"Surprise indeed," Giovanni murmured, his voice barely audible over the thrum of the music still playing through his headphones.
His grip on her chin loosened, but the pulse in his chest quickened. Her gaze stayed locked with his, and as she stepped closer, the tips of her fingers brushed lightly against his bare skin.
He could feel the heat of her, the proximity, like an unspoken invitation he wasn't sure how to answer.
She looked at him, the corners of her lips curving upward, a quiet challenge in her eyes.
At that moment, he couldn't tell if he was still the one in control or if she was the one drawing him in.
Her eyes caught the pink flush creeping up the edge of his ears, and her smile deepened. A very bad thought crossed her mind and she shoved it down as quickly as it surfaced.
Not yet, Salomé.
She turned and slipped off her coat, movements fluid and unhurried, like she hadn't just stirred something in both of them.
Her attention drifted to the ingredients half-prepped on the counter. "What are you making?" she asked casually.
Giovanni blinked once. Then again. Regaining his footing.
"Mac and cheese," he answered, turning back to the stove.
She was out of sight, but he could still feel her. Still see her—in his mind—the flush in her cheeks, the softness of her skin, her brown eyes that held his gaze for too long, those lips he tried very hard not to fixate on.
There was something different about her. Something sharpened. Like she'd stepped into herself in a way he hadn't seen before.
And he liked it.
Her boldness wasn't just striking—it was another kind of beautiful.
Her eyes lingered longer than they should've. She studied his back, the curve of his spine, his trimmed waist—probably thinner than hers. The way his muscles flexed with each movement. The low light warmed his skin, casting gold across his shoulders.
It was as if the roles had reversed. This time, she'd caught him off guard, just like he'd done to her on the cruise ship.
Salomé folded her arms and leaned back in the chair. Let herself feel it. Let the warmth gather low in her belly, slow and steady.
She remembered the way he'd looked at her minutes ago, the way his hand had cradled her chin like she was something delicate but dangerous.
And that look in his eyes—half-hunger, half-hesitation.
It made her wonder if he knew how close she'd come to closing the distance between them completely. If she hadn't stepped back, what would've happened?
Her fingers toyed with the edge of her sleeve as the silence stretched. But it wasn't awkward. It was charged, like a held breath neither of them was quite ready to release.
By the time the food was plated, Giovanni had thrown on a grey T-shirt, not like it made any difference now. He moved with quiet efficiency, setting two plates down at the kitchen table.
Salomé thanked him softly and dug in.
It was comfort food done right, rich and creamy. She ate slowly, stealing glances at him every few seconds.
"Your apartment's fixed," Giovanni said after a while.
Salomé stilled.
The faint smile she'd been wearing—gentle, unconscious—disappeared. Her heart, which had been beating soft and steady since she returned, skipped a beat. Then another.
Her apartment. Right.
"Oh..." she said, her voice catching like it tripped on something.
Then she lowered her head and buried her focus into the plate. Like she could disappear into the food or hide behind it.
Something shifted in the air, subtle but unmistakable. He felt it. But didn't say anything and continued eating.
Salomé chewed faster, barely tasting a thing. As soon as her plate was cleared, she stood, carried it to the sink, and washed it quickly.
Then she walked to the front door and grabbed the handle of her long-forgotten suitcase, wheeling it toward the hallway.
She didn't rush. But she didn't go slowly either.
She tried not to be obvious.
But he noticed.
Her room was dark when she entered, the door shut behind her and she leaned against it for a moment.
She sat on the edge of the bed, bent forward, dragging both hands through her hair before pressing them to her face.
What the hell was wrong with her?
It was just a sentence. Her apartment was fixed. That was good news, right?
It was just across from his. No big deal.
So what was the problem?
She knew why.
Her throat felt tight and her hands dropped to her lap.
She was used to him now.
Used to his quiet presence. His steadiness. The sound of him shuffling through notes late at night. The way his shampoo scent lingered in the bathroom. The way he moved in the kitchen. The comfort of being able to just exist near him, no explanation needed.
He felt like... home.
No, she wasn't going back. If it meant causing another fire, then so be it.
He'd slowly become part of her world. And the thought of not being around him didn't feel right.
It was well past midnight when Salomé opened her door.
The apartment was hushed, the kind of stillness that made every step echo just a little too loud.
Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he was asleep and this would come off as desperate.
But her feet still found their way to his door for a moment, staring at the wood, listening for any sign that he was still awake.
No light spilled out from under the door. No movement.
Her knuckles hovered, hesitant, before she finally knocked. Softly. Once.
There was a rustle on the other side. Then footsteps. A quiet click as the door cracked open and Giovanni blinked into the hallway, sleep mussing his hair.
"Everything okay?" he asked, voice thick and gruff.
Salomé didn't answer right away. Her fingers curled into the hem of her shirt as she stared down at the floor.
"I don't want to leave," she finally looked at him, her voice barely above a whisper.
Giovanni's brows dipped slightly, but he said nothing.
"I know it was supposed to be temporary, but…" she glanced down, then back at him, steadying herself. "I like being here."
'With you.' she finished the sentence in her mind.
Silence passed like a breath.
Giovanni stepped back, gently pulling the door open wider.
"Come in," he said softly.
Her eyes flicked to his. Then she stepped inside, and he closed the door behind them.