Page 42 of My Italian Love Affair

“What about you, Sinclair? Got a question for him?”

Every head turns toward me.

What aprick.

He specifically told me to keep quiet, to not say a word - sono,Mark, I don’t have a fucking question prepared.

My heart pounds, but I keep my expression neutral.

Matteo’s gaze meets mine again - all expectant and amused - and I realise in that moment, that yes, actually, Idohave a question.

“We’ve touched on the pressure, but do you ever get tired of the attention?” I ask. “The cameras, the constant scrutiny - does it ever get too much, or do you find that you enjoy it?”

There’s a brief flicker of something unreadable in his expression, then,slowly, his smirk returns.

“Ah,” he says, voice warm with amusement. “Una domanda interessante.”

An interesting question.

He leans in just slightly, lowering his voice while he keeps his eyes trained onto mine.

For a moment, I feel like we’re the only two people in the room.

“Maybe I enjoy it, maybe I don’t.” A pause, and then a small, knowing smile. “What doyouthink?”

I hold his gaze, refusing to back down.

But I hate that I don’t actually know the answer.

I don’t break eye contact, even as my pulse pounds in my throat. Matteo is watching me with a smug, knowing expression - as though he enjoys seeing me fumble for something to say.

Likehellam I going to give this man the satisfaction of not having an answer.

“I think,” I say slowly, “that you like to keep people guessing.”

“Do I?” Matteo says, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. He leans back slightly, his smirk deepening. “Well,giornalista,if I gave you all the answers, then everyone else would be out of a job.”

The journalists around us chuckle, clearly entertained by our exchange.

Mark, however, does not look impressed.

Oh well. It’s his own fault for being a dick and putting me on the spot. This entire interaction would’ve never happened if he’d just kept his big mouth shut.

“That’s enough of the philosophical musings,” my mentor says, his voice low and his tone notably clipped. “We’ll wrap it up there.”

He clears his throat before speaking at normal volume once again.

“Rossi, congratulations again on the win.”

Matteo doesn’t immediately look away from me.

Instead, his gaze lingers for just a second longer - almost like he’s waiting for something.

Finally, he steps back, rolling his shoulders like he’s shaking off the conversation.

“Grazie,” he says, nodding at the group before turning on his heel and strolling away, disappearing through the double doors leading back to the changing room.

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence.

---