Moretti refused to talk to me in the morning. He was gone soon after breakfast to a meeting at the club to discuss further plans. Or, at least that's what the maid who had overheard him speak told me. Moretti didn't dare tell me what's going on. The man could hardly look at me.

I didn't exactly blame him. I'd left him last night, just as he was vulnerable with me. A man in his position of power can't afford to be vulnerable and exposed, but he did it for me.

It's a shame I'm too screwed up to handle it. I was so overwhelmed last night I completely shut down and left as soon as I could. Afterwards, I had climbed in the shower and made an attempt to scrub all the blood out of my hair and off my skin. But my mind was plagued with thoughts of Moretti and how it felt when he wrapped himself around me.

Don't forget about Natalia. That damned voice said.

I closed off again.

"So Mary, what's for lunch?" I asked excitedly as I jumped up onto the cool marble counter of the empty kitchen. It was just me here alone in the house on days like this. Well, me and a few of Moretti's help.

Mary wiped her hands on a small white rag. "I'll fix you up something," she winked.

I released a breath, "Thank God, I feel like i'm starving." I kicked my feet mindlessly as they dangled from the counter.

Mary turned around, "Considering all the food you had for breakfast this morning, I didn't think you'd be hungry again for the next week," She laughed and I giggled along with her.

Mary was a younger maid at Moretti's. Somewhere in her late 20s, she had light hair, and big brown doe eyes. I had never had female friends before. So this was new to me.

Mary eventually spoke up again. "So why is it that whenever you got up this morning, Mr. Moretti couldn't get out of this house fast enough?" She looked over at me with an amused yet suspicious glance.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I lied, trying to keep my voice cool.

"Don't lie to me now, I'll spit in your food," she said playfully as she pointed at me with the wooden spoon in her hand.

I laughed lightly. I figured she wasn't going to let this slide.

I sighed. "I messed up."

She put the spoon down completely and turned her attention solely on me. "Care to elaborate?"

"Well, I may or may not have left unannounced for an extended period of time last night, only to come back covered in blood," I paused and looked up at her but she only gave me a nod and look that told me to 'keep going.'

"And...Moretti may or may not have gotten angry at me." I kept the part about what happened in his room to myself. The part where he pinned me and held me against the door as he worried over me. The part where I left him standing there.

Mary could tell I was leaving something out but she didn't ask about it. "Hm, you two butt heads a lot don't you?" She turned back to the stove, nonchalantly.

"You could say that."

Mary looked like she wanted to say something else but she hesitated.

"What?" I asked her, sliding off of the counter and onto the ground. My sock-covered feet hitting the floor with a soft thud.

She turned back towards me. "It's just, Ive worked for Mr. Moretti for years now. And, I don't think there's anybody that can drive him as crazy as you can," she paused, "and I think there's more to you two than just a work partnership."

Was she right? Hell if I knew. I mean, Moretti and I did kiss but, what about Natalia? The kiss couldn't have meant anything. But then that brought me back to last night when he revealed he was worried for me. I didn't know how to feel.

The tension in the kitchen was thick. I decided to cut it with a chuckle. "Uhuh, how do you know all this shit anyways?" I lightly hit her arm in fun.

"It gets boring just cleaning and cooking, I need some kind of entertainment. And you two are like a damn soap opera," She laughed.

She grabbed a plate from the pantry and fixed my plate. She slid over the plate of pasta and I smiled, "Thanks."

___

Even if what Mary said had any sort of truth to it, it didn't matter. Moretti won't talk to me now.

It's better like this.