Page 160 of My Italian Love Affair

I shoot him a look.

“Oh,please. This place looks like a billionaire’s summer retreat,” I tell him. “Your cardefinitelybelongs here, though.”

He chuckles, pulling up to the entrance and cutting the engine.

“What can I say? I worked hard for this.”

There’s something about the way he says it - quiet, almost thoughtful - that makes me look at him a little differently.

I watch as he steps out of the car and comes around to open my door, offering me his hand.

“Come on,bella. Let me show you around.”

I take his hand, letting him pull me out of the car, and as we step towards the grand front doors, I can’t help but think how I’m already in love with this place.

Matteo pushes open the heavy wooden doors, and I verymuch try to school my expression. I thought that his home was stunning from the outside, butinside…

High ceilings stretch above us, with exposed wooden beams and floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a beautiful view out towards the city below us.

“Wow,” I breathe, turning in slow circles as I take it all in.

Matteo smirks, hands sliding into the pockets of his jeans.

“You like it?”

I shoot him a flat look.

“Matteo, this house isridiculous.”

His smile widens into a full-blown grin.

“Ridiculously nice, you mean.”

I grin as I step further inside, trailing my fingers along the sleek marble countertop of his open-plan kitchen. The entire space is seamless, with a grand staircase that winds up to the second floor.

“It’s…huge.” I turn back to him. “How do you even use all this space?”

Matteo shrugs.

“I don’t, really.”

“Do you live alone?”

He nods.

“No staff?”

A chuckle rumbles from his chest as he steps towards me.

“I have a housekeeper who comes during the week. But no, I don’t have some big team of people running my life. Not at home, anyway.”

I let that settle in as I walk towards the living area, my fingers brushing over the arm of a rich, dark leather couch. There’s a fireplace built into the wall, sleek and modern, and beside it, a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf filled with -

I pause, squinting.

“Are these actually your books?” I tease, stepping closer.

Matteo snorts.

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