I rolled my eyes and sipped the wine. “Twitchy?”
He grinned wider. “You’ve had the same drink in your hand for ten minutes and haven’t even made your rounds charming everyone.”
I tilted my head. “You’re the only one worth talking to.”
He chuckled but didn’t let it go. “So what’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
He stared at me.
I gave him my best ‘I’m a Moretti and you don’t get to pry’ smile.
Carlos leaned back, unfazed. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with my teammate, would it?”
That made my stomach tighten. Not in panic, but in frustration. And a little guilt.
“Matteo?” I said, careful to keep my tone airy. “Why would it?”
Carlos shrugged, lazy and perceptive all at once. “Because you’re staring at the door and he’s the only one who has yet to arrive.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but?—
He arrived.
Late. Loud. Charming.
Of course.
Matteo strolled in, clad in denim and a shirt clinging to his chest like it was sewn on. Silver chain around his neck, shirt unbuttoned at the top. His curls looked slightly damp, and when he saw me?—
His smile changed.
Subtle. Slow.
Like he already knew he’d win tonight, even if it was just in a game I swore I wasn’t playing anymore. My father stood to greet him. “Matteo. Solid race today. You fought hard.”
Matteo shook his hand, polite. “Grazie, SignorMoretti. We’ll fight even harder next weekend.”
My father clapped him on the shoulder and sat. “That’s what I like to hear.”
I sipped my wine and avoided looking at either of them.
Carlos leaned toward me again, smug. “So…nothing, huh?”
I elbowed him under the table. He just laughed. Matteo sat directly across from me, not letting me escape his gaze while each course was served, but not engaging with me once, setting my nerves on fire. If Matteo was anything, it was chatty. He never stopped talking. He always had something to say and wasusually flirting with me while he was at it. And granted, we were at a team dinner, my father on one side of me and my oldest friend on the other, but still, I oddly missed his charmed smiles and words.
After the courses had been cleared, I excused myself from the table, heading for the bathroom, heels clicking as I went. The air in the hallway was cooler, quieter. My reflection in the mirror looked like I was in control. The mask was back in place.
But I didn’tfeellike it. My insides were screaming a different story.
I lingered a little longer than necessary, dabbing under my eyes, smoothing my dress.
When I stepped back into the hallway, I felt him before I saw him.
Leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable—except for the fact that his gazeburned.
“Stalking the hallway now?” I murmured, brushing past him.
