CHAPTER 22
28
Amara‘ s POV
“Wear this and meet me downstairs. -M.”
I stared at the note in my hand with the elegant black dress delivered by one of the maids. My first thought was: What the hell is Matteo up to?
It was not like him to be sentimental or
celebratory. Hell, I did not even think he knew what a surprise was. Yet, here I was, holding the evidence that he had gone out of his way for… something.
My second thought? No one should know today was my birthday. It wasn‘ t like I went around broadcasting it. Birthdays. used to mean something when I was younger, but now? They felt like an inconvenience.
But Matteo knew.
And the part of me that had buried the
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city, wearing a tailored black suit that perfectly lined his frame. His usual tough exterior had softened, and his posture relaxed when he turned and saw me, the
smirk that tugged at his lips wasn‘ t his usual cold confidence. It was something gentler, something real.
“You clean up nicely, Saints,” he teased.
“You‘ re not too bad yourself,” I shot back, though my heart betrayed me with its unsteady rhythm..
“What s all this?” I gestured to the setup, feigning indifference even as the warmth of the scene wrapped around me, making my heart flutter.
He stepped closer with his hands in his pockets and his eyes locked onto mine.
“It’s your birthday.”
I raised an eyebrow, crossing my arms.
“And you know that… how?”
“Let’s just say I’m thorough when it comes to the people in my circle.” His
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smirk deepened, but there was no mockery in it. “Now, sit. Before the food gets cold.”
I hesitated for a moment, then sat. Matteo pulled out the chair for me, a gesture so unexpected I had to suppress a laugh.
“You‘ re really committing to this gentleman act, aren’t you?” I said as he poured champagne into my glass.
He took the seat opposite me, his eyes. glinting with amusement. “Don’t get used to it.”
The food was incredible, perfectly cooked steak, roasted vegetables, and a dessert that could have come straight out of a five star restaurant. I swear, I might have seen the chefs too busy in the kitchen earlier when we passed.
But it was not the meal that caught me off guard. It was the man sitting across from
- me.
We talked, and not just about the usual
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CHAPTER S
business or strategies, Matteo asked me questions, about my childhood, about things I enjoyed, and he listened, genuinely listened, and I found myself opening up more than I intended.
Somewhere between bites of dessert, I let my guard slip. “I stopped celebrating my birthday a long time ago.” I admitted.
“Why?” His tone was not prying, just
curious.
I shrugged, pushing the last bite of cake around my plate. “It just… stopped feeling important. There were always bigger things to deal with. People to lead.”
