Hate Me, Love Me (Ongoing)

Chapter 20

The drive back home was awkward. Well, for me anyway. Every time Cyrus made a hard turn, my knee would brush Mateo's. And then I would blush and hope Mateo hadn't noticed.

I had my body angled as I watched two rain droplets on my window race to the bottom.

A familiar feeling washed over me. My eyes dart to Mateo, and I catch him staring at my legs. I looked down, my short dress exposing my legs and the knife I always kept with me.

I sucked in a sharp breath when Mateo unexpectedly reached over. His fingertips brushed my thigh, and I shudder as he pulled the knife out of its holster.

He examined the blade, seemingly impressed. "Is this for me?" He questioned, a glint of amusement in his amber eyes.

I shrugged. It was given to me for my protection. Protection from who? That's a question that still has yet to be answered.

"Have you ever had to use it?"

I give my head another shake.

Mateo reaches back over to slip the tactical knife back in its holster. His fingers brush my thigh again as he pulls back, and I quickly avert my gaze to hide my blush.

I don't know why I've suddenly become such a girlish mess around Mateo. Hating him has been easy. It's the other things I'm feeling that I'm struggling with.

Mine.

He'd call me his. A part of me hated the fact that he'd view me as someone to be owned. While another part of me felt conflicted because I liked how it sounded. Perhaps it's all the romance novels I've read that have made me the hopeless romantic I am.

I know that there is nothing romantic about this. About us. We're solely doing what our families want us to do. But maybe, just maybe, Mateo's not the monster I thought he was.

****

Mateo's POV
Somehow, she's quieter than before. A few days have gone by. I've been working hard to track down my father's killer. My mom and aunt have been preparing for the wedding. And the council is still arguing about the stolen money. I haven't had time to be home, which wasn't new.

I just didn't realize how unhappy the little Russian is until now. She smiles at Carla. She smiles at Gianni. But with me, nothing. All I get is a sullen expression.

I didn't care for her wellbeing before. And I still don't. But I find myself yearning for the smiles she always gives everyone else. So, I decided to cancel my meetings for the day and stay home.

The little Russian woke one morning, yawning and trudging towards the kitchen with Bane at her feet. She froze when she saw me. The look on her face told me she hadn't expected me to be home.

I took a sip of my coffee, having to shift in my chair to adjust when my eyes raked over the tank top and shorts she was wearing. "Morning."

Her cheeks flushed, and she lowered her head. Her shyness was kind of adorable. I watched her closely as she went into the kitchen to fix herself a plate of food.

I could tell she was wondering where Carla was. I texted her to take the day off today. I also gave her a little bonus for putting up with my shit for all these years. The humble woman kept trying to refuse the money I'd given her, but I ignored her and had my private banker wire the funds to her account.

The little Russian sat down in the seat adjacent me. She took her fork and cut into the golden brown crepe drizzled with homemade strawberry syrup and whipped cream. She brought it up to her mouth and took a bite.

Her eyes rolled, and a small grin spread across my face. "You like it?"

She nodded, her bright eyes sparkling against the sun pouring in through my window.