Page 95 of Mafia And Maid
I glue my eyes to the counter, willing my heart to settle. But the fluttering has turned into a thundering gallop in my chest. “Chicken risotto, green beans, and a side salad.”
“Sounds delicious.”
I nod stiffly, turning back to the meal. Anything to keep my gaze from wandering over to the table.
“Can I help?” He’s closer. The sound of his voice is louder, and the scent of him so near to me sends me spiraling back into the gym when his body was pressed against me. I squeeze my legs tighter together. “N-no. That’s okay.”
“Sure?”
“Yep,” I squeak as I turn quickly, setting the pan on the stove.
He murmurs something to Ethan, but I can’t quite catch what he says. Ethan’s tiny footsteps echo as he leaves the room and goes up the staircase, presumably to get something from his bedroom.
The walls are pressing in. My chest constricts. I don’t want to be alone with him. I can’t face rejection anymore.
“Rosa?”
My fingers fumble with the burner knob, shaking too hard to be of use. Why am I so nervous? So awkward?
“Rosa?” His voice brushes the side of my cheek softly.
“Hmm?”
“Are you okay?”
“Fine, fine.”
Camillo’s warm hand braces my arm, and I freeze. “Is this about why you’re avoiding me?” he asks in a low voice.
The pain in his voice slices through me. I don’t know what to say. I’m being delusional about anything happening between us. I’m broken and useless, and he’s a protective angel who doesn’t lower himself to be with someone like me. “No.”
Gently, he turns me to face him, his brow arched. His mouth opens, then snaps shut before he can utter a sound.
“I’m sorry for letting it get that far,” I murmur. “For not stopping it sooner.”
Something shutters over his face, and the stony mask falls back into place. I’ve seen it too many times when he and his brothers are talking—indifference. And I hate the feeling of it being directed at me.
“What?” he growls.
“The kiss,” I whisper, dropping my eyes. “What I mean is, I get it. We can just pretend it never happened.” I’m rambling. The words just spill from my lips without so much as connecting with my brain.
Confusionknits his brows together as he searches my face.
My eyes hit the floor, and I wring my hands together. “I know I’m not the ideal…anything. And you’re…you. So, it’s okay. We can just pretend it didn’t happen and move on. No need to talk about it.”
The warmth of his palm cups my cheek, lifting my chin so I have to stare into his eyes. The corner of his lip twitches as the shutter of cold indifference melts away. “Is that what you want? To pretend it didn’t happen?”
My heart stutters at the expression on his face. “Don’t you?”
“Fuck, no.”
I blink at him. “What?”
“I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen,” he says. His words don’t make sense. Why wouldn’t he want that? Why would he even say any of this? To torment me? To mock me? But that isn’t the Camillo I’ve come to know over the last few weeks.
“I don’t understand...”
And that smile, the one that makes my knees turn to jelly, floods his face as his thumb brushes the apple of my cheek. “I can’t and won’t forget it. That’s not happening for either of us. I refuse to let it. You and that kiss are all I’ve thought about for four fucking days, Rosa.”