Page 72 of Cavaliere

Isn’t it obvious?

My left eyebrow raises as I look at him and back down at me. Matteo is sitting next to me in a suit that looks like it was made specifically to be molded to his fit, muscular body. It also probably cost more than my rent. I know the shiny gold Rolex on his wrist definitely cost more than my rent for the whole year. And here’s me, sitting next to this man who has more money than I would even know what to do with wearing a pair of leggings I bought in a three-pack online and a baggy T-shirt. I’d like to say these are just clothes I lounge in, but my wardrobe stays within the same price range.

“Oh, don’t even fucking start with that shit,” Matteo growls, picking up on what I meant from my stare. “It’s insulting.”

“How is it insulting?” I throw my hands up in the air. “I’m being honest. Anyone that looks at us can see it.”

“And what can they see?” he bites out, his tone having a scary edge.

“That you and I look like we don’t belong.”

Matteo is silent for a long moment, just staring at me. The only sign of life I got was his right eye twitching. “I never thought you would be one to be insecure,” he finally gets out.

It takes everything in me to not roll my eyes. “I’m not insecure, Matteo. I know what I have to work with and what I bring to the table. And I can very confidently say what I bring doesn’t even come close to matching what you bring.”

“It’s not a competition. My family could care less where you come from and how much money you have.” I start to open my mouth to tell him I wasn’t talking about money, but of course, he sees right through me and my lie. “Don’t,” he bites out, making me sit up straight. “You’re really starting to piss me off with this shit. Have I, my brothers, or cousin that you’ve met so far ever made you feel less than?”

“I mean… no, but Alessio hated me immediately as soon as I called him that one night.” I still think he hates me. He’s warmed up enough to the point where his face doesn’t turn into a grimace every time he sees me. I think there will always be that tiny voice in the back of my mind that tells me he’s only acting like this because of where I come from.

“Alessio hates everyone. Don’t take it personally.”

I know he’s probably right, but it still doesn’t reassure my fucked up brain. “I think Rob just got into my head.”

“I’ll take care of Rob, so don’t worry about it. As much as I would love to see you out in my clothes, I don’t want any of my family to see you like that. Change so we can go.”

“Because it’s not designer?” As soon as it was out of my mouth, I immediately wished I could take it back.

“Because it’s for my eyes only. I’d hate to have to kill Gio at family dinner.” Matteo gives my thigh one last squeeze before he leaves me alone on the bed.

I’d hate that too.

A long sigh releases from my mouth as I get up to dig through my suitcases that I still haven’t unpacked.

Never in my almost fifteen-ish years of dating have I ever met anyone’s parents. None of my relationships have ever gone the distance. I honestly wouldn’t even call them relationships. More like flings that sometimes lasted a few months.

Hopefully, I can find something to wear that doesn’t give the impression that I’m homeless, or a straight-up skank.

Somewhere in the middle would be my most authentic self.

Chapter

Forty-Three

WREN

Isettled on a pair of dark denim skinny jeans and a black flowy top.

I know the younger generation wants to eliminate skinny jeans off the face of the earth, but coming from someone who had to deal with their butt crack always being on display in low-rise jeans, it’s not happening for this bitch. I refuse to go back to that era, and that’s a hill I’ll die on.

The top has black lace with a gorgeous flower design on the chest and shoulders leading into the soft black colored fabric. The lace gives the slightest hint of cleavage but not enough to make it look trashy. I thought it gave edgy boho vibes when I saw it at the thrift store.

I opt for a nude smokey eye just to have that light, sultry look. It’s my comfort makeup. Anyone that tells you a sharp wing doesn’t make them feel like a bad bitch is a liar. It’s an instant confidence booster. Am I going to fight or fuck someone? The world will never know.

I paired all of this with my black-heeled boots and called it a day. This is the best I can do with a thirty-minute notice, but I don’t think I look half bad.

“What time are we leaving?” I ask loud enough for it to echo throughout the house as I walk down the stairs.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Matteo calls from his office.