Sunday turned out to be miserable and drenched in rain.
Heavy, dark clouds had blanketed the sky since early morning, bringing an almost non-stop downpour.
I was working a full shift at the coffee shop today.
During my lunch break, the owner stopped by for just an hour to cover the counter so I could grab a bite.
Seeing that the rain had finally let up, I figured I had enough time to make a quick run to the market.
I knew eating in the park like I usually did was out of the question, but I decided to go anyway.
Except halfway to the market, the sky opened up again with a vengeance.
Murphy’s Law in full effect: there was zero cover nearby, so I barely managed to sprint over to the small awning of a closed optician’s shop.
The normally bustling street was completely deserted.
Only an occasional car splashed down the road, twice nearly soaking me from a massive puddle.
I cursed under my breath.
No umbrella.
The hood of my sweater wasn’t going to save me from this deluge.
What the hell was I supposed to do now?
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a bulky SUV pulling up to the curb near the adjacent building.
Two men stepped out.
My initial glance across the street was completely indifferent, but then I froze dead in my tracks.
One of the men who had just stepped out of the car was Matteo.
A tight knot formed in my throat.
Yesterday’s conversation had been more than enough—the last thing I needed was for him to spot me right now.
Lately, he’d been invading my life way too much.
I tried to slip closer to the entrance of the optician’s shop, but it was too late.
Matteo’s gaze shifted straight toward me.
He stopped in his tracks, an eyebrow rising ever so slightly.
It seemed he was just as surprised to see me here as I was to see him.
For some reason, Matteo cast a brief glance across the street toward a row of parked cars before heading straight for me.
Dammit.
“What are you doing here?” He stayed on the sidewalk, but unlike me, he actually had an umbrella.
Today, he was back to his usual attire—trousers, a crisp button-down, and a suit jacket—which instantly made him look older, harder, and darker again.
“Just enjoying the rain,” I muttered, hoping my sarcasm would kill any chance of continuing the conversation.
A faint flicker of curiosity crossed my mind—wondering what on earth he was doing in this part of town—but I checked myself before I could ask.
“So, this is the famous Diana?” Hearing the voice from my right, I turned to see the second man from the car approaching us.
He looked about Matteo’s age—tall, though not quite as imposing, standing nearly a full head shorter.
Dark hair with shaved sides, dressed in the same sharp trousers and button-down shirt.
Matteo dressing like that was already an anomaly; guys our age usually wore completely different clothes.
But seeing two guys standing here in tailored suits sent a chill through me, planting uneasy thoughts in my mind.
“Whoa,” the guy said, his eyes slowly taking me in.
“She’s stunning.
Almost too stunning.
Matteo, you’re going to have your hands full keeping guys away from her.
You know, exceptionally pretty girls can be a real headache—they can drive a man out of his mind.” I glanced back at the SUV they’d arrived in and had to fight to keep my face neutral.
I didn’t know much about cars, but that vehicle was ridiculously, outrageously expensive.
Which meant this guy had to be from some influential family.
Clearly mafia-affiliated.
And Matteo…
was he something like his bodyguard?
Given Matteo’s massive build and height, it made sense that he’d be hired for that kind of work.
He might come from a dirt-poor, nobody family, but a physique like his opened doors and put food on the table—ensuring he had a hot meal every night.
“I’m Cesare,” the guy introduced himself.
Even though he already knew who I was, I stated my name anyway: “Diana.” I had no idea which mob family Cesare belonged to or what rank his father held, but considering he had a high-end luxury vehicle and a personal bodyguard, he was clearly high up the food chain.
And as a member—even an insignificant one—of Don De Rosa’s syndicate, I was obligated to show proper deference.
I gave him a slight bow, little more than a polite nod, but respectful nonetheless.
Both Matteo and Cesare raised their eyebrows simultaneously.
An uncomfortable silence settled over us, broken only by the heavy pounding of the rain.
“What the hell are you doing?” Matteo asked, staring at me.
“Greeting him properly,” I said, feeling a sudden pang of awkwardness.
Did I mess up?
The last thing I wanted was word getting back to Don De Rosa that I was rude or ignorant of protocol.
Not that anyone had ever bothered to raise me properly anyway; I’d just read through the syndicate’s code of etiquette out of sheer curiosity.
“And you don’t want to greet me like that?” Matteo lowered his eyelids slightly, as though something had seriously irritated him.
“You’ll live,” I muttered again, mostly out of awkwardness, hoping my cheeks hadn’t turned bright red.
Cesare blinked several times before bursting into laughter, as if he’d just witnessed something absolutely hilarious.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t share in the joke.
When were they finally going to leave?
“She’s even better than I expected,” Cesare said to his bodyguard once his laughter subsided, a smile still lingering on his face.
“But you should probably sort things out with your fiancée first.” Fiancée?
Matteo has a fiancée?
Matteo turned a dark, heavy stare on his employer.
It was so intimidating that even I felt uneasy.
“She was going to find out sooner or later anyway.” Cesare shrugged.
“All right, I’m heading inside.
I’ll wait for you there.” He left, and Matteo turned his attention back to me.
His irises looked almost the exact same shade as the sky overhead.
“I see you’re capable of being damn polite.” “With some people, yes.” I stepped up onto the stair beside the entrance to the optician’s shop.
Even then, I still wasn’t anywhere near Matteo’s height.
“You have a fiancée.” I wasn’t asking.
I was stating a fact.
My lips pressed together as a sharp sense of hostility stirred inside me, almost like claws raking across my skin.
“There is a woman who was supposed to become my wife, but neither she nor I want that anymore.
Even our parents have decided that agreeing to this marriage probably wasn’t the best idea.” Matteo said it with complete indifference, as though he were discussing something that had absolutely no significance.
But I tensed.
Usually, only an idiot spoke without thinking, and Cesare certainly hadn’t seemed like one.
The strange way he’d brought up the subject of Matteo’s fiancée, seemingly out of nowhere, left me with an uneasy feeling.
It almost sounded like a warning.
And somehow, I didn’t think that warning had been meant for Matteo.
But I exhaled and let it go.
Whatever was going on had nothing to do with me.
There was no relationship between Matteo and me.
I was about to respond when a powerful gust of wind made me shiver.
The torrential rain had made the weather miserable, and eventually, desperate to warm my freezing fingers even a little, I slipped my hands into the pockets of my hoodie.
For some reason, Matteo took off his jacket.
I flinched when he draped it over my shoulders.
“Why are you…?” I immediately tried to take it off, but Matteo firmly placed his umbrella into my hand as well.
I startled and tried to give both back, but Matteo was already walking away.
By the time I finally hurried after him, trying to keep his jacket from sliding off my shoulders and landing in one of the puddles, the door to one of the apartment buildings had already closed behind him.
I couldn’t get inside.
The door was locked.