Emily's Pov
The warm aroma of coffee filled the small café as I sat in the corner booth, my fingers curled around a cup of coffee I had barely touched.
My eyes and attention drew to the door for the fifth time in the past two minutes. He was already six minutes late.
I was wondering if I should call him and ask where he was, if he could make it or not. I didn't tell my dad I was going out, so I didn't plan to stay long outside.
I took another slow sip, forcing myself to appear calm even though my pulse racing. Then, the door opened and there he was.
He stepped inside with an easy confidence, wearing a black jacket over a fitted shirt, dark jeans, and that same faint, disarming smile from the other night. The kind that could lower anyone's guard within seconds.
He spotted me instantly, like he knew where I was, he slid into the seat across from me, letting out a heavy sigh.
"Hey," he said lightly, his voice smooth. "You asked me to meet you, so here I am. Any problem?"
"You're late," I said, keeping my tone casual.
"Traffic," he said with a faint shrug, but his eyes… his eyes told another story. They were sharp, restless, always moving, scanning the room as if searching for something… or someone.
"First of all," I said, leaning forward, "thank you… for the other day. You didn't have to help me, but you did."
"I appreciate that." he answered flatly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
I kept my gaze fixed on him, watching every movement, the way his fingers tapped the edge of the table, how he occasionally glanced toward the window, and the subtle way his eyes swept over the café like he was mapping escape routes or an exit.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"Yeah," he replied quickly. "So… what is it you wanted to talk about?"
"Well… I realized you never told me your name."
He paused, then smirked slightly. "That's true. I'm Matteo Santoro."
"Matteo," I repeated. "Nice name."
At that moment, something in me loosened. I'd been bracing for confirmation that he was the man I suspected, but Matteo Santoro? That didn't connect to the name I half saw on the paper in his car. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it wasn't him after all.
"I'm Emily," I said, offering a small smile.
After that, we talked for a few minutes about nothing and everything. Then, out of nowhere, he said, "How about I drop you off?"
I hesitated and looked at him. Why was he always offering to drive me? Was it just kindness… or was there something else?
"Sure," I said finally.
He offered to pay for my drink before we both stepped outside and into the late evening air.
Matteo led me toward his car, unlocking it with a click. Neither of us noticed the black sedan parked across the street.
I just sat in the passenger sit after he opened the door for me and he went into his, revving up the engine before driving.
That evening, I walked into the kitchen to find my father chopping some vegetables. His movements were precise, but the knife's edge hit the cutting board with a force that made me pause.
"Hey dad." I greeted.
"How was your day?" he asked without looking at me.
"It was fine," I said, setting my bag on the counter.
"Meet anyone interesting?" he asked, and I froze.
His question made me pause and my mind started racing with thoughts, heart beating fast.
How could he have known? Was he following me? No I don't think so, otherwise I would have been home before him.
"No," I lied, forcing my tone to stay casual.
He finally looked up, his gaze sharp like he was trying to see through me with one look. "Hmm. Alright. I thought it would be interesting if you met someone new."
"Nope, I met no one. Just went to sit and....think." I added, picking up my bag and avoiding his gaze.
Dinner was different that night.
The usual light conversation between a father and his daughter was gone, replaced by heavy silence. I could feel his eyes on me every now and then, measuring how much I was letting on, calculating every single detail about me, waiting, as if I would crack under pressure.
Halfway through, I pushed my chair back and got up. "Goodnight, Dad," I said, carrying my plate. I couldn't eat for another second because I didn't understand him, not since I got back.
"We didn't talk...." My father finally voiced out after I had walked halfway towards the door. "Usually we'll talk about anything during dinner but.... You're leaving so soon?"
I turned to him, trying to understand why he chose to say something now. "Well.... I don't know what to say."
"Okay, then. How about you tell me how your day went." He added, leaning back on his chair.
"I told you already, it was boring and I spent it alone."
"Yes, you did. Where did you go?" He asked, suddenly trying to gauge my reaction.
"A Cafe. Just had a coffee, nothing more." I said plainly, making sure I didn't say anything that might include meeting Matteo.
"Alright." He sighed and got up too, taking the plate from my hand.
In my room, I sat at my desk and stared at the business card lying there, the one with Matteo's number.
I felt bad about lying to my father. Actually, a part of me wanted to tell him the truth, to tell him about Matteo and maybe he wouldn't be against me getting him.
But another part of me, the louder one was against it, telling me all the reasons why my decision would fail and all.
Injustice sighed and placed my head on the table, my mind going back to the meeting with him. What if Matteo was lying about his name? What if he wasn't comfortable telling me the truth?
I wanted to see him again, to talk more to him and maybe find out more about him. But that would be dangerous. Not with my father already suspecting me.
My phone buzzed by the side of the desk and when I glanced at it, my eyes widened.
"I need to see you."