Matteo’s POV

The moment she crashed into me, I knew my day had just gotten interesting.

I barely had time to react before she staggered back, her wide eyes locking onto mine like a deer caught in headlights. For a few seconds, she just stood there, her mouth slightly parted, completely mesmerized. And damn, if I wasn’t entertained by it.

I took my time studying her, letting my gaze drift over the delicate features, the way her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and the faint flush creeping up her neck. She was cute in a way she probably didn’t even realize—completely unaware of the effect she had when she looked at someone like that.

I smirked, leaning in just slightly. “You okay there, princess?”

She blinked, as if snapping out of some spell, and quickly stepped back. Her cheeks were red, but she tried to play it off, crossing her arms over her chest.

I chuckled, low and deep. “You gonna keep staring, or should I be flattered?”

She scowled, but before she could come up with some sort of snappy response, the boutique doors swung open.

I didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. The moment I heard that fake, overly friendly voice, my good mood soured.

“Matteo! What a pleasant surprise.”

Victor.

I finally looked away from the girl—Aria, I was guessing—and turned my attention to the man I despised. He strolled toward us with that slimy grin, his hands stuffed casually into the pockets of his expensive slacks. Everything about him reeked of pretense, from the perfectly styled hair to the way he always tried too hard to seem important.

I didn’t bother masking my reaction. My smirk dropped, and instead, I let my expression turn cold, my distaste evident.

Victor hesitated for a split second before clearing his throat. “I was actually just talking about you earlier.”

“Lucky me,” I drawled.

He chuckled awkwardly, pretending not to notice the tension. “Still as charming as ever, I see.”

I didn’t respond. I had no patience for him, and he damn well knew it.

Victor shifted, then plastered on another one of his fake smiles. “Listen, Matteo, I was hoping you’d reconsider coming to the wedding. It’s going to be quite the event.”

I arched a brow, unimpressed. “Not interested.”

Victor sighed dramatically, shaking his head like I was some rebellious child. “You always were difficult.” Then, as if he had just thought of something amusing, he added with a chuckle, “Though, if you don’t want to come for the family, at least stop by and throw your favorite stepbrother some cash, huh?”

Nobody laughed. Not me. Not Aria.

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