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)
I should be out with my teammates, eating, laughing and basking in the fact that my name is now written even deeper into Roma’s history.
But I’m not.
Because all I can think about is her.
Daphne Sinclair - smart-mouthed, sharp-eyed, and still somehow a complete fucking mystery to me.
She was all knowing smiles and quick remarks in our post-match interview, but I’ve checked my phone a hundred times since then, and there’s still nothing.
Just silence.
And I hate it.
This woman has somehow managed to take up every inch of space in my head, and I don’t even know how she did it. One minute, she was just another journalist - a persistent, slightly annoying one, at that - and now?
Now she’s the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about before I sleep.
We made progress after the charity event. Then after the locker room. And again, after I took her out to one of my favourite spots, and then took her home.
So why is she hesitating?
Why is she fighting?
It’s frustrating as hell, but I’m not the type of man to just sit back and accept things I don’t understand. I need answers.
I need to fix this.
Which is why I showered and changed at record speed and am now standing in the stadium’s car park.
Her rental car was easy enough to spot, and I hang back, watching and waiting. I’m almost beginning to wonder whether she’s decided to ditch her car and take metro when I finally see her -
And something is off.
She’s moving too fast. Her shoulders are hunched, her fingers curled too tightly around her keys.
She’s looking over her shoulder, scanning the car park and surrounding area like she’s expecting someone to jump out at her.
My jaw locks.
Chapman.
I instinctively know that this asshole is responsible for it.
Did that prick say something to her tonight to spook her?
The thought makes my blood boil. My fists clench at my sides as I move, closing the distance between us.
I don’t bother hiding my footsteps, making sure she hears me coming -
But then she spins, her keys raised like she’s about to stab me in the eye.
I grin.
Even now, even on edge, she’s got fire.
"Easy, bella," I say, watching as she exhales sharply and sags against her car.
"Jesus, Matteo!" she hisses, pressing a hand to her chest. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Waiting for you," I say simply. "That text you promised me… It must’ve gotten lost in the cloud."
Her eyes narrow.
"The cloud?"
"It happens," I shrug. "Technology these days. Really unreliable. Unless, of course, you never sent it."
She crosses her arms, shifting her weight like she’s already planning her escape.
"I’ve been busy."
"Ah, sì, of course," I smirk. "I can imagine you haven't had even thirty seconds to send a message."
"Has anyone ever told you that you're a pain in the ass?"
"Yes, you. And yet, here you are," I murmur, stepping closer, boxing her in against her car. "Standing in front of me. Talking to me. Looking at me like you missed me."
"I’m not looking at you like that," she snaps, but her gaze flickers - to my lips, my chest, my hands braced on the car beside her.
"Liar."
She swallows.
"If you’re quite finished -"
"Relax," I say, tilting my head. "I just wanted to see you."
Her breath catches.
"Well, you’ve seen me."
I stay where I am, close enough to feel the warmth of her body, to see the rise and fall of her chest.
"Is that all I get?" I murmur. "A cold shoulder and no text?"
A flicker of uncertainty crosses her face, and then I remember the way she was moving just now - the way she kept looking over her shoulder, the way her grip on her keys was just a little too tight.
"Why were you so jumpy?"
She blinks, clearly caught off guard by the change in topic.
"What?"
"You were moving fast, looking over your shoulder like you thought someone was following you," I say, my gaze searching hers. "Did something happen? Did someone say something?"
Her lips part, but she hesitates.
"No," she says finally. "I just... I don’t know. It’s late. I guess I was just being cautious."
I don’t believe her.
Not for a fucking second.
But I also know her well enough to know that pushing too hard will only make her shut me out.
"You sure?" I press, my voice lower now, softer.
"I’m fine, Matteo," She nods. "Really."
I study her for another second, then nod slowly, filing it away for later.
"Alright," I say, my smirk returning. "But you know what’s not fine?”
She groans, tipping her head back against the car.
“Matteo -”
“That’s right. The fact that you still haven’t texted me."
"Not this again."
"Oh, definitely this again," I say. "I gave you my number. I made it very easy for you. And yet? Silence. Pure, deafening silence."
I sigh dramatically, shaking my head.
"Do you know how that feels, Daphne?"