Chapter 20
Matteo’s POV
The city was quiet, but not really. Cars still drove by, people still walked around, but it felt quieter than during the day. The streetlights flickered, casting weird shadows on the pavement. I liked the night. It made everything feel slower, like the world was holding its breath.
1 liked that.
I liked the way the darkness wrapped around me, making me invisible. It gave me time to think. To watch. To wait.
And tonight, I was waiting for her.
The roses in my hand were soft, but the thorns were sharp. Seven of them, deep red like blood. They smelled sweet, like something delicate, but they had their own way of cutting you if you weren’t careful. Kind of like Aria.
Beautiful, but not safe to touch.
I smirked to myself, stepping up to her door.
She didn’t like us. She acted like she didn’t want anything to do with us, but I knew better. I saw the way she looked at us when she thought we weren’t watching. Like she hated how much she wanted to look.
But I was always watching.
I knocked. Three times. Not too hard, not too soft. Just enough to make her come to the door. Then I stepped back, disappearing into the shadows. I was good at that. Watching, waiting, letting people think they were alone when they
weren’t.
The door opened after a few seconds.
And there she was.
Aria.
She had just woken up—I could tell. Her hair was messy, falling over her shoulders in waves, a little tangled like she had been tossing and turning in her sleep. It was dark, almost black, and it looked so soft. I wondered what it would feel like between my fingers.
And her nightwear… damn.
She was wearing this pale blue nightgown, thin and loose, but not loose enough. The fabric clung to her, showing off her curves. It stopped mid–thigh, revealing smooth, bare legs. My jaw clenched. My pants felt tight. Too tight.
She had no idea I was standing right there, watching her.
Her fingers brushed over her collarbone as she looked around. Her nails were painted a soft color. Pink? White? I didn’t know. I wasn’t looking at her nails.
I was looking at her lips.
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Chapter 20
They were slightly parted, like she had forgotten to close her mouth. Like she was about to say something but didn’t know what. She licked them, just a small flick of her tongue, and my fingers twitched at my sides.
She looked at the roses on the ground.
She frowned. Her lips pressed together. She hesitated. Then, slowly, she reached down and touched one of the petals.
Something inside me snapped.
I had never been jealous of a flower before. But right now, I wanted to be that rose.
She picked them up, holding them close to her chest. I could see the way her fingers trembled just a little, like she didn’t want to react but couldn’t help it.
Good.
She felt us.
She felt me.
Even if she didn’t want to.
I should leave. I knew that. But I didn’t move. I stood there, watching her, taking in every little thing. The way her breathing was slightly uneven. The way her hair fell into her face, and she tucked it behind her ear, only for it to fall again. The way she glanced around, her brows furrowing, like she knew someone was out there.
Could she feel it? The way I was watching her?
I smirked.
Then, just for fun, I exhaled. Soft. Quiet. Barely anything.
Her head snapped up.
Her eyes widened.
She felt it.
She stepped back, just a little, gripping the roses like they were some kind of shield. Her breath hitched, her fingers tightening around the stems. I saw the moment her body tensed, the way she straightened her shoulders like she was preparing for something.
She didn’t know what.
I wanted to see her reaction. I wanted to see if she would call out. If she would whisper my name into the dark.
But she didn’t.
She just stood there, holding her breath, listening.
She was waiting.
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For me.
A slow smile tugged at my lips.
She knew.
She didn’t see me. But she knew I was there.
That was enough–for now.
I stepped back, blending into the darkness, disappearing before she could catch a glimpse of me. She stood there for a few more seconds, staring out into the night, gripping the roses like they were some kind clue to a mystery she couldn’t solve.
of
She was right.
I was a mystery.
And she was about to become obsessed with solving me.
Because soon, she wouldn’t just feel me watching.
She would feel my hands on her.
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And there wouldn’t be any shadows left to hide in.
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