I stared at my draft in my notebook and wondered if the light I chose for the office room wouldn't hurt anyone's eyes and be white at all costs. Yellow light is never an option for me, since for some reason it makes me lose concentration on my work.
I scribbled on the paper guide details so the electrical planner could take over his job for fifty floors.
The sizzle stopped from the open kitchen and I lifted my head, seeing how Matteo strolled to the dining table with a huge smile on his face and two plates in his hands.
"Fricase de pollo." He stated, placing the meat stew in front of me. Matteo promised me this morning, that he would cook something Puerto Rican to thank me, working for him. To have backup and a better feeling, I sent Carlos my live location. I know that Matteo wouldn't do something stupid, but he's a businessman and it can be dangerous since his house isn't watched by any bodyguards. Or it's just because of my paranoia.
"Thank you." I stretched myself, shoving my plans on the empty chair next to me. The meal's delicate smell made my stomach growl and I immediately began eating.
"Cariña, why haven't you told me you were this hungry? I would've made food sooner." He laughed, untying his white apron with some stains from cooking on it.
"I didn't want to bother you, you were working by yourself."
"Anyways. I hope my food tastes good." He continued, eying me, while waiting until I would swallow the chunk meat. Everything was cooked to the perfect degree, better than ADEGA, the restaurant we visited a week ago.
"Delicious," I remarked, slurping more of the soup and keeping eye contact with him, viewing as he mirrored my movements.
"Hmh, is that a compliment coming out of Lara Sequiera's mouth?" Matteo teased, with a soft expression on his face.
𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖₊ ⊹⟡ 𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖₊ ⊹⟡ 𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖₊ ⊹⟡
After dinner, my date (??) led us around the house, showing me the various rooms of his. One of my favorites was the indoor swimming pool, library, and bedroom. The place feels all cozy and the only room we didn't go into is one near the kitchen, completely locked. He told me, that it's his private business room and it's always locked, since there is more secret data and if somebody breaks in, they think he would only have one office.
"Where do you want to go? To my bedroom?" Matteo questioned with a cocked eyebrow, resting his hand on my hip.
"You were serious about fucking me, weren't you?" I recalled his words from our last meeting in the pavilion:
"If I want to fuck you, I'll do so over and over again until you forget what your name is. Don't think I'm fooling you, Cariña."
Fooling me in terms of just wanting to sleep with me? The messages he sent me during the week, wouldn't lead to such a conclusion at all. Before going to bed, I'd read a message saying: I hope you'll sleep well, and make sure to text me anytime without worries about how late it is if you don't feel okay. Good night, Cariña. I still didn't get the meaning of this word, but the next time he calls me like that, I will examine the meaning of it. Of course, I could've looked it up on the internet, yet that would lack a sense of originality.
"I'm planning to take it slow with you, I changed my mind." I squinted at him, questioning what had gotten into him, while he led us into his warm bedroom. Everything was being held in nude tones and a fluffy duvet covered his huge bed.
"Why so?" A grin lingered on his face, cupping my chin in his hand. "I don't want to give you a feeling, that makes you think, everything we have is temporary. I'm trying to wait for the right moment." I slightly tilted my head at his response.
"Is the right moment in Italy by any chance?" Secretly, I wish we would share a room, but my brain tells me it would be more comfortable to have a room for myself. For some reason, I mentally can't find comfort when I'm lying with a person for more than one night in a bed. There was a time when my sleep paralysis was severe and Carlos slept together with me in my bed for a week. It was a living hell, since he doesn't know, how to not pull your blanket away or kick you out of the bed. I'd rather have sleep paralysis again than sleep next to Carlos for more than one day.
"When we have a nice atmosphere, Cariña." He explained, guiding us to his balcony, which permitted me a view of his large garden and a view of San José's skyline. His swimming pool was lit up by many lights and right next to it was a paved way leading to a more 'bewildered' section with a large pond and a bridge reaching over it.
"What does this word 'Cariña' even mean?"
"Well, in Spanish we say Cariño to a person we like, which means something like darling or sweetheart, but we always say it with the male ending -o. So I decided to make this more original and replace the o with an a. Long story short, it basically means darling but grammatically wrong."
Darling. Or sweetheart. A person they like.
Crickets chirped the night's silence away and added the perfect mood for being outside. One feeling on earth that makes me feel carefree, is summer nights. Warm enough to feel comfortable in my lilac lace tank top, and dark enough to set an unimaginable peace free in my heart. If we would add a soft drizzle, wetting my skin, I could drift off right now and here.
Slim hands wrapped around me from behind and a head placed on my shoulder ripped me out of my thoughts. "Do you like my yard?" Matteo's lips touched my shoulder, kissing more and more upwards. My mind flashed back to the time, we were having our first kiss. Every night before I'd drift into my world of dreams, my last thoughts were regarded to him. His smile, his check-up texts, the random flowers on my work desk, our passionate kiss which weakens my knees whenever I think about it, and the sparkle in his deep green eyes.
"I don't like it. I love it." I corrected, gripping after the fence, to steady myself. He can make me faint with one touch and let me sink to my knees within a blink.
"Do you also like the way I touch you? Don't you think I notice how weak I make you with my fingertips grazing over your soft skin? Tell me, Lara Sequeira. Did anyone ever make you feel this way?" His words elicited a fire shredding my skin down to my very bones and made me feel ashamed of the truth.
"No..." I mumbled, folding as he spun me around just to kiss my lips passionately. My hands rested on his chest, letting my tongue glide over his bottom lip. Matteo smiled into our kiss brightly, pausing, only to kiss my forehead.
"You're so gorgeous." His thumb traced over my cheek, leaving a path of love. There needs to be something off, because why is he so perfect in my eyes? I never wear pink glasses and view anyone as perfect. But how did he come so suddenly into my life, just to treat me like a goddess? Even his personality fits and I started to blame it on my attachment issues, that every guy who was by my side for more than a day (which never really happened) left me.
"It's starting to get late. Do you want to stay over and sleep in the guest room?" I nodded briefly, rubbing my sleepy eyes. "That would be nice, thank you..."
"If you want we can-" His sentence got interrupted by his phone, which rested in his pocket ringing. Not his business again...
A frown appeared on his face and his lips thinned into a small line you could only measure with a microscope. I didn't know who called him, but something about the display made him yell in lowercase.
He pressed the phone tightly against his ear, making sure I wouldn't catch up with their conversation, being spoken in quick Spanish sentences. All I could hear was, that the person on the other end had a faint Indian accent.
Matteo's eyes darkened and he gently rubbed my shoulder, excusing himself into the bedroom again. Some hair strains clutched to his sweat-drained forehead from the hotness, but by now it must be stress. A hint of concern lingered in his voice, walking nervously up and down the room and could make one believe, he would start throwing his phone onto the ground and violently stomp on it to shush the certain person.
He suddenly stopped with every movement and stared at me for a fraction of a second. Matteo started saying "No." multiple times, progressively growing louder with an extent of fear in his eyes. My heart grew with worry and as soon as I tried sauntering to him and trying my best to comfort him, he acted up in anger and ripped some things from his desk, throwing them to the bedroom's other side. Reflexively, I covered my ears with the loud slam and watched the papers and desk supplies sink to the ground on his white carpet.
"Estúpido hijo de puta, ¿por qué no me lo dijiste antes?" ("You stupid son of a bitch, why didn't you tell me that earlier?") Slipped out of his mouth in a frustrated shout. His hand clenched around his phone with the other one slapping against his forehead multiple times. I quickly stepped forward, gripping after his wrist to stop him from hurting himself further. Luckily he stopped for a second with his movement, blinking at me with an indescribable emotion. If I had to guess, what it could be, I'd say: "You shouldn't be here." But somehow also a "Stay."
I built up the courage to ask: "What is wrong with you, Matteo?"
The other man fell in silence for a second, until I heard him say: "Is this Lara?" The time stopped, as thousands of questions flooded my brain along with worry. Who is this? How does he know my name? How is he involved?
"Yes, I am," I answered sounding as much confident as myself allows. "Go to the guest room, Lara," Matteo ordered, staring into something far away, that only he would be able to see.
I ruminated about the best thing to do. On the one hand, it's smart to obey and get ready to sleep, but on the other, I want to stay on the floor and listen to their conversation. Matteo isn't a dumb man, so going to the bedroom and investigating later would be the smarter option. I'd rather not get kicked or hit right now.
"Fine with me." I ended our conversation and rushed to the end of the floor, swinging the door open and pushing the curtains aside. Matteo's voice faded and it's just me and a lifeless room. Whoever was the interior decorator of it needs to be fired. Two vases stood on the cupboard, a plant in one corner, and white walls. It seems like he doesn't even care about rooms not being used often enough. Nonetheless, I was too tired to complain about rich people and stripped my clothes down, lay in my lace underwear on the mattress, and snuggled myself up in the blanket, listening to the clock's ticking.
For what reason did he get so aggressive? Is it normal for him? A man punching a wall or throwing things across the room will do the same thing to a woman. Am I overthinking?
I pretended to be asleep as soon as Matteo's footsteps came closer to the guest room. Maybe he's still on a call and if I'm asleep I'll find out more.
I squinted, trying to recognize what he was going to do. My heart beat rapidly as the blond sat on the bed, making sure he wouldn't sit on my legs or push the blanket off. A laptop was clutched under his arm and made me question his aims.
He chuckled quietly, stroking his fingers over my cheeks and mouth with a cheeky smile. "How can someone fall asleep this quickly, hm?" Oh if he only knew, that I've been having a lot of trouble with sleeping since I was young, he would stop believing me so easily. I noticed how his voice trembled slightly, still gifted with rage and concern.
The mattress felt lighter again and quiet footsteps sounded, as Matteo sat on the armchair in front of the bed. He opened the laptop and began typing for a few minutes. Will he work now? Why won't he go to his own room?
Why does Matteo Díaz who has two offices in this house, do his work in the guest room?