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 my blood boil.

 

As if it wasn't bad enough that he kept wrecking my peace of mind by acting so indifferent about his family and letting his son treat me like trash. Yeah, I saw his son's social media allegations about me.

 

Callng me a slut would have been better.

 

"Don't you dare try to control me," I hissed through gritted teeth.

 

Still, I couldn't lie to myself-some small, secret part of me felt... wanted. The fact that he was so insistent about knowing where I was, that he sounded almost panicked at the thought of me being out alone, made me feel like maybe I mattered to him more than he let on.

 

"Do you remember?"

 

I frowned, confused. "Remember what?"

 

My head was still throbbing from the drinks I'd downed earlier to numb the sting of always coming in second to him and his complicated life. After work, I had to vista a bar. After all, that was what lead me to this mess at the first place.

 

He leaned closer, and even though every rational part of me screamed to pull away, the tipsy, reckless side wanted nothing more than to feel his mouth on mine again.

 

To feel his arms around me, the way they used to.

 

But I knew better. If I gave in now, it would mean I'd crumbled, that all the ignored calls and cold texts I'd sent to prove I could live without him had been for nothing.

 

So why couldn't I move? Why did my feet stay rooted as he closed the distance, until finally his lips brushed mine?

 

I fought to swallow the soft, involuntary sound that escaped when he kissed me-slow at first, then deeper, hungrier.

 

Somewhere in the fog of my mind I knew I would regret this later, but right then I couldn't pull away.

 

I missed him. God help me, I missed this...the warm, scent of his cologne, the rough scrape of his hands cradling my face, the faint tickle of his mustache against my lip.

 

I missed it all, but I refused to be stupid enough to let a fleeting rush of heat blind me again.

 

He will go right back to his wife and his bratty son tomorrow, and I will be the one left broken.

 

Still, I kissed him back just as fiercely. Until his hand slid to my throat.

 

At first I let it happen because I wanted it too, but then his palm drifted lower, cupping my breast.

 

I knew if I let him keep going, I wouldn't be able to stop. I gasped, jerked back, and shoved his hand away.

 

"What's wrong?" he asked, genuinely startled.

 

"Get out of my house," I snapped, glaring.

 

He tilted his head, studying me with that quiet, unreadable look of his.

 

"You're not yourself, Isabella. You're drunk. Let me make you some coffee-it'll help clear your head. Go freshen up, I'll handle it."

 

I tried to control my expression as he turned and headed for the kitchen.

Part of me wanted to pretend I was still wasted, so if he ever brought up the kiss tomorrow I could play dumb. But I knew he had see right through it.

 

"I don't want coffee," I called after him.

 

It infuriated me how his concern made my stupid heart flutter, how it tricked me into thinking I was special to him. But I knew better. He was just being decent. Just like an average-good man.

 

He ignored me and came back with a steaming mug and that soft, almost domestic smile that looked far too right on him in my space.

 

It hurt more than it should.

 

"Here. Drink. You'll feel better," he said, handing it over.

 

I took it reluctantly, already knowing I wouldn't be able to resist him for long.

 

He was right, though. The first hot sip soothed the pounding in my skull almost instantly.

 

I finished the rest in a few gulps and glanced over just in time to see him shrugging off his suit jacket and draping it over the arm of the sofa before heading toward the bedroom.

 

My stomach dropped.

 

"What are you doing?" I demanded.

 

No way were we sharing a bed again. I couldn't handle lying next to him without craving his touch, and that would destroy me.

 

"I'm going to the bedroom," he said casually, glancing around like he didn't understand why I was asking.

 

"Yeah, I can see that. But what exactly do you plan to do in there? We are not sleeping in the same bed. You know that."

 

A slow, knowing smirk curved his lips. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing to me.

 

"I know. I just don't know what it'll take to convince you to let me stay in the room. But if you're that set against it, I'll take the sofa. You can have the bed."

 

Relief flooded through me. At least he wasn't going to argue.

 

"I insist," I said firmly.

 

He gave a small shrug and that half-smile before dropping back onto the sofa.

 

I walked to the bedroom on unsteady legs, shutting the door firmly behind me. Not because I thought he would barge in, but because I didn't trust myself not to sneak out in the middle of the night and crawl onto the couch with him.

 

That's how badly I had it for him.

 

The next morning I woke up in a panic, already way behind schedule for work. I stripped quickly and headed for the shower, only to realize my toothbrush was still by the kitchen sink.

 

I hesitated, debating whether to wrap myself in a towel, but decided Mateo would probably have left by now anyway. He always do.

 

I hurried out and froze.

 

There he was, standing in the middle of the living room, eyes wide as he stared at my very naked body.

 

Shock held me in place for a second before reality hit and I scrambled to cover myself.

 

Without a word, he tugged off his shirt and held it out to me before turning away.

 

"Don't bother coming into the office today," he said quietly. "Take the day off."

 

Then he walked out of the room, shirtless, leaving me clutching his shirt and trying to catch my breath. 

 

No. Not again. I stormed out to see him seating on the couch. 

 

"Why?" 

 

He frowned "To see if you were awake" he shrugged. 

 

I chuckled and placed both hands on my hips "Why are you here? Where did you come last night" why are you acting like I mean nothing to you? " 

 

He just stared. Furious, I nodded. 

 

" A fuck mate" I answered for him " Valarie or whatever her name is embarrassed me. I have a small followers of haters online and you son... You son is one is them and you are saying nothing?" I yelled. 

 

Mateo remained expressionless. He moved closer but I step back. " It's complicated, Isabella. Valetina and I aren't married. Never married. It was just a... Just a mistake " he shrugged. 

 

A mistake huh. I bet I was a mistake to him too. The blank look on his face showed me what I needed to know. 

 

" Okay sir, I will see you at work" I took off this shirt and walked to the bathroom naked.