to go on, despite everything that's happened. It's been a couple of weeks since the incident in my room, and if I told you that I didn't think about it a lot, I would be filthy liar.

I think about it, nearly all the time. At work, I catch myself running a finger across my lips, the shadow of his thumb still vivid in my memory. I think about his gaze as it focused on my mouth, dark and full of hidden promises, and I think of the way his nose touched mine, soft and gentle, our breaths caught between us.

Mostly, my mind is preoccupied with the things he said, those few, heavy words. The way he tried to put me at ease, to reassure me, still confuses me. Sunday night's encounter with Nero was so different from the one on Friday—so different that I'm starting to think that one must be a figment of my imagination.

How is it possible that a single man can be so mercurial, so contradictory? One moment he threatens me into silence, and the next he consoles me, makes me feel better, assures me that my guilt is unfounded and unnecessary.

The only answer I can come up with is that Nero is a dangerously complicated man. He lives in a world where drugs and trafficking and murder and other horrible things are normal; his safety and well-being depends on the utmost secrecy.

I still haven't figured out exactly what he does for a living, but I'm sure it's something to do with organized crime, like a gang, or something just as dangerous. He had to make sure that, as his new neighbour, I would be silent and not tell anyone about all his illegal... stuff. Threatening me sure did the trick.

But the kindness, the tenderness that he showed me? I think it had something to do with the cupcakes. Maybe he realized that I'm not a threat, that I'm actually a kind, good, law-abiding citizen who doesn't deserve to be so afraid of my own neighbour. Maybe deep down, he's actually a nice guy. Something tells me that it's a little more complicated than that, though.

Since that night, I've barely seen Nero. He's been so busy, lately; I can tell because of the strange hours he's been coming and going, and by the amount of people, all men, all rough and big and scary, who visit him next door.

I try not to think about the fact that it's probably all about the man who was found dead—these days the news is filled with talk of organized crime and police investigations. I make sure to keep my headphones on or blast my music whenever he has people over, for my own sanity. I don't need to be witness to any more violent crimes.

Monday after work, two weeks from That Sunday, Daniel visits me to talk about the project he mentioned at dinner a couple weeks ago. I let him in, hoping to god that Nero can keep it down, though I haven't actually heard anything from next door since that first time.

I give my brother the grand tour, and he seems to be impressed. He's twenty-nine, five years older than me, and he's been practicing law for a while now. His place is huge and grand and expensive, and I know he's glad that, despite my salary as a just-out-of-college graphic designer, I can still live comfortably.

I let him see the little room I keep as a studio, full of my artwork and hoards of carefully collected supplies. We talk about the project, and about how much his colleagues are paying me for it. "It's not a ton," Daniel apologizes, "because they're donating it for a charity fundraiser, but it'll be more than enough to cover your supplies and make you a decent profit." He runs a hand roughly through my hair, and I whack him away, the same way I've done since I could walk.

I don't tell him that paying me twenty-five hundred is more than I ever would have asked for, and would be the most I've ever received for one of my pieces.

I make Daniel coffee, and we talk about work and our parents and our plans for the near future. I tease him about his new girlfriend, who he has yet to bring to Sunday night dinners, and he tries to wheedle information about my own love life, which I assure him is non-existent.

He arches a fair eyebrow, completely disbelieving. "Come on, Rosy. You're telling me that you, the most perfect girl I know, aren't seeing anybody?" I blush and shove him away again, his sweetness disarming me. I tell him that I've been busy with my job and my artwork and getting adjusted to the new neighbourhood, and he lets it go, if only for a little while.

"Hey, so that charity thing is in a month, right? I'm officially inviting you, so you better come." I tell him I'll think about it, but I already know it'll be fun, and great publicity for my art.

"When do I have to RSVP by?" I tease, my mind already made up.

"Just come, Ros. And bring someone—I already bought you two tickets." His expression is full of challenge, daring me to refuse. "A month is plenty of time to find a date, right?"

I give him my dirtiest look, saying I'll think about it.

When I bring out the platter of cupcakes I baked just for him, his face erupts into a huge grin, and he's so happy it makes me laugh. "Ros, you are the best." He takes a huge bite as soon as it's in his hands, the fluffy white frosting covering his nose. We laugh so hard, and a literal cupcake war ensues, both of our faces covered in sweet, velvety cream cheese icing by the end.

When we finish cleaning up, he tells me he has to go, and I tease him more about his girlfriend, who I'm sure he's meeting for dinner though he's purposefully, annoyingly vague. "You should bring her home on Sunday," I say, clearly a trap. "I wanna meet her!"

He winks, his dirty blonde hair, which he gets from our mom, glinting in the light. "I actually like her, so there's no way I'm letting you scare her away so quick." I protest as I see him out, and he gives me a massive hug before he leaves, promising to come see me again soon.

I wave at him as he walks down the hall, and he makes funny faces at me as he slowly disappears. Giggling, I hear the door beside me open, and Nero exits his room. My laughter dies immediately.

He wears a well-fitting, perfectly-cut dark blue suit, and I know it must be expensive. The colour brings out the brightness in his eyes, his skin as golden and perfect as ever. I find myself staring and I tear my gaze away, face going warm.

He raises a dark eyebrow, looking down the hall to where Daniel left. He nods his head in that direction, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "That's like the first time you've had someone over since you moved in." He notices that while I open my mouth to protest, nothing comes out, because he's right. He chuckles, and my embarrassment seems to amuse him.

Casually, he walks over to me, and I try to remain calm, and the familiar tugging sensation that comes with his proximity builds in my stomach. We're facing each other now, a small gleam in his eyes. "How long have you been dating?"

I let out a small, strangled sound, laughter bubbling from my mouth, and Nero looks confused, his perfect forehead wrinkling. I point down the hall, silently confirming that he was talking about Daniel. Whom he clearly mistook for my boyfriend.

The thought strikes me as so hilarious that whatever uncomfortable knots were building in my chest instantly melt, and I look at Nero, smiling, still heaving with silent laughter. "You mean me and Daniel? My brother?"

Immediately, he realizes his mistake, a dry smile growing on his face too as he steps closer, and a low, rough laugh escapes his mouth. "Sorry, dolcezza. My bad."

My laughter vanishes, replaced with a watchful anticipation as his eyes fix themselves on my face, gifting me that same steady, focused look that leaves my knees weak every time.

I watch, fixated, as he brings his hand up to my cheek, letting out a small breath as his finger brushes against the side of my mouth, coming away with a smear of creamy white icing. He raises an eyebrow, and I let out a small laugh, my words deserting me. "Oh, um, that's..." A small, nervous giggle escapes my lips. "Just frosting."

My eyes widen when he looks at his finger, softly bringing the dab of snowy deliciousness to his mouth, his gaze fixed, glittering with laughter, on mine. He purses his soft lips a little afterwards, and he gifts me a knowing, sparkling grin. "Do you have any more cupcakes? The ones you gave me the other day might be the best I've ever tried in my life."

He looks at me expectantly, but my brain is still filled with a warm haze. I feel my skin go hot as I nod, tilting my head towards my apartment. "I'll, um, go get you some." My voice is weak and faint and slightly hoarse as I hurry to escape his teasing eyes, reentering my apartment and making my way back into the kitchen, my head spinning.

I have no idea how he does that to me, and I chastise myself for how easily flustered I become around him. He must think I'm crazy.

I put four of my remaining cupcakes on a plate, taking a deep, settling breath before I bring them to him. I manage to spread a friendly, steady smile across my face. "I usually bake different ones every week, and um, I can't eat them all myself, obviously." Mentally, I kick myself for sounding so lame. I offer him a small shrug. "Let me know, you know, if you ever want some."

He gives me a wide, melting, impossibly sexy smirk, making my heart flutter in somersaults. "Thank you, Rosalina." He winks, sending yet even more sparks down my spine. "I'll probably take you up on that."

"Please do." I flash my most charming smile, and he returns it with one of his own, the whole world going brighter, just for a second.

He checks his watch and lets out a small curse. "I'm sorry, gioia, I have to go." He quickly pushes his door open, slipping the plate inside before locking his apartment, and I watch him, his movements lithe and magical. Everything he does always seems so unfathomably perfect. My arms crossed against my chest, I give him a small, final smile as he leaves, watching as he strides away.

Shit, I think, my entire body feeling light and flighty, you've got to get a grip, Ros. I let out a heavy sigh, trying to convince myself that it's Nero's danger and malevolence that always gets me on edge, and nothing at all to do with with his stunning, ethereal looks and the heavy pull of attraction I always feel when he's around.

***

A/N:

Mhm. Whatever you say, sweetie.

How is everyone doing rn?

XOXO Ami

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