Page 206 of My Italian Love Affair

And yet…

My eyes linger on the couple by the fountain, on the warmth in their smiles.

What if…?

No. I shake the thought away.

This isn’t forever.

The waiter arrives with my sandwich, and I force myself to push the what-ifs aside.

I need to stay focused. I have bigger problems to solve.

Chapter Fifty

Matteo

Ispend the entire day counting down hours.

Training should have distracted me - should have given me something else to focus on.

But all I’ve been able to think about is Daphne.

She told me she was fine. Told me not to worry.

But I’d been the one to hold her, to comfort her, the one who had seen her cry.

I barely made it through training without losing my temper. Every misplaced pass, every shot that didn’t hit the back of the net only made my frustration worse. When my teammates noticed, I shrugged it off, played it cool.

But my mind was elsewhere.

So, once we were finished, I called my agent. Told himexactlywhat I wanted done.

He assured me he'd speak to his wife. Given her position at The Tribune, as far as we’re both concerned, Mark Chapman’s career is as good as fucking over.

Good.

By the time I’m pulling up outside Daphne’s apartmentbuilding, my blood is still running hot - not just from training, but from the promise I made to her that I’ll sort this mess.

And I mean it. I will.

Iam.

I don’t hesitate before knocking.

A few seconds pass before the door swings open, and there she is.

Daphne blinks up at me, her auburn hair falling in waves around her face, her lips curving up into a small smile. She looks a little tired - like she’s been carrying too much today - but still, she’s fucking beautiful.

“Oh,” she breathes. “It’syou.”

"Buonasera, Daphne," I murmur. "Miss me?"

Her breath hitches for half a second - barely noticeable, but I see it.

Ifeelit.

She crosses her arms, arching an eyebrow, clearly trying to mask whatever reaction she just had.

---