“Too late for that,princesa,” I said, stretching my legs out beneath the table, close enough that her bare feet were now softly brushing against my legs.
She didn’t move away.
For a few minutes, the only sounds were the ocean’s rhythmic hush and the clinking of cutlery from the other tables. Morning light spilled across the terrace, warm and gold, catching in Francesca’s hair until it looked like threadsof espresso and bronze. She still tried to pretend she wasn’t enjoying herself – but her shoulders had softened, and that sharp little glare she liked to throw my way was already fading.
“So,” I said, drumming my fingers lightly against the table. “You survived a whole week in paradise. Impressive. Most people would’ve cracked by day three.”
She smirked faintly, finally meeting my eyes. “We have good friends.”
I leaned forward a little, elbows resting on the table. “You’re saying Trevor’s relentless wedding playlists weren’t torture?”
Francesca gave a soft laugh – one of those rare, real ones that always caught me off guard. “Okay, maybe. If I hear one more love song, I might throw myself off a cliff.”
“Noted,” I said, smiling. “I’ll make sure it plays at your birthday. On repeat.”
She rolled her eyes, and there was real heat behind her smile.
Our food arrived not long after. Her fries came out steaming, piled high, with the mojito sweating prettily in the sun beside it. My pancakes were a mess of sugar and strawberries – exactly how I liked them.
We ate slowly, conversation slipping into that easy rhythm we sometimes found when no one else was around to watch us. We talked about the past week: the late-night beach bonfires, the impromptu pool games Zach and Tony started, Kali forcing everyone into matching floral shirts.
“It was good,” she admitted, stirring the ice in her mojito. “The weather’s been perfect. I actually forgot New York existed for a while.”
“Careful,” I said, cutting into my pancakes. “If anyone hears you say you were relaxed, they might not believe it.”
She lifted a fry like a warning. “Don’t push it, Matteo.”
I laughed quietly, resting back in my chair. “I’m serious, though. You needed this. We all did. A break from the noise.”
For a moment, her expression softened – unguarded. She glanced out toward the ocean, her lashes catching the light. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “It’s been good.”
We drifted into talking about work then – our overlapping business territories in the city, the expansion negotiations she’d been spearheading, and the joint deals between my network and her father’s. It should’ve felt like work, but it didn’t.
She was sharp, always. But when she talked strategy, she lit up in this way that drew me in every damn time.
I watched her as she spoke, gesturing with her mojito straw, eyes alive with focus. The breeze played with the hem of her white sundress, warm light kissed her skin, and for a dangerous second, I forgot that this was supposed to be just another game.
She caught me staring.
“What?” she asked, suspicious, but there was a small, reluctant smile tugging at her lips.
“Nothing,” I said, leaning back, letting my gaze linger just long enough to make her blush rise before I looked away. “Just enjoying my breakfast with a view.”
Her cheeks flushed, a soft pink blooming across her cheekbones before she caught herself and rolled her eyes, aiming for nonchalance. It didn’t work – not on me.
She turned back to her fruit salad, spearing a piece of pineapple like it had personally offended her. The breeze lifted her hair, sunlight spilling across her golden olive skin in a way that made her glow.
God, she was beautiful.
Not in the polished, magazine-cover way – that was already a given – but in the way she was utterly herself. Sharp. Stubborn. Untouchable.
And every time I thought I’d figured her out, she surprised me again.
I took a slow sip of my coffee, unable to stop the small smile tugging at my mouth as I watched her pretend not to care that I was watching her.
Yeah. I was in trouble.
I hadn’t planned on spending the entire day by the pool with Matteo.
