Page 247 of My Italian Love Affair

Beside me, my favourite striker doesn’t so much as stir. His arm remains heavy across my waist, his face buried in the pillow, his hair mussed and his breathing deep and even.

Careful not to wake him, I reach for my own phone on the nightstand.

The screen is flooded with notifications, including several messages from Richard.

Strategic move, Sinclair. Now that’s what I call saving the grand finale for the end of the season.

The board's loving it. Rossi + Roma win + scandal-free romance = engagement gold.

I expect The Tribune to get the exclusive. Get me a draft by noon.

I exhale slowly.

I'd been bracing for Richard to chew me out for the public display with Matteo. Fraternising with a player doesn't exactly scream journalistic integrity - but instead of reprimanding me, he'sthrilled.

Because, of course, he only really cares about clicks.

I open my social media, and sure enough, my notifications are a nightmare.

Matteo Rossi scores a hat-trick to win Roma the league… and celebrates with a kiss.

The attached video shows Matteo striding towards me, lifting me into his arms and kissing me like we were the only two people in the world.

The slow-motion edit someone’s applied doesn't help.

I scroll through the comments, heart pounding.

@footballfanatic84:Rossi wins the league AND gets the girl. What a legend.

@seriebabe:Okay, but who is she? I need a full biography immediately.

@matteoxdaphne4ever:YES! We’ve been waiting for this moment - we are living for this romance.

I snort softly.

An entire account has already been created in our name.Jesus.

The media outlets have picked it up, too.

Roma wins the league – and Rossi wins hearts with surprise sideline kiss.

Roma’s star striker Matteo Rossi leads the team to victory – and introduces his mystery girlfriend.

Rossi's hat-trick secures the title. But who is the British journalist who stole his heart?

Mark's promised exposé clearly never materialised. His so-calledfriendat an alternative publication must have bailed.

What a shame.

I smile to myself as my phone buzzes again. This time, it’s Priya, and her messages come through thick and fast.

BABE. I just saw the video.

I'm dead. You’re famous.

When are you signing autographs?!

I laugh and message her back.

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