Page 69 of The One
“Ohhh,” I groan again, taking another bite and letting my head fall back. “This is like tasting a piece of heaven.”
I savor every flaky layer, every sweet burst of flavor, grateful for the distraction from my swirling thoughts. This moment, right here, is pure happiness.
“I think I found my new favorite dessert,” I mumble after swallowing the final bite.
I glance at Mateo, and his eyes are still fixed on me, watching my every movement.
Self-conscious, I wipe my lips with my fingers and brush the top of my dress, in case I have crumbs on me.
His gaze tracks my motions, lingering a little too long on my chest, which, in his presence, is heaving far more than I’d like. When his eyes finally lift to meet mine again, the air between us practically sizzles, stronger than before.
I swallow hard and drop my gaze to the treat in his hand. “You don’t want yours?” I ask, my voice somehow coming out huskier than expected.
I’m ready to take his if he doesn’t. Any diversion from the electricity crackling between us will do.
He clears his throat and finally looks away, shifting his gaze to the pastry in his hand.
Phew.
Feeling a bittersweet reprieve, it’s my turn now to watch him, and I’m mesmerized.
Mateo takes a bite, his face lighting up.
“Sweet and flaky, just like they should be,” he hums in approval, licking a little ricotta off his lips.
Naturally, my eyes follow.
Those lips! I almost kissed them, I think.
They would taste even sweeter now.
Stop it, Mari.
There will be no kissing Mateo. I refuse to become his plaything or another pawn in my father’s power games.
But just one? One kiss wouldn’t change anything. Would it?
No. No, Mari.Use your brain. Think about what’s best for you in the bigger picture.
We finish our treats in silence, the distant hum of traffic mingling with the sounds of the park, children’s laughter, the soft chatter of people passing by, and the occasional rustling of leaves in the breeze.
Every now and then, we steal glances at each other, and each time our eyes meet, my heart skips a beat. The sweetness of the cannoli andsfogliatellelingers on my tongue, but that’s nothing to the thrill I’m feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Mateo crumples up the brown paper bag and turns to me.
“Now, what would you like for dinner?”
My eyes light up. He really meant it when he said he wanted to eat together.
“Well, as we’re eating things I’ve never tried before, I’ve never had pizza. I want to know what all the fuss is about.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You’ve never had the most basic Italian food?”
I shrug. “You said it yourself. It’s basic. Hence not good enough for the Accardis.”
He shakes his head in disbelief. “I know just the place.” He glances down at his suit and smirks. “But I should change, unless you want all of Rome staring at us instead of their pizza.”
“Where are we going?” I ask as we drive through the narrow streets of Rome, excitement bubbling up inside me. I’m out and about with Mateo. Just him and me.
