowly becoming an alcoholic" I muttered.I groaned, rolling onto my side. My fingers fumbled for my phone on the nightstand. No new messages from Mateo. No missed calls.Nothing but the cold, indifferent silence. I was getting pissed I haven't gotten a reply from my dad yet. I stared at the blank conversation, willing his name to pop up, a message to appear. Today was different, I told myself. Today I didn't have to plaster on a fake smile and pretend everything was fine at work. Today I could just... breathe.Dragging myself to the kitchen, I filled the kettle and spooned coffee into the coffee maker. I m

  • Falling For My Father's Best Friend    CH 26

    I still went to work. He was my boas but I was already doing nothing to take another off days.I had to fix this. Had to apologize. Had to see him. Maybe I was too harsh this morning. Seem like yesterday he wanted to tell me something but I was too crazy enough not to listen.What does he even remember? The night? The sex from the bar? Maybe he really remembers me. And he said he was married. Never married.Shit.I walked to his office first thing. Heart in my throat. Knocked once. No answer. Knocked again. Nothing.I stood there for a minute like an idiot, then turned around and went back to my desk. Maybe he was in a meeting. Maybe he took the day off. Maybe he was avoiding me now. He knew I was coming.Not knowing what to do, I went to my office and settled in. To keep myself busy I tried to dust somethings but they were spotless. I sat down. Stared at my screen. Didn't turn it on, just watching."God! I need work!!!" Half an hour later I found myself walking around where I cro

  • Falling For My Father's Best Friend    CH 25

    °Isabella's POV°I had a feeling Mateo was inside when I approached the door and saw it was unlocked. And sure enough, I was right.He was the only one with a key to my place, and even though I'd told him a hundred times not to just let himself in without asking, he kept doing it anyway.Honestly, the moment I stepped inside and saw him stretched out on the sofa-looking so relaxed and almost fragile-something tightened in my chest.I wanted to shield him from the world.But as I leaned down to brush my fingers through his hair and trace the line of his jaw, the ugly words his wife had thrown at me came rushing back. Before I could stop myself, my hand was already rising to strike him.Of course, that didn't stop my pulse from racing when his eyes fluttered open and he looked up at me, still heavy with sleep.That dizzying feeling lasted only until he spoke."Don't go out by yourself again. Don't leave without telling me."The words grated on me. He was trying to cage me, and it made m

  • Falling For My Father's Best Friend    CH 24

    I gave her a lot of space. She said she was busy and I let her rest. She said she had 'work' and I let her be. She said she needed to breathe and I let her. At this point she was avoiding me and I knew it.Apology would have gone a lone way but I needed to see her face in and tell her everything.It was starting to feel off in a way that gnawed at me. Two full days now. Not once had Isabella stepped foot in my office. Not once had she answered a message. Not once had she even looked in my direction when I passed her floor. It was like she'd built a wall overnight - and I was on the wrong side of it.I kept asking myself the same questions, over and over, like a man trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing. What did I do? Was it the way I left her place that night - bruised, bleeding, refusing to give her answers? Was it something I said? Or was she just... done with me?I'd sent Aisha. Sent messages through reception. Even had one of the assistants knock on her doo

  • Falling For My Father's Best Friend    ch 23

    Those words from Lucian kept circling back no matter how hard I tried to push them away. "When does she even die?"My own son - twelve years old - already sounding like he'd swallowed every bitter thing his mother ever said about women who got close to me. I sat in the driver's seat with the engine off, drumming my fingers against my temple, trying to make sense of it. Where the hell was he getting ideas like that? Lately he's been... changing. Slipping cash out of my wallet when he thinks I'm not looking. Cursing under his breath when he's angry. Slamming doors. Ignoring me when I call his name. Acting like the whole world owes him something. I should have taken him avway from her. But that would be cruel, taking a child away from his mother. He deserves love but not this type.I thought moving him away from Valentina would fix it. New school. New city. Me actually being around for once. I thought I could raise him better than she ever could. But apparently you can't scrub a

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