I stretched, letting the soft sheets slide against my skin. The sweater I'd borrowed had ridden up during the night, and for a moment I just lay there, watching dust motes drift through the golden light.
But I couldn't stay.
Naomi's flight was arriving tonight, and I needed to be at the hotel in time to meet her. Tomorrow the other models would arrive, and then it was final fittings, final adjustments, final everything before the opening.
My real life was waiting.
And then there was the Matteo thing.
I laughed out loud, the sound strange in the quiet room.
Me and Matteo. Could you even imagine?
My mind had been playing tricks on me last night. That moment in the hallway, the rain dripping from our hair, his fingers brushing my cheek—it was just the setting. The candles, the garden, the wine. And then the rain, appearing out of nowhere like something from a film.
Honestly, it was all very convenient. Too convenient. Like the universe had hired a paid actor to create the perfect romantic atmosphere.
But it was a new day now. The sun was shining. There was no wine clouding my judgment. Matteo and I could go back to being what we actually were: friends. Acquaintances, really. People who had met three times and shared a pleasant evening.
Nothing more.
I climbed out of bed and looked around for my clothes. They were folded neatly on a chair by the window—someone had collected them, washed and dried them while I slept. The linen trousers were soft now, the cream blouse crisp and fresh.
I changed quickly, folding Matteo's borrowed sweater and placing it on the bed. Then, I continued starting my day.
I checked my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a disaster, but there was nothing to be done about that without proper products. I finger-combed it into something resembling order and called it good enough.
Deep breath. Time to face the day.
I opened the door and walked straight into Matteo.
Or almost into him. He was standing right there, hand raised like he'd been about to knock.
"Oh—" I stepped back. "Hi."
Heat rushed up my cheeks. What the hell was happening to me?
"Buongiorno, Bella."He dropped his hand, smiling. He was wearing a simple blue shirt today, untucked, the sleeves rolledup. His hair was still damp from a shower. "I was just coming to let you know breakfast is ready."
"Right. Breakfast. Yes." I was aware that I was nodding too much. My voice sounded strange, too high. "Actually, I really need to leave. I have to get back to Milan. My friend is flying in tonight, and the boutique, and?—"
I was rambling. Why was I rambling?
"Of course." His smile didn't waver. "My driver can take you. But it will be about thirty minutes before he arrives. You could eat while you wait."
"That's okay. I can just wait. In the room." I gestured vaguely behind me. "I'll just go back to the room."
I turned around.
The door had swung shut behind me.
I walked directly into it.
My forehead connected with solid wood. The impact wasn't hard, but it was loud, and humiliating, and I heard myself make a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a groan.
"Bella!"Matteo's hands were on my shoulders immediately, turning me around. "Are you okay? Let me see."
His face was close to mine, brow furrowed with concern. His fingers brushed my forehead, checking for damage.