Abby’s POV
“And what do you want to talk about?” I asked, my voice still slightly shaky.
He took the reports and folders I was carrying right out of my hands, putting them onto the back seat.
“We’re going to talk about us,” he stated, his voice firm.
“You can’t just pretend that didn’t happen ten minutes ago.”
I scoffed, trying to hide my nervousness.
“So you counted the minutes?”
“Abby, I’m serious.” He opened the passenger door for me.
“Get in.”
I stepped inside, pulling my seatbelt on.
Glancing at the massive tower, I knew everyone—from the executives to the doorman—was watching the scandal unfold.
But I don’t care what they think.
He got in and started the car.
“I thought you had a meeting today,” I pressed.
“I cancelled it.”
“Huh? Why would you cancel that important meeting?”
“For us. For us to talk about what just happened.”
“Well, we just kissed, okay,” I said, trying hard to sound formal, like I was discussing quarterly reports.
“Married couples kiss each other.”
Matteo glanced at me, his eyes alight with challenge.
“But we’re not just an ordinary married couple, Abby. We started this as an arrangement, remember? That kiss? That was not contractual. You can’t deny the heat that was in this car.”
“I deny nothing!” I shot back, though a giddy flutter started in my stomach.
“I got carried away—I was practicing!
You’re the one who pulled my face to yours and kissed me expertly!” Then I added, “And who initiated the second attempt, claiming we needed to ‘do it right’?”
Then he countered, “You were the one whispering—”
“I was not!” I cut him off, but he was already smiling.
“You were,” he confirmed, leaning closer, enjoying my fluster.
“You were the one who whispered in my ear, ‘Please, don’t stop,’ and you were the one arching against me. You can’t blame me for almost taking things further when you sound like that.”
I gasped, completely blindsided, and felt the heat rush to my face.
He had me completely cornered.
“Excuse me? Mister,” I coughed softly, desperately trying to regain my composure.
“You are intentionally misinterpreting the situation.”
“Uh, maybe,” he conceded, that knowing look still in his eyes.
He continued driving, and the hours slipped by easily.
We drove until 2 PM, time for lunch.
We had spent the entire morning together, it felt exactly like a real date.
“I need to go to the washroom,” I said when we arrived at a secluded Italian restaurant.
I quickly checked my reflection, reapplied my lipstick, and washed my hands.
I was just about to walk back to our table when I saw them.
My breath hitched.
My entire body went cold.
Matteo was talking to another woman.
A tall, blonde, impeccably dressed woman who looked vaguely familiar.
Then I remembered her face from my previous life.
This was Claudia Laurent.
The top model he’d been dating—the woman who, in the other timeline, had desperately tried to divorce him and claim half his assets.
But in this life, Matteo had married me.
I walked toward the table, my smile forced and sharp.
The woman glanced up, her eyes immediately assessing me.
“Claudia Laurent,” I returned, making sure my tone was equally icy.
“It’s nice to see you in person.”
Claudia didn’t spare me another look.
She turned her attention back to Matteo, running a perfectly manicured hand over his arm.
“I didn’t know you were into women so much younger now, Matteo,” she said, her voice laced with condescension.
“She looks like she’s still in college.”
Is that an insult?
My blood began to boil.
I slid into my chair, then I picked up the menu, my voice light as I said, “Let’s order, I’m starving.”
Then I looked up, my eyes cold and fixed on her hand.
“And Claudia? Why are you still here? Get your hands off my husband’s arm.”
Claudia reacted instantly, pulling her hand back as if she’d been burned.
She stood up, staring at me in complete disbelief.
“Husband?”
Matteo didn’t let me answer.
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on Claudia.
“Yes,” he confirmed calmly.
“We just got married a few weeks ago.”
Claudia’s face twisted into an ugly storm of anger and realization.
“The day you—”
Matteo cut her off, his voice suddenly hard as granite.
“The day you cheated on me, Claudia. Now, if you’ll excuse yourself, please, leave our table.”
His voice softened, giving her one final, protective warning shot.
“My wife is hungry. And a hungry wife is very dangerous. You know how it is.”
Claudia didn’t say another word.
She scoffed, grabbed her expensive purse, and marched away from our table, her heels clicking angrily on the floor.
I watched her go and couldn’t help but let out a soft, victorious laugh.
“Well,” I said, looking back at Matteo, “you certainly scared her away.”
He gave me a slow, knowing smile that made my stomach flip.
“You’re getting possessive, Mrs. Romano. I don’t know if I should be worried or highly flattered.”
I leaned in across the table, meeting his eyes with a challenging, warm look.
“Let’s figure out the priorities, Mr. Romano. Now that we’ve handled the external threats, what do you want to eat?”