Bianca returned, guiding a small cart that carried the faint, savory aroma of roasted herbs and fresh, warm bread.
She arranged the dishes on the low table by the window with quiet efficiency, casting one last, subtly curious glance between the two men before excusing herself with impeccable professionalism.
Felix was drawn to the table first, his curiosity a tangible force.
He lifted a silver cloche, his eyes widening at the presentation: perfectly seared salmon glistening with a delicate glaze, a vibrant mosaic of seasonal vegetables, and a crystal-clear broth steaming gently. "This looks far too elegant for a simple office lunch," he remarked, his tone light as he glanced back at Matteo.
Matteo rose with a measured grace, straightening his cuffs as if the motion itself were a transition from CEO to something else. "It's just lunch."
Felix gave him a look brimming with affectionate knowing. "For you, perhaps. For me? This feels suspiciously like a date."
