Emily's POV
I was the first to pull away.
Not because I wanted to.
Not because the kiss meant nothing.
But because it meant too much.
My hands slid slowly from Matteo's chest, like my body was reluctant to accept what my mind already knew. His breath was uneven, his forehead still resting against mine, his fingers tangled in my hair as if letting go would undo him completely.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
The silence was heavy. Loud. Dangerous.
I stepped back, my heart pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. The room suddenly felt too small, the air too thick. The faint smell of alcohol clung to him, mixing with something deeper. Grief. Regret. Loss.
"I am sorry," I whispered.
The words felt painfully small.
Matteo did not reach for me again.
That hurt more than if he had.
He straightened slowly, dragging a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening as if he was forcing himself back into control piece by piece. When he looked at me again, the vulnerability was gone. Replaced by distance. By the Matteo Rinaldi the world knew.
"You should go to bed," he said quietly. "It is late."
No explanation.
No acknowledgment.
No apology.
Just a door closing that had barely opened.
I nodded, unable to trust my voice, and turned away before he could see the sting in my eyes. Each step up the stairs felt heavier than the last, my chest burning with emotions I did not want to name.
In my room, I sat on the edge of the bed for a long time, staring at nothing.
The kiss replayed in my mind like a cruel loop. The way his hands had cradled my head. The way his lips had trembled against mine. The way he had whispered stay.
And then the way he had let me go.
Sleep came late and restless. When it finally claimed me, it was shallow, fractured by dreams of his voice, Sophia's laughter, and the constant sensation of being watched.
Morning arrived without mercy.
I woke early, my body heavy, my chest tight. For a brief moment, I wondered if last night had been a dream. But the ache beneath my ribs told me it was real.
As I headed downstairs, I heard a woman's voice. Curious, I quickened my steps, only to find myself face to face with a woman holding Sofia in her arms.
"Emily," Sofia squealed, her eyes lighting up the moment she saw me.
"Good morning, principessa," I smiled. "How are you?"
I moved toward the kitchen, reaching automatically for the coffee maker.
"And you are?" the woman asked, studying me with open curiosity.
"I'm Emily," I replied. "Sofia's new nanny."
"Oh," she said brightly. "I've heard a lot about you. From Matteo. I'm his friend. Mira."
Her warmth was immediate. Effortless.
"So," she continued cheerfully, "how has working with Matteo been? Fun? Difficult? Tell me."
"It's been fine," I replied carefully, taking a sip of coffee while fixing Sofia's sandwiches. "Nothing over the top."
She was about to respond when the sharp click of shoes echoed through the room.
"Mira?" Matteo said, surprise breaking through his voice. "You did not tell me you were back in Italy."
He smiled as he pulled her into a hug.
A sharp, unwelcome jealousy flared inside me.
So he could smile like that.
"Good morning, Papa," Sofia greeted, her mouth full.
His gaze shifted to her. Then to me.
"Good morning," I murmured, suddenly unsure where to place my hands.
"Good morning, principessa. Emily," he replied, stepping to the counter and taking a sip of the coffee I had made.
"Sooo," Mira said playfully, "do you have any plans for Emily today? I want the both of us to go shopping."
"Not really," Matteo said, eyes glued to his phone. "As long as she is back when Sofia is."
"Eccellente," Mira clapped. "Emily, you are free, right?"
The thought of being outside unsettled me. Stacy's threats still haunted me. But the idea of shopping, of something normal, was tempting.
"Yes," I said with a small smile. "I'd love to."
"Perfect," Mira grinned.
"Here," Matteo said suddenly.
I turned to see him holding out a sleek black card.
The black card.
I had only ever heard about it. A card with no spending limit. A card reserved for people whose wealth had no ceiling. People said you could buy two Ferraris with it and it would not even leave a dent.
"I can't possibly use your card, sir," I said quickly. "I have my own—"
"You do not need to refuse my offers every time, piccola donna," he said calmly, pressing it into my hand. "And I have told you to call me Matteo."
"Uhmm… thanks?" I muttered.
Mira's smile turned knowing.
"Piccola donna? Davvero?" she teased.
Little woman? Really?
"Non leggerci troppo," Matteo replied coolly.
Do not read too much into it.
Something about hearing him speak Italian did things to me that I refused to unpack. The low roll of his accent. The way his voice softened and sharpened at the same time. Heat curled low in my stomach and I had to clench my thighs, the memory of his mouth on mine crashing back without permission.
"All done," Sophia announced brightly, snapping the moment apart.
I had never been so grateful for a child's timing.
I hurried her upstairs to get her ready for school, using the few minutes alone to steady myself. To breathe. To remind myself who I was and why I was here.
Pull it together, Emily. You cannot fall for Matteo Rinaldi.
By the time I came back downstairs, Matteo was gone. The space he had occupied felt colder somehow. Only Mira remained, seated comfortably in the living room as if she belonged there.
I walked Sophia to the door, kissed her goodbye, and watched as her driver and bodyguard escorted her to the car.
When I turned back inside, Mira was already standing, grabbing her purse.
"So," she said brightly, "are you ready to go now?"
I hesitated for a fraction of a second.
Then I nodded.
"Yes," I said softly. "I guess I am."
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The car hummed along the Milanese streets, Mira chattering beside me about what shops we should hit first. My hands gripped the edge of the seat a little tighter than usual, my thoughts still tangled with the previous day's chaos.
My phone buzzed in my bag. I had a feeling it was Andrew calling about yesterday's incident.
I hesitated. Mira glanced at me curiously.
"Everything okay?" she asked.
I forced a smile. "Yeah. Just… work stuff."
I pulled the phone out, ignoring the knot in my stomach. Andrew's name glowed on the screen. My thumb hovered over the answer button. I knew I couldn't ignore him forever, and the thought of him worrying made me tense.
I pressed it.
"Emily?" His voice came through, a mix of concern and mild exasperation. "Are you okay? You just… disappeared yesterday."
I bit my lip, glancing out the window to keep Mira from noticing the subtle tension in my face. "I'm fine, Andrew. Really. I just… I had something urgent to handle. I'm sorry I left so suddenly."
"Urgent?" His voice softened, though I could hear the worry in it. "Emily, I'm not blind. You looked scared. Panicked even. You didn't even explain anything. I've been sitting here wondering if… if you were safe."
I swallowed, the guilt threading through me. "I am. I promise. Nothing happened. I just… I couldn't stay. I couldn't…" My voice faltered. I didn't tell him it was Stacy. He didn't need to know yet.
"Emily…" He sighed on the other end. "I get that you're under pressure, but you can't just vanish like that. You can't handle all of this on your own. Please, talk to me, even a little."
I closed my eyes, gripping the phone like it was a lifeline. "I know, Andrew. I really appreciate it. I promise… I'll explain everything soon. Just… not right now."
There was a pause. His voice was quieter, almost resigned. "Alright. But… be careful, okay? I don't want anything to happen to you. Or anyone with you."
I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "I will."
"Call me later. Please."
"I will," I whispered.
We hung up, and I slid the phone back into my bag. Mira glanced at me again.
"Is everything okay with that?" she asked, her voice gentle.
"Yeah," I said, forcing a smile. "Andrew just worries too much."
She nodded knowingly, but I could tell she suspected there was more. I didn't correct her. Not yet.
The car turned down a tree-lined avenue toward the mall. Milan in the afternoon was alive and colorful, but I felt a tension coiled inside me that no street, no sunshine, could unravel. The shadows of Stacy, of Matteo, of yesterday's kiss, of Andrew's worry, all of it pressed against my chest, heavy and insistent.
And yet, despite it all, I felt the need to step into something normal, something light, even if just for a few hours.
Mira reached for my hand as if she could sense my unease. "We'll have fun today," she said simply. "Promise. Nothing will ruin it."
I nodded, letting her optimism sink in, even if only a little.
But somewhere in the back of my mind, a quiet voice whispered: nothing was ever that simple.