“Yes, you.” She pokes my chest with her finger. “I heard from a little birdie that your birthday is tomorrow.”
Oh shit …
“I figured you probably have plans with your family tomorrow night, so I was making you a cake for tonight. And according to my source, your favorite is chocolate cake with chocolate frosting.”
“And would that source happen to be stuck behind bars?” I half joke as we walk back to the kitchen.
“Yes, and he insisted I take a picture and have an extra slice for him.”
She walks in front of me, but before she can get far, I reach out and pull her backward, so her back is flush against my front.
“Thank you, Dani.”
She turns her head to look up at me. “For what?”
I lean down and press a kiss to her cheek. “For being you.”
21
Daniella
Matteo is dyslexic.Now that I know, so many things make sense, like the way he always has an earbud in one ear. Or how, sometimes, when he’s texting someone, he’ll voice-text it. I thought he was just being lazy, but that’s not the case at all. He’s adapted, and he has done a damn good job of doing so.
“All right,” he says, leaning against the counter, “let’s make this damn cake so I can eat some.”
I go about making the batter while Matteo watches. We talk about our day and what we should order in for dinner since we’re celebrating his birthday, and he invites me to his brother’s house for his birthday dinner tomorrow night.
“You’ll get to see my mom,” he says.
“I haven’t seen her in years. But my mom said she was so proud of her. She moved on and met someone, right?”
“Yeah. Some boring-ass financial adviser.” Matteo chuckles. “But she’s happy. I went to his office the other day to have lunch with them and walked in on them fucking.”
He mock gags, and I laugh.
“That’s what I want.”
He quirks a brow. “I didn’t know you were into voyeurism, but if that’s your thing …”
He shrugs a shoulder, and I slap his chest playfully, tryingand failing to ignore how gorgeous his body is without a shirt on. Between his chiseled chest, masculine tattoos, and rock-hard abs, he’s a walking, talking fantasy come to life.
“Not watching people have sex!” I choke out, hoping he doesn’t hear how affected I am. “I want to be the one having sex in the office. I want a man who wants me so badly that he can’t help himself.”
I should’ve known that Enrique wasn’t really into me when I’d mention wanting to have sex and he’d tell me he was too tired.
“What’s this?” Matteo asks, picking up the bag of flour. “Almond flour?”
I nod. “You’re training, and it’s healthier.”
Matteo’s eyes go soft. “You looked up a healthier cake recipe for me, Little Russo?”
He uses my nickname, which I usually hate, but for some reason, this time, it sounds different on his lips—more reverent.
“Yes,” I breathe out. “The recipe is also high protein.”
Matteo glances around at the ingredients sitting on the counter with renewed eyes and smiles. Then, he smirks. “You sure this cake is going to be good? I’ve seen some of those videos people make, and that shit never looks edible.”
“Well, there’s only one way to find out.”
