The scent of espresso and almond croissants clung to Emilio's shirt as he stood behind the counter, pretending to be busy. The morning rush had long passed, but he remained in a daze, wiping down an already clean display case. His mind, however, was a thousand miles away still tangled in Matteo's arms, in the whispers shared beneath tangled sheets.
Their night together had been unlike anything he'd ever experienced equal parts wild and tender, like the mafia man had finally let go of a thousand steel-forged walls just for him. But now, in the bright light of morning, everything felt… too quiet. Too normal.
"You're going to polish a hole through the glass at this point," Rosa teased from behind him. She had that mischievous glint in her eye, her dark curls bouncing as she leaned into the counter. "What's his name?"
Emilio blinked. "Huh?"
She smirked. "You've been walking around like you've been kissed by an angel or maybe a devil with very talented hands."
Heat rose to his cheeks instantly. "It's not like that."
Rosa raised a brow. "So, there is someone."
Before Emilio could answer, the little bell above the door chimed.
And just like that, the air shifted.
In walked Matteo. No suit today. Just black jeans, a white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tattoos peeking out like secrets on his skin. No guards. No dramatics. Just him.
But somehow, he still managed to command every atom in the room.
"Hi," he said softly, eyes locking with Emilio's.
"Hi," Emilio echoed, heart skipping.
Rosa's eyebrows shot up, but she wisely backed away toward the kitchen.
Matteo approached the counter with the kind of calm that shouldn't exist in men like him. "I was in the area," he said, resting his hands on the wood. "Thought I'd see if you still remembered me."
Emilio rolled his eyes, but the smile tugging at his lips gave him away. "It's been twelve hours."
"Felt like longer."
Their eyes lingered.
"I can't stay long," Matteo said, glancing down. "Business. The kind that always ruins good mornings."
Emilio hesitated. He wanted to ask what kind. He wanted to pretend this was just a normal flirtation, that Matteo wasn't the kind of man people whispered about in alleyways. But he didn't.
"Then why come?"
Matteo looked at him then truly looked. "Because I needed to see you while I was still someone you smiled at."
The words made Emilio's chest ache.
"You're not losing me," Emilio said, surprising even himself.
Matteo's jaw tightened. "You don't know what you're saying."
"Then tell me. Make me understand."
The silence between them stretched. The bakery faded away. There was only the weight of unsaid truths hanging in the air.
But Matteo didn't speak.
He reached over the counter instead and brushed his fingers along Emilio's wrist, just once, like he was memorizing the feel of him.
"I'll be back tonight," he said finally. "I'll tell you then."
Emilio nodded, barely trusting his voice.
As Matteo walked out, Emilio felt a chill creep into his spine.
Something was shifting.
And whatever was coming next it wasn't going to be gentle.