CHAPTER 4: BUMPED

MARA'S POV

I wake with a sharp breath and stare at the ceiling while the last pieces of the dream disappear, but his face is still there.

That stupid, arrogant face with those dark eyes and those lips that had no business feeling that good against mine.

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Mara, you are a total mess.”

My voice sounds ridiculous in the quiet bedroom. I turn onto my side and pull the blanket over my head as if I can hide from my own thoughts. It doesn't work.

I remember the way he grabbed me, the warmth of his body against mine, and the way his voice dropped when he told me he needed my help. I remember being terrified, then confused, and then—his lips.

God. Why am I still thinking about his lips?

I have been kissed before, okay, just once back in college during a dare game, but atleast i know what a kiss feels like.

So why does this one keep replaying in my head like someone has pressed a button and forgotten to turn it off?

I sit up and rub both hands over my face.

“Get a grip, Mara. Stop acting like you haven't been kissed by a man.”

I swing my legs out of bed, rubbing my temple slowly, and suddenly the memory from last night flashes before my eyes again. I remember my fingers catching briefly in his hair when everything happened so fast, and I remember how soft it felt beneath my hand.

I groan and fall backward onto the mattress. He is the most irritating man I have ever met, and somehow my brain has decided that his hair deserves a permanent place in my memory.

Then I remember his face when I slapped him, that smug little smile, that ridiculous confidence. The way he looked at me as though my anger entertained him.

“Idiot.”

My phone starts ringing. I reach for it without looking at the screen. “Hello?”

“You sound half asleep.” The voice is low and deep.

I sit upright. Adrian? Just hearing his voice does something stupid to me that I have spent years pretending doesn't happen.

“Adrian, yes, I was sleeping.” I say.

“I figured from how lazy your voice sounds.”

I smile before I can stop myself. “Why are you calling this early?”

“Because I told you I would remind you about today.”

I glance at the clock. “Oh my God.”

“You forgot? Please don't tell me you forgot.”

“No, I mean...” I absolutely forgot.

“Maybe a little.” I let out a breathless laugh.

He laughs. “Mara, you're supposed to meet my mother at eleven. She's expecting you.”

“For the gardener position, right?”

“Yes, genius.”

I throw the blanket aside and jolt out of bed.

“Adrian, how could I forget? I have been looking for an extra job for weeks. I am not going to forget the one interview that could actually help me right now.”

“That’s more like it.” His voice softens. “My mother already likes you. She would definitely give you the job, so you don't have to worry.”

I smile. His mother does like me. I've known Adrian for six years, ever since college, and somehow becoming friends with him was the easiest thing in the world.

Falling in love with him was not. He has never looked at me the way I've looked at him.

He notices beautiful women everywhere we go, and he isn't even subtle about it. He calls them elegant, sophisticated, fancy in front of me. He once spent fifteen minutes telling me about a woman he'd met at some charity event because apparently she had “the kind of presence people remember.”

I had laughed and pretended I didn't care. I'm very good at pretending by the way.

“Are you still there?” he asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Unfortunately. I am.”

“Good, get dressed.”

“Yeah, I will be there soon.”

“Don't be late.”

“I won't.”

“And Mara?”

“Yes?”

“I'm glad you're finally coming over to my place. I can't wait to have you work close to me.”

My smile gets bigger, my stomach flutters, and I can feel butterflies dancing all over it. Is this what I think it is?

“Me too.” I smile like a wolf in heat.

He hangs up. I stare at my phone for a moment longer than necessary. There it is, that stupid little feeling again, the one I've carried quietly for years.

Adrian is my best friend. That is all I am to him, his best friend and nothing more. He has repeated it so many times that the words have finally carved themselves into my skull.

I shower, dress in the simplest yellow outfit, with a deep V-neck at the back that screams simple but inviting, then leave for the Vescari manor.

By the time I reach the gates, my heart pounds so loudly in my ears that I almost turn around.

The place is enormous in an intimidating kind of way, the kind of place that swallows you whole. Tall iron gates open onto a long stone driveway bordered by perfectly trimmed hedges and old trees. Security cameras sit discreetly beneath the rooflines, and two men in dark suits watch every vehicle that enters.

I have never been to Adrian's house because he never invited me over, and I figured I never belonged in his world. But being here now gives me an aching chill.

I remind myself why I'm here. I am here for the job, to raise some money for my mother's medical bills and to help my brother. Nothing else.

A housekeeper leads me through the front doors. The inside is even more intimidating than the outside, with polished floors, dark wood, enormous windows, and paintings that probably cost more than my family's entire neighborhood.

Then Isabella Vescari appears with a warm smile and a look that leaves me breathless.

“Mara.” She hugs me before I can decide whether I should offer my hand.

“Mrs. Vescari.”

“Oh, stop it. It's Isabella, please.”

I smile. “Thank you for meeting with me, ma'am.”

“My dear, you're here for lunch, not an interrogation.”

Adrian appears behind her.

“You see? I told you she wouldn't bite.”

His mother gives him a look.

“Unlike you, I know how to behave around guests.”

“That's debatable.” I laugh.

For a little while, I forget how nervous I am. Vittorio Vescari joins us shortly afterward, and there is something about him that makes the entire room seem to straighten around his presence.

He is older, imposing, and quiet in a way that makes the ground disappear beneath me. He asks about my experience with plants, what I studied, and what kind of gardens I have worked with. I answer carefully.

By the time lunch is announced, I am beginning to believe I might actually get the position. Then the front doors open. I hear footsteps and turn, and my stomach drops.

No, absolutely not. It can't be the stranger from last night. What the hell is he doing here?

I thought I had gotten a good look at the beautiful man I saw back at the flower shop.

I was wrong. God help me.

The man who had kissed me last night now stands before me, and somehow, seeing him in the light makes everything worse. He looks like sin itself.

He is beautiful in a way that feels almost wrong, with a sharp jaw, dark hair, and a strong, perfectly built frame hidden beneath a black shirt and tailored jacket. Everything about him is dark, expensive, and controlled, as though he belongs to a world where ordinary rules do not apply.

His dark hair is slightly messy, like he has run impatient fingers through it on the way inside, and the careless strands falling across his face only make him more unfairly attractive.

My fingers tighten around the edge of the chair.I forget that other people are in the room. For one terrible second, all I can see is the man who kissed me last night.

His eyes move across the room and they find me. The look in those dark eyes makes my stomach drop. It is not the look of a man who has just discovered someone familiar, It is the look of a predator that has found it's prey.

His eyes hold mine, and I suddenly become painfully aware of everything about him. The sharp line of his jaw. The full shape of his lips. The quiet confidence in the way he stands. Even the slight movement of his shoulders as he walks toward us makes my pulse jump. Then his mouth moves.

“Bingo.”

My heart seems to stop.

I forget to breathe.

The universe has to be playing a sick joke on me. Of every family in the entire city, of every wealthy family that could possibly employ me, I somehow walked into the home of the one man whose kiss I have spent the entire morning trying not to remember.

And then I notice Adrian looking at him.

“Finally,” Adrian mutters. “The favored son decides to come home.”

Damian's gaze moves to him.

“Hey, I wouldn't be here if Dad hadn't insisted.”

His mother immediately reaches for his arm.

“Stop embarrassing yourselves in front of our guest.”

Damian smiles and kisses her cheek.

“Good afternoon, Mother.”

Then his eyes move across the room. They land on me, and my heart feels like it's about to tear out of my chest.

He knows. Of course he knows. There is the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth. I want to disappear, I want to run, I want to crawl under the table and stay there until everyone leaves.

Instead, I sit perfectly still and pray my face isn't giving away the fact that I kissed this man less than twelve hours ago.

Adrian gestures toward me. “Damian, this is Mara, my best friend.”

A weak smile tugs at my lips. Best friend. The words shouldn't hurt anymore, but they still do.

“And Mara,” Adrian's voice pulls me back to the table. “This is my brother, Damian.”

My entire body goes cold. Brother? The man I kissed last night is Adrian's brother?

I stare at him with trembling eyes. He looks entirely too pleased with himself. I should say something. Anything.

“Hi,” I manage, extending my shaky hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Before I can finish, Damian takes my hand, his fingers closing around mine.

“Save the introduction,” he says calmly. “I've met her.”

Isabella and Adrian speak at exactly the same time. “You have?”

I nearly choke. Damian's thumb moves once across the back of my hand.

He is enjoying this. This bastard is enjoying this.

I force a laugh. “No, oh my God, no, he's joking.”

Damian looks at me. “I am joking? Really?”

I smile so hard my cheeks hurt. “Yes, you are obviously joking. How can—”

I stop myself.

“How can what?” Adrian asks, curiosity filling his eyes.

“Nothing, Adrian.” My voice comes out too quickly. I pause, catching my breath, then look at Damian, forcing my eyes steady on his. “I am glad I finally get to see Adrian's brother.”

Damian's eyes glitter. “Oh, yeah?”

I can feel his fingers still wrapped around mine, the warmth from his hands making me uneasy.

“Maybe I mistook you for someone I met recently at a flower shop.”

My stomach twists. I lower my gaze, avoiding his eyes, and stare at the floor instead.

He tilts his head slightly and continues. “She looked exactly like you.” His mouth curves. “Just like a butterfly.”

Adrian's expression changes. He looks from Damian to me, then back to Damian.

“Damian.”

“What?”

“You just came in and you're already causing trouble for my guest.”

Damian releases my hand, and Adrian steps between us slightly.

“You don't have to get noticed everywhere you go, you know that right?.”

Damian laughs. “I can't help being memorable.”

“Just go upstairs already. Dad is waiting for you.” Adrian snaps, gesturing towards the staircase.

Damian glances toward his mother. “Apparently I'm wanted.”

He kisses his mother's cheek again, then looks directly at me and winks. My breath catches before I can stop it.

Damian turns and walks upstairs. I watch him disappear. Adrian drops into the chair beside me.

“Sorry about him, that's just how he is, full of trouble.”

I force my eyes back to the table. “It's okay, total vibes, I guess,” I say, forcing a smile.

How did Adrian Vescari never think to tell me about his brother? I have known and loved him for six years. Damian Vescari is the man whose kiss I can't seem to let go of. And somehow, they end up being brothers?