Page 155 of My Italian Love Affair
Matteo doesn’t even flinch. Just tilts his head, grinning like he knows exactly why I’m acting like this.
I hate him.
(We’ve already established that’s a lie.)
“You looked very focused,” he muses, nodding toward my laptop screen. “Writing about my goal?”
I level him with a look.
“You mean the tap-in after arealstriker did all the work?”
His brows shoot up.
“Ouch.”
“Oh, please. You’ll survive.”
Matteo leans in slightly, voice dropping low.
“So, about that date…”
I freeze for half a second before schooling my expression into one of practiced indifference.
“What date?” I ask, keeping my tone flat.
“The one we’re going on.”
I scoff.
“We’ve never talked about going on a date.”
“We’re talking about it now.”
I open my mouth, then close it again, unwilling to let him see even a flicker of surprise - or worse,excitement.
“You’re awfully confident for someone who hasn’t even asked properly,” I point out.
Matteo chuckles, tilting his head.
“Do I need to? You’ll say yes anyway.”
I narrow my eyes.
“You don’t know that.”
He leans in just a fraction more, his breath warm against my ear.
“I do,bella.”
I straighten, brushing him off.
“Shh.”
His grin widens.
“Shh?”
“Yes,shh.” I dart my eyes around the room, paranoid. “I’m working.”
