Dante
Matteo sprawled in the chair across from my desk like he paid the mortgage on the office, ankles crossed, a toothpick rolling between his teeth.
“If you’re going to stare holes in my ceiling, at least bring me good news,” I said.
He smirked. “I’m pacing on the inside. Very efficient.”
The door swung open without a knock. Nico stepped in, shut it behind him, and didn’t bother sitting.
“Make it worth interrupting me,” I said.
His gaze flicked once to Matteo, once back to me. “She left the house with Amelia. Late morning.”
“Where?.”
“Small café off Via Lirio. Neutral ground.”
Matteo’s toothpick stilled. “Romantic.”
Nico’s mouth didn’t move. “They didn’t order romance. They ordered coffee. And she chose a corner table away from the window.”
I leaned back, fingers
