Page 184 of My Italian Love Affair

I groan and flop back against the cushions.

Matteo Rossi, as infuriating as he is charming.

I should say no. Ineedto say no.

Not a chance.

You’ve already had one date out of me, and I don’t deal well with athletes. Too much ego.

As expected, he fights me on it.

It’s just dinner, Daphne.

Come on. Live in the moment, remember?

I chew my bottom lip, his words from earlier echoing in my head:

He who hesitates is lost.

Fine. One dinner.

But if you talk about your goal-scoring stats even once, then I’m leaving.

I hate the fact that I’m smiling as I presssend,almost as much as I hate the fact that my stomach clenches tightly as I await his response.

Thankfully - as with all of his messages - I do not have to wait long.

Deal. I’ll pick you up at seven.

I finally set my phone down, my heart thudding uncomfortably in my chest.

"What the hell am I doing?" I whisper to the empty room.

There’s no answer, of course.

Only the faint buzz of anticipation lingers in the air, like static electricity before a storm.

Chapter Forty-Six

Daphne

Iwake up to the sound of my phone vibrating on the nightstand.

Groggy, I reach for it, squinting at the screen.

Richard: Call me ASAP. Brilliant stuff, Sinclair. You're on fire.

Richard: Have you seen the clip? The public's eating it up.

Richard: Seriously. Call me.

I blink and open my notifications.

A link to a video is at the top, sent by Priya with an accompanying message.

You're famous, bitch.

I sit up and click it.

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