Page 118 of Italy Can Bite Me

And definitely not on him.

CHAPTER TWENTY

MATTEO

Romeisacitybuilt on ruins and lost dreams. How fucking fitting.

The morning sun burns against my skin as I stand at the edge of the Trevi Fountain, listening to the endless crash of water that sounds too much like my own heartbeat. The marble gods and goddesses watch over the scene, probably wondering why the hell humans keep throwing perfectly good money into their bathtub.

Oceanus, the Titan God of the Earth, looms over his domain, his ancient, icy gaze piercing through me. I can feel his judgment cutting into my cowardice. My weakness.

I sold my soul this morning, signed it away to Italy Express with black ink that felt like blood. The contract is a death sentence in my back pocket. Less than twenty-four hours. That’s all I have left before I become everything I swore I’d never be again—a corporate puppet leading soulless tours on a schedule driven by profit and greed.

My parents would disown me.

None of it matters. Not when Katie’s thirty feet away, lettinghimwrap an arm around her waist for another worthless selfie.

Merda. My hands clench and unclench by my sides. Jared’s playing the doting fiancé, positioning her just right, ensuring the light catches that massive diamond he surprised her with this morning.

The ring probably cost more than my entire bankrupt company is worth.

She glances over her shoulder, those green eyes finding mine like heat-seeking missiles. No smile. No pretense—just a silent promise that she was far from done proving me wrong.

After our confrontation in the hotel bathroom, she made it clear—she’s not giving up without a fight. The vision of her, all fire and fury, lingers like a tattoo I never asked for.By the end of the day, you are going to tell me what's wrong, kiss me, and admit that you love me.”

Her defiance echoes in my head, but it collides with another image, one I’d rather forget—last night’s emergency. Stan lay motionless in his hospital bed, machines keeping him alive, while Rose sat vigil, her thin fingers locked around his.

Not speaking. Not crying. Just… enduring. Loving with quiet devastation.

It’s a love that I’m familiar with, the kind that destroys you, piece by piece until you’re hollowed out—nothing but memories and sorrow. It’s a pain I’ve lived with most of my life, one that hides in the shadows, waiting to strike when you least expect it.

Like right now. The memory of my parents’ funeral floods in—two closed caskets, my ten-year-old hands clutching wilting roses. The priest’s words reverberating off marble walls: “They died as they lived. Together.”

Together. As if it was romantic instead of fucking tragic.

My tour group mills around the fountain, cameras clicking, voices chattering. I should be divulging the fountain’s secrets. How it took thirty years to build. How it marks the end point of an ancient Roman aqueduct. How throwing a single coin means you’ll return to Rome, two coins means you’ll find love, and three means marriage(No goddamn way I’m sharing that last one).

Instead, I’m watching Katie fake smile for Jared’s selfie while my lungs forget how to function.

I spent the whole night convincing myself to let Katie go. To push her away before she could burrow into my heart any deeper. Before I could hurt her with my failures—my bankrupt company, my mountain of debt, my inability to be the man she deserves.

Then this morning happened.

Jared.

That idiota kneeling in the middle of the hotel breakfast room like some kind of fucking cartoon prince, holding that ring box as if it was an apology. And Katie standing there, frozen, her hands clenching the hem of her dress.

And her face—Dio mio, her face.

Lost. Trapped. Her eyes darting around the room searching for an escape route. The panic in her eyes when they found mine… it gutted me.

I thought I’d feel relief.Isn’t this what I wanted?For her to move on? To be with a man who could give her the stability I can’t?

But instead, it felt as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to my chest, shattering every last piece of my heart. I stood there, clapping, pretending it didn’t kill me to see her ex proposing to her. Pretending I didn’t want to grab her, pull her into my arms, and beg her to choose me.

Forever isn’t for failures. And that’s what I am.

Better to end it now—save her from settling for this fucking mess. God knows she’ll waste her love on me and I’ll only disappoint her.

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