Chapter 13: Secret Meetings

 

Back in New York, the reality of our situation hit me like a ton of bricks. We slipped back into our professional roles, but the memory of Italy hung between us like a forbidden secret, sweet and heavy. The chemistry was a live wire we couldn't seem to stop touching, and before I knew it, we'd fallen into a rhythm of stolen moments and late-night calls. The first one came a few nights after we returned. I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, when my phone lit up with his name. My heart did that annoying little flip it always does for him.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” His voice was low, a smooth rumble that sent a familiar shiver straight down my spine. “I couldn’t sleep. I was thinking about you.”

A smile tugged at my lips. “I was thinking about you, too.”

We talked for hours. It was easy, effortless. We floated from shop talk to old stories, and always, always back to Rome. In the dark, with just his voice in my ear, it was simple to forget the rules, to forget the risk. The world shrank to just us.

“I miss you,” he admitted, his voice soft, vulnerable in a way he never let it be at the office.

The confession warmed me from the inside out. “I miss you, too.”

Those late-night calls became our secret ritual, a lifeline that kept me connected to him despite the careful distance we had to maintain all day. At work, we were a masterclass in professionalism, but the tension was a physical thing. Every glance held a hidden message, every accidental brush of hands felt like a jolt of lightning.

One afternoon, I was in his office, the door closed, the blinds drawn. We were going over a presentation, but the air was thick with everything we weren't saying. “This looks great,” he said, his eyes on the screen. “But I think we need to tweak the numbers on slide seven.”

I leaned over his shoulder to see, my heart hammering against my ribs as I caught the warm, spicy scent of his cologne. “You’re right. I’ll make the changes.”

He turned to look at me, and his gaze was so intense it stole the air from my lungs. “Amara.”

“Yes?”

He stood in one fluid motion, his hands gripping my arms, pulling me close. “I can’t do this anymore,” he said, his voice rough with a emotion that unraveled me.

“Do what?” I whispered, my pulse roaring in my ears.

“Pretend like I don’t want you,” he replied, and then his lips were on mine.The kiss was slow and deep, pouring every bit of the longing we’d been suppressing into that one, perfect connection. My hands slid up his chest, fisting in the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer, until there was no space left between us.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathless. “Enzo,” I whispered, my voice shaking. “We can’t”

“I know,” he interrupted, his voice firm, his forehead resting against mine. “But I can’t stay away from you.”

My heart swelled, but a nagging voice of panic whispered in the back of my mind. “What if someone finds out?”

His expression softened. He reached up and gently brushed a stray curl from my face. “We’ll be careful. I promise.” I wanted to believe him more than anything. The weight of the risk still pressed down on me, but as I leaned into his touch, I made my choice. “Okay.”