Page 225 of My Italian Love Affair

I just go with it.

*

By the time Matteo and I return, my feet are sore, my stomach is full, and his huge bedroom is overflowing with shopping bags.

I stand in the doorway, staring at the sheer volume of them.

Sleek white Chanel carriers, glossy Prada paper bags with black rope handles, delicate cream-colored envelopes from Gucci, Valentino and Fendi. The soft crinkle of tissue paper peeks out from the tops of most, and the air is faintly scented with the leather of the handbag Matteo insisted I needed for my apparent work essentials.

Essentials. As if I’ve ever considered a five-figure handbag essential before.

"It looks like Rome exploded in here," I breathe, taking it all in.

Matteo sets down the last of the bags beside the wardrobe and stretches his arms above his head.

"Impressive, isn't it?"

"It's excessive."

"It'sfun," he counters. "And you look too good in everything we bought to have left any of it behind."

I shake my head, still overwhelmed. I've never had more than a few designer pieces - an investment blazer here, a timeless pair of heels there.

But now, in one afternoon, I have a collection most women dream of.

I pull my phone from my pocket and snap a picture of the sea of bags before I type out a quick message to Priya.

Look at this insanity. He actually bought all of this. What is my life right now???

Her reply comes through immediately.

OMG. You’re living every girl's dream.

Also… if you don’t send me pictures of what’s inside those bags ASAP, we’re no longer best friends.

I snort and tuck my phone away.

Matteo is watching me from the other side of the room, his hands casually placed into the pockets of his jeans. His dark hair is brushed back from his forehead, and the sun has left a faint bronze glow on his skin.

"You're freaking out," he says.

"I'm not freaking out," I protest, though the tension in my shoulders probably gives me away. "I'm just… processing."

"Processingwhat?" He steps closer. "It's juststuff, mi amore. Nothing that should stress you out."

"Yeah, but it's notjust stuff,and you know it. It’sdesignerstuff," I gesture to the pile. "You spent more today than I probably make in three months."

"Exactly." He shrugs. "What's the point of working hard if I can’t spoil you a little?"

I open my mouth to respond, but the sincerity in his gaze stops me short.

He isn't flaunting his wealth to impress me. It seems like he genuinely enjoys being generous and sharing what he’s worked for with the people he cares about.

"I've never been spoiled before," I admit softly.

Matteo’s lips quirk into a smile.

"Well, get used to it,bella. I plan on making a habit of it."

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