Page 226 of My Italian Love Affair

I roll my eyes to cover the way my heart stutters.

"You're too much, sometimes."

"And here you are," he says, stepping into my space.

His hands settle on my hips, pulling me closer until my chest brushes against his.

"Still here."

"Yeah," I murmur, my hands coming to rest on his forearms. "Still here."

His lips find mine in a slow, lingering kiss that makes me forget the bags, the unfamiliar extravagance and the faint ache in my legs from wandering round Rome’s luxury quarter all afternoon.

Eventually, Matteo pulls back, resting his forehead against mine.

"Hungry?"

"God, no," I say with a groan. "That pasta at lunch nearly killed me."

He laughs.

"I told you not to finish it."

"And leave handmade ravioli on the plate? Are youinsane?"

The memory of the late lunch makes me smile. We'd stayed there for ages - in the tiny, family-run trattoria - talking, laughing, and letting the afternoon drift past as we sipped our drinks and listened to the distant chatter of locals.

Matteo had been dressed discreetly, a baseball cap pulled low and glasses perched on his nose, doing just enough to keephim under the radar. It helped that he knew exactly where to go - the quieter spots, the places where people were less likely to recognise him, where he could justbefor a while.

And now, here we are.

It all feels surreal. My life is absolutelyridiculousright now.

I step away from Matteo and sit on the edge of the bed, running my fingers along the rim of a Valentino bag.

"So," I say, glancing up at him, "next week is going to be crazy, huh?"

He groans and rakes a hand through his hair.

"Don’t remind me."

"Final game of the season. League title on the line. The entire country watching." I grin. "No pressure."

Matteo narrows his eyes.

"You are a menace."

"I’m ajournalist. I'm supposed to ask the tough questions."

He collapses onto the bed beside me, staring up at the ceiling.

"Yeah, it’s going to be intense. The whole team's been laser-focused. The fans are… let’s say,passionate."

"Passionate is an understatement," I say, thinking of the flare-lit scenes outside the stadium after Roma’s last home win. "And if you win?"

"Whenwe win," Matteo corrects. "The city will go insane."

I smile at his confidence.

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