Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 135364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Upstairs, I change into the emerald green bikini I'd shoved into my bag at the last minute. The colour makes my skin look even more tanned than it actually is, and when I tie my hair into a messy bun and swipe sunscreen onto my arms and legs, I actually feel confident.
Or, at the very least, not like an imposter pretending to live the life of a footballer's girlfriend for the weekend.
Fucking hell - what am I even thinking?!
Matteo is already in the pool, swimming slow laps across the wide expanse of water. His powerful strokes cut through the surface effortlessly, sending ripples across the pool's glassy surface.
The sight of him like this - strong, focused and so perfectly at ease - makes my chest tighten.
"You're just going to stand there and admire me, or are you going to join?" he calls, his voice carrying across the water.
I roll my eyes.
"I was just taking a moment to feel sorry for your poor coach. You must be an absolute nightmare to manage."
"Terrible," Matteo agrees, grinning as he treads water. "Can't follow instructions to save my life. Now get in here."
I step to the edge of the pool and dip a toe into the water.
"Oh - it’s warm," I say, surprised.
"Heated," he confirms. "I’m a little fragile when it comes to cold water."
With a laugh, I jump right in.
The water closes around me, deliciously warm and silky against my skin. I resurface with a gasp and slick the stray strands of hair back from my face.
Matteo laughs as he swims towards me before he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me tight against his chest. His skin is slick and cool against mine as he presses a kiss to my shoulder.
"See?" he murmurs. "Perfect."
"Yeah," I agree softly. "It really is."
We float together in the water for what feels like hours, alternating between lazy laps, more playful splashes, and even moments where Matteo traps me against the pool's edge just to kiss me senseless.
At one point, he pulls out his phone from where it sits on the pool deck and snaps a few photos of us together.
"For your private collection?" I tease.
"For my future collection," Matteo corrects, holding the phone out to capture us both. He kisses my temple before snapping the picture. "These are just the first of many."
I don't know what to say back to that - my throat feeling tight -so I don't say anything at all. Instead, I swallow down the feeling and smile warmly at him before indulging in another lap of his pool.
*
A little while later - after we've dried off and changed into casual clothes - Matteo suggests we go shopping and get some lunch while we’re out.
"Shopping?" I ask, frowning as I rinse out my coffee cup in the sink. "What for?"
"Clothes. Shoes. Whatever you want."
He leans against the counter, watching me with that familiar lazy grin as I dry the cup and place it on the rack.
"Matteo... I don't need you buying me things," I tell him.
He steps closer, cupping my chin so I have no choice but to meet his gaze.
"You're overthinking again."
"I'm just not used to... this," I admit, gesturing vaguely toward the villa around us. "It feels like too much."
His thumb brushes along my jaw.
"La vita è adesso, bella."
I blink.
"What does that mean?"
"Life is now," Matteo says softly. "Stop worrying about what feels like too much. Enjoy what we have. Right here. Right now."
My heart clenches, and I let out a quick breath through my nostrils.
"Okay," I tell him.
"Good girl," he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Now go get dressed. Rome has great shops, but you’ve never experienced shopping with me."
I smile despite myself.
"God help me."
Matteo laughs and swats my ass as he steers me towards the stairs.
And for once, I don’t overthink it.
I just go with it.
*
By the time Matteo and I return, my feet are sore, my stomach is full, and his huge bedroom is overflowing with shopping bags.
I stand in the doorway, staring at the sheer volume of them.
Sleek white Chanel carriers, glossy Prada paper bags with black rope handles, delicate cream-colored envelopes from Gucci, Valentino and Fendi. The soft crinkle of tissue paper peeks out from the tops of most, and the air is faintly scented with the leather of the handbag Matteo insisted I needed for my apparent work essentials.
Essentials. As if I’ve ever considered a five-figure handbag essential before.
"It looks like Rome exploded in here," I breathe, taking it all in.
Matteo sets down the last of the bags beside the wardrobe and stretches his arms above his head.
"Impressive, isn't it?"
"It's excessive."
"It's fun," he counters. "And you look too good in everything we bought to have left any of it behind."
I shake my head, still overwhelmed. I've never had more than a few designer pieces - an investment blazer here, a timeless pair of heels there.