Chapter 1 - A glass of wine.

Isabel had never been the kind of person to wear a shimmering gown and high heels. Her usual attire consisted of sneakers or flats paired with a suit or a simple button-down, followed by a six-hour shift behind a desk before finally indulging in a much-needed coffee break. But today was different.

Today, she was on assignment, and as a new journalist, this meant everything to her—finally, a real story, a step toward building her career.

A tiny buzz of excitement prickled beneath her calm exterior, but she kept it well hidden beneath a layer of practiced composure.

After all, it wasn’t exactly a heart-racing story: covering a charity gala. Nothing interesting ever happened at these events.

All she had witnessed at similar gatherings were brooding rich men with their big bellies and low-toned conversations, shaking hands and making underhanded deals that had little to do with the charities they professed to support.

Not that she was one to judge openly. Isabel didn’t like people who wore their judgments too easily, and she certainly wasn’t one to broadcast her opinions. Her job was simply to cover the event, to observe and document without letting her personal feelings cloud her report.

Taking a deep breath, she exhaled, letting go of any lingering doubts, and stepped out of the taxi.

The night air was cool against her skin as she stood in front of the Empire Royale Hotel, its historic grandeur looming tall, each window softly glowing like a modern palace.

Isabel had only admired this place from a distance until now. Here she was, dressed in a gold shimmery gown, wondering if she looked more like a guest or a lost girl in her mother’s dress.

Her phone buzzed in her purse, snapping her out of her thoughts. Glancing down, she narrowed her eyes at the caller ID. It was Vivi, and the corners of her mouth lifted as she answered.

"Hey, what's up?" Isabel greeted, trying to keep her voice casual.

"Hey, girl! How’s the dinner outfit?" Vivi's voice was bubbly and full of energy.

"Uncomfortable, thank you very much." Isabel chuckled, glancing down at the dress, feeling slightly out of place.

"Oh, please! I make you look stunning, and this is how you repay me?” Vivi scoffed dramatically, as only she could.

"Thanks for making me stunning," Isabel replied, rolling her eyes, even though Vivi couldn’t see. “But you do realize we have very different ideas about what ‘pretty’ should look like, right?"

"Yes, because you’re stuck in soccer-mom fashion while I’m in tune with the trends," she teased.

Isabel could hear the sound of crunching through the line, knowing Vivi was munching on something.

"Are you eating while talking to me?” Isabel asked, laughing.

"Is that important?” Vivi shot back, sounding unbothered. “But yes, if you’re wondering, I ordered pizza. Dave and I are just going to crash for the night.”

Isabel scoffed playfully. "One night, I’m not around, and you have Dave over?"

“Last I checked, he’s my boyfriend, not yours," Vivi teased, a playful giggle escaping her.

"Well, tell your boyfriend there better not be any crumbs on the couch when I get back, or you’re both done for."

Vivi laughed, clearly amused. "Love you too! Go kill it at that dinner."

"It’s not really that kind of event," Isabel replied, though she knew Vivi couldn’t see the slight frown on her face as she stepped inside the gala.

The cool, sophisticated air of the place hit her instantly, a slight chill dancing down her spine. She looked around, immediately impressed and slightly overwhelmed. Whoever owned this hotel had a taste for luxury that was nothing short of extravagant.

The entire venue was washed in golden lighting, and crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting a soft glow on the guests below, who drifted through the room with glasses of wine and perfectly rehearsed smiles.

Isabel took a deep breath, absorbing the polished floors, the elegantly dressed people, the clinking of glasses, and the hum of refined conversations.

What kind of charity event was this, anyway? She had attended a few before, so she had some idea of what to expect—something with warmth and generosity in the air, maybe a few heartfelt speeches.

But this? This felt more like a high-end celebration for the wealthy than a fundraiser for the less fortunate.

She adjusted her purse strap and walked further into the hall after showing her ID to the doorman—a massive man who, despite his imposing frame, gave a gentle nod as she passed. He looked like he could have been a retired bodyguard, someone with stories that would make the tabloids, but here he was, just another silent guardian in the shadows.

A passing waiter offered her a glass of wine, and she took it with a polite nod, not particularly interested but wanting to blend in.

She drifted toward one of the grand pillars, her back resting against the cool marble as she surveyed the room. Part of her hoped she’d fade into the background—this wasn’t her crowd, and she had no intention of mingling with the wrong type of people.

Yet, as the minutes ticked by, boredom started to settle in. So far, the most thrilling thing she’d done was observe people’s outfits, noting who wore the designer and who tried too hard. And let’s be honest, that wasn’t going to make for a very compelling article.

“Maybe I should move around more,” she thought aloud, though she didn’t make a move just yet.

The thought lingered at the edge of her mind as she swirled the wine in her glass, watching it lazily swirl around the rim. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to drink it.

“Are you planning to have that?” a voice asked, startling her out of her thoughts.

Isabel turned to find a light-skinned man with a head full of thick, neatly styled brown hair and an easy smile that radiated confidence.

“I’m sorry if I startled you,” he said, offering a slight bow, his gaze steady and warm.

Isabel raised an eyebrow, half amused. "And what makes you think I’d be scared of you?"

He simply smiled as though he found her question amusing and stepped beside her without another word. A waiter approached, and he took a glass of wine, nodding in thanks before taking a sip.

“It seems you’re new here,” he observed, his voice smooth and calm, as if he’d sized her up within moments.

"And what makes you think so?” she asked, her curiosity piqued as she tried to maintain her composure.

“Well, for starters, you don’t know me,” he replied. There was a hint of pride in his voice, something that left a bit of a sour taste, as though he expected her to be honored to meet him.

“Should I know you?” she asked, genuinely curious and slightly offended.

He leaned in slightly as if about to answer in confidence when the speakers suddenly crackled to life, and the room fell silent. A gentle yet commanding voice echoed through the hall. “Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats as we begin.”

The man beside her straightened, giving his blue tuxedo jacket a quick tug as he drained his glass in one fluid motion. “I’ll see you soon, Isabel,” he said, flashing a quick wave before slipping into the crowd.

For a moment, Isabel stood frozen, watching him blend effortlessly into the sea of high-profile guests.

Her mind spun. How did he know her name, and who was this man?

Chapter 2: Confrontation

The charity program was about to kick off. An old man approached the mic and tapped it lightly, causing a feedback squeak that made the audience wince slightly. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to this year’s charity event for the annual Take a Kid Off the Streets program," he announced, his voice booming through the hall. Applause erupted from the crowd, filling the air with a mix of enthusiasm and hope.

"I'd like to thank you all for your efforts and assistance over the years," he continued, flipping through the pages of his speech. "Your generous donations have helped us take over 180 children off the streets of New York, making it a cleaner and safer place for everyone."

As he spoke, Isabelle tried to focus, but her mind was elsewhere. Despite the sea of faces in the hall, a pair of piercing blue eyes found hers. Matteo Ricci. He sat across the room, his gaze locked onto her with an intensity that made her skin tingle uncomfortably.

Usually, she thrived under scrutiny—it's part of her job. But this felt different. She couldn’t tell if it was a good difference or a bad difference, and that uncertainty unnerved her.

"Yes, as part of our donation, we will be calling up some graduates from this event to give their speeches," the old man continued. "All of the kids we’ve helped have gone on to attend reputable universities, including Harvard, the University of Chicago, and even institutions in China and the Middle East.

Many of them have graduated at the top of their classes in their respective fields."

Another round of applause filled the room, but Matteo remained silent. His eyes never wavered from Isabelle’s. She held his gaze defiantly, challenging him to look away. He didn’t. Instead, a sneaky smirk danced across his lips before he reluctantly joined the applause, looking as if he found the whole event rather amusing.

What is with this guy? Isabelle thought, shaking her head.

"And now, we will be presenting awards to those who have shown the most effort and support towards our campaign," the old man said, his voice rising with excitement. "Let’s begin with the award for the most generous donor. This award goes to the individual who has supported us with over $1.6 billion in donations."

A hush fell over the crowd as drum rolls echoed in the background. Isabelle rolled her eyes, thinking it was just some old geezer craving recognition. The reality was that these awards weren’t necessarily based on goodwill—they were about how much money someone was willing to throw around.

"The award for the most generous giver this year goes to…" The old man paused for dramatic effect, pulling out a card from a white envelope. "Matteo Ricci!"

The crowd erupted into applause, but Isabelle felt frozen in place. Matteo stood up, adjusting his suit before heading to the stage. He waved to the audience, his calm demeanor contrasting with the uproar around him.

"Thank you so much, New York City," he began, his voice smooth and confident. I am always a fan of giving back and ensuring everyone has a fair chance in life. This forum is one of those opportunities, and for that, I'm very grateful."

As he spoke, Isabelle felt as if he were directing his words right at her, his blue eyes boring into hers with an intensity that felt personal. Her thoughts swirled—was this some kind of game? Was he trying to make a connection, or was it just his way of flaunting his success?

Once offstage, he rejoined the crowd while Isabelle rolled her eyes again. The award ceremony transitioned smoothly into the next phase: the dinner gala.

"Networking time," she muttered to herself, glancing at the buffet table that had just been set up. A delectable spread of Chinese rice was on display, and she was starving. But before she could reach it, a presence loomed behind her.

“Well, what could a beautiful young lady like yourself be doing all alone?” an old man asked, his voice dripping with insincerity. He was grinning, his glasses precariously perched on his nose as he tugged at his suit, trying to impress.

Isabelle simply smiled back, trying to be polite but uninterested. “Just waiting for the food,” she replied, eyeing the buffet with anticipation. It felt like an eternity, but she was sure the food was taking its time deliberately.

“How about I show you a good time, young lady? What do you think?” he suggested, his arm sliding around her waist.

Disgust flooded through her. She opened her mouth to push his hand away when a voice interrupted from behind.

“Well, I’m so sorry, Old Man Dawson, but it seems you have my date in your hands.”

Isabelle turned to find Matteo, a playful grin on his face. Old Dawson’s hand dropped away immediately, a look of confusion flitting across his features.

“That was rather fast,” Isabelle couldn’t help but think.

“Of course, of course,” Matteo replied smoothly. “I’d love to see you again and enjoy more of your generosity.” He extended his hand for a firm shake, their eyes locking for a brief moment. Isabelle sensed an unspoken exchange but couldn’t decipher what it meant.

As Dawson shuffled away into the crowd, Matteo leaned against the glass slab separating the buffet from the rest of the hall.

“So, your name is Matteo?” Isabelle asked, trying to break the awkward tension.

“Yes, as you may have gathered from that conversation,” he replied, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“How did you know my name is Isabelle?” she pressed, curious about how he had gathered so much information.

“Well, I’m a man who knows a lot of people and maintains a strong network,” he explained, tilting his body toward her and resting his elbow against the glass. “I like to ensure I know everybody at an event.”

“That still doesn’t answer the question,” she challenged, narrowing her eyes playfully.

“It’s on your name tag,” he replied, smirking.

Isabelle looked down, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Oh, shoot!” she laughed, and he joined in, the light-heartedness of the moment easing the tension.

“I thought you must’ve gone through some Batman-level detective work to find that out,” she teased, shrugging her shoulders.

“To be honest, I did think you went through all that trouble, but you weren’t giving off those weird vibes when I first saw you,” he admitted, raising an eyebrow.

“What vibes do I give off then, Matteo?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“You seem a bit arrogant,” he said, his playful tone inviting banter.

“Oh no, not this again!” she replied, exasperated.

“Mom always said I’m arrogant, and I’m not a fan of that label,” he added, feigning distress, his puppy-dog eyes making her laugh.

“Whichever the case, you do seem a bit full of yourself,” she shot back, keeping the banter alive.

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he said, shrugging casually. “It may seem that I cherish this award, but honestly, it’s not really about the award for me.”

“Oh really?” she shot back, raising an eyebrow. “So what’s it about?”

“In truth, it’s all about giving back and helping those who’ve had a rough beginning,” he said, his tone shifting to something more serious. “I don’t want people to go through what I did. So, I give as much as I can to those in need.”

His words struck a chord within her, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability in his confident demeanor.

“Wow, that’s... really admirable,” she said, impressed.

“Thanks, but don’t let it get to my head,” he chuckled, taking a sip of his drink.

“So, what business could possibly bring you in enough money to give out $1.8 billion?” she asked, intrigued.

He met her gaze with a smug look, his brow furrowing slightly. “I’m afraid that’s a conversation for another day,” he replied cryptically, finishing his drink and turning away from her.

“What?” she questioned, confused. “Was it something I said?”

Before she could pursue it further, his phone rang. He pulled it out, speaking in low tones as two tall men in dark suits approached him, whispering urgently.

“Looks like I have some business to cover,” he said, glancing back at her. “But I’d love to see you again.”

“I doubt you will,” she replied, crossing her arms defiantly.

“Really? And why is that?” he asked a playful challenge in his tone.

“Well, I’m not really used to frolicking around with arrogant men,” she quipped, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Oh really? Are we still on that?” he retorted, feigning heartbreak.

“Well, I have a proposition for you, and I wouldn’t want you to say no.”

Chapter 3: A Proposal

As the event carried on, Matteo leaned in close, his voice low. "I'll tell you what it is towards the end of the event. But for now, I’ve got some quick business to attend to."

"I see," she replied, nodding, though her expression showed a hint of reluctance.

“You doubt me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and leaning against the slab of the bar with an extended elbow.

"Well, it’s not like you've given me any reason to trust you," she said, sipping at the content of her glance and casting a sideways glance at him.

He laughed, a confident, almost arrogant laugh. "Well, in case you didn’t notice,” He started.

“..... these gentlemen are waiting for me. And it’d be rude for a gentleman to keep other gentlemen waiting."

“So, you really consider yourself a gentleman?” she said, feigning surprise.

He shot her a sly grin. “Wow, you’ve got a smart mouth.”

“Why, thank you,” she replied, with a mock bow, raising the glass to him as though sharing a toast.

He gave a short laugh. “Well, whichever way you want to spin it, I really do have to go.” With that, he stepped away, leaving her and disappearing into the crowd with the two bodyguards following close behind him.

“Show off,” she thought out loud.

Some time passed, and she continued to sip her drink. When she finally finished, she turned back to face the crowd, casually observing the rest of the event.

She could have sworn otherwise, but she knew that she couldn't help but glance around and try to spot Matteo and this so-called "business" he had to deal with. But he had seemingly vanished into thin air. The man who once never left her sight was now nowhere to be found.

Maybe he wasn’t exaggerating about that “Batman timing,” she thought, laughing internally at it.

As she continued surveying the crowd, she felt like someone joined her.

Turning her head, she met the event’s organizer, the older gentleman who had been speaking earlier—Mr. Harold Locke.

“It’s a pleasure to have you here, Isabel, isn’t it?” he asked, extending his hand.

She gave a polite smile and shook his hand. “Yes, that’s right. Isabel, from the Daily Times.”

“Ah, yes! I’ve heard good things about you, though I don’t believe we’ve crossed paths at any previous events,” he remarked.

“Well, that would be because I’m fairly new. This is my first field assignment,” she replied.

“A rookie, eh?” he chuckled. She joined in, though she wasn’t quite sure if he meant it as a compliment or an insult.

“It’s good to get firsthand experience in this line of work, especially when it involves more intricate fields,” he said.

“Yes, I completely agree. Though I can’t lie—the gala wouldn’t have been my first choice of assignment,” she admitted.

“Oh, I know it’s not the most thrilling. I’m told you have a flair for investigative journalism. But hey, we all start somewhere, right?”

“Absolutely,” she nodded.

“So, how are you finding the event so far?” he asked.

“Well, it’s been… something,” she said with a nod. “You managed to raise quite a lot tonight.” she commended.

“Yes, indeed. Every bit goes into the projects we support, just as we do every year,” he said, pride evident in his tone.

“That’s wonderful, Mr. Locke.”

“Why, thank you. I believe we’ll be hearing good things from your publication. I’ll put in a good word for you, as well,” he added with a wink.

“Ah, you flatter me,” she said with a laugh.

They chatted a bit more until he glanced over her shoulder, noticing someone. “I see you’ve taken a liking to Mr. Matteo,” he said, his tone laced with something she couldn’t quite place.

“Ah, no,” she replied quickly. “I wouldn’t exactly call it a ‘liking.’ Let’s just say… we happened to cross paths.”

“Oh, I see.” Mr. Locke raised a drink to his lips. “Well, if that’s the case, I suppose everything should be fine.”

She looked at him, a bit perplexed. “What do you mean by that?”

He nearly choked on his drink. “Oh, nothing, really. It’s just… let’s just say Mr. Matteo is a man of influence. He tends to get what he wants whenever he wants it.”

“Is he dangerous?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“Not that I know of,” he shrugged. “But with a man of his standing, you can never tell. That kind of power can be… volatile if one happens to be on the wrong side of it. And getting close to a person is often the fastest way to find that side.”

She couldn’t quite make sense of what he meant, but something about it left her unsettled.

As the evening continued, she took photos, shook hands with prolific guests, and laughed politely whenever necessary. While the excitement was undeniable, something felt off—something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. But she decided to leave it be.

As the gala wound down and guests began to leave, Isabel ordered a taxi. She made her way outside, only to hear a familiar voice call from across the street.

“Running away already, Izzy?” She turned around and saw Matteo standing on the other side.

“It would appear that I am,” she replied playfully.

“Really? What about the proposal I mentioned?”

She gave a dismissive wave. “I think I’ll pass.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet,” he said, a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Doesn’t matter. Like I said, I’m not really into the rich and arrogant type.”

He chuckled as he crossed the street with bold steps; there was a fire in his gaze. “You know, I don’t usually tolerate insults.”

“And who said it was an insult?” she challenged a smirk tugging at her lips. “Insults are a matter of perspective. To one, it might be a compliment; to another, it might sting. It’s just a matter of… guilt,” she said, lowering her voice.

He chuckled sharply. “Very funny.”

He paused, then continued, “There’s a festival happening in Italy soon—Sicily—and I’d like you to be there.”

“Really? And I’d be there as… what, exactly?” she asked.

“Anything you want,” he replied with a sly smile.

She considered him for a moment, then shook her head. “Nah, I think I’ll pass.”

“Oh, come on. What have you got to lose?”

“My job, for one,” she shot back, climbing into her taxi.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he said, waving her concern away as if it were nothing.

“Even if I could get the time off,” she replied, “I’d still pass.”

He laughed, tapping the roof of the taxi. “I’ll see you in Italy, then,” he said confidently.

As the car pulled away, she watched him through the window, standing in the middle of the street as he watched her go.

Who does he think he is? She scoffed to herself. The mere thought that he could convince her to travel across the globe just after one evening together was laughable. Gutsy, indeed.

She loosened the carefully pinned bun Vivi had styled her hair into, letting the strands fall freely over her shoulders. She couldn’t wait to get home to the cozy embrace of her bed—or the couch, if Vivi and Dave had already taken over the bedroom.

There would be plenty to talk about, no doubt, and she looked forward to it.

Chapter 4 - After-the-party

The door opened and closed behind a tired, stress-drunk Isabel as she kicked off her shoes, leaving them in the corner of her room.

Her flat wasn’t big or magnificent, but it was tidy, at least as long as she did the tidying herself. Vivi wasn’t exactly big on keeping things neat, though she was always on point when it came to a meal.

Isabel sighed, her body aching with the sort of exhaustion that felt like it would never leave. I knew I shouldn’t have worn that dress, she grumbled to herself.

She looked at the clock on the wall. It was just past midnight, and she knew that meant Vivi and Dave would be fast asleep.

Running a hand through her hair, she loosened the last few pins and held them in place. One small box checked off the list of things she needed to do to settle down for the night.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the apartment, and eventually, she caught sight of Vivi and Dave wrapped in a blanket on the couch. They looked adorable together, she had to admit, and they seemed thoughtful enough to leave her the bed.

Whose idea could that have been? she wondered, a small smile forming on her lips.

Without making a sound, she headed into her bedroom, switching on the desk lamp and pulling her laptop toward her. There was a story to be written, even if her energy was practically gone.

She opened her notepad, transferring her notes over as she typed. Editing photos into the document, she paused, her fingers hovering over the keyboard when she came across Matteo’s picture.

Isabel stared at it for a moment longer than intended. For some reason, it felt like she was seeing him differently. His broad shoulders seemed more prominent now, especially in the sleek, black, long-sleeved shirt that contrasted against his fair skin, giving him an even more striking presence.

What am I doing? She blinked and shook her head, then slapped her cheeks lightly, trying to push the thought out of her mind. Refocusing, she returned to editing the article, doing her best to capture the event vividly.

She wasn’t one for writing in the simplistic style that came with news reports; she wanted readers to feel like they were part of the story, to relive the moment. But with the strict inverted pyramid format in place, there was only so much she could do. Still, she thought, I’m going to make this feel as alive as I can.

After a while, Isabel started pacing around the room, hitting a bit of a block with her write-up. Her mind drifted back to her interaction with Matteo, replaying the conversation, the strange sense of intrigue she hadn’t been able to shake. What exactly was the proposal he had for me, anyway?

In her effort to avoid him, she’d practically missed out on the opportunity to find out what he had in mind. And that trip to Italy—Italy!—she had tossed it aside, thinking Vivi would never go for it. She could already imagine Vivi’s reaction, the disappointment on her face, but Isabel didn’t care.

She didn’t want anything to do with Matteo Ricci, not if it meant being treated as an object, an accessory in his life.

Eventually, she finished the article and submitted it before she closed her laptop. Exhaustion weighed heavy on her as she leaned forward, resting her head on the desk for a quick nap—if only it would be just a nap.

---

“Wake up, sunshine!” A voice rang out loud, startling Isabel out of her slumber. She jerked upright, her hair disheveled over her face. Blinking a few times, she pushed her hair back, clearing her vision to see Vivi standing in front of her.

“Isabel, my dear reporter extraordinaire!” Vivi greeted, her voice laced with mock enthusiasm.

“Oh, or if it isn’t my almighty cheerleader,” Isabel mumbled back, yawning.

“Yes, yes, yes! It is me! The one and only Vivi Vivian from New York is coming to you to live from the bedroom of the almighty Isabel!” Vivi said, holding a spatula as if it were a microphone.

“Please, stop it,” Isabel groaned, playfully pushing away the spatula.

“Oh, come on! You’re going to be famous for covering that dinner party!” Vivi teased.

“Well, you know it doesn't work like that, right...” Isabel stuttered, her cheeks faintly pink.

“Don’t downplay it! This was your first field job, right?” Vivi pressed, taking a seat on the edge of Isabel’s bed. “And you’re not going to mess it up—I know you’re probably doing your best to stand out in your field.”

Isabel smiled. She appreciated Vivi’s support, even if she was a bit of a dramatic cheerleader.

“You know, it’s kinda funny,” Vivi continued, “that I slept on the couch with Dave while you slept on your study desk.” She shook her head with a smirk.

Isabel chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck. “Well, forgive me, your highness. It would appear that duty called, and, well, duty doesn’t always call in comfortable positions.”

Vivi snorted. “Right, right. Whatever makes you feel better.” She leaned back, glancing toward the door. “Now that you’re awake, we’re having breakfast!”

“Breakfast?” Isabel blinked, glancing at the clock. The realization hit her—it was already 8 a.m. She scrambled up, moving toward the window, drawing the curtains open to let the bright morning light spill into the room.

“See?” Vivi laughed, crossing her arms. “Now that you know what time it is, let’s eat!” She headed out of the room, humming to herself as she made her way to the kitchen.

After following her out, Isabel found Vivi already setting the table. She served scrambled eggs and toast and poured orange juice, arranging the plates with oddly precise enthusiasm.

Isabel raised an eyebrow, noticing an extra plate on the table. “Who’s that for?” she asked, then immediately regretted her question as Dave walked in, a towel draped over his shoulders.

“Morning, Izzy,” Dave greeted with a grin. “How’s it going?”

“Hey, Dave,” she replied. “Oh, you know, just surviving.”

Dave chuckled as he sat down. “Vivi was telling me you had this big assignment yesterday. Sounds exciting!”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it was that big,” Isabel shrugged, taking a sip of her juice.

“Uh, excuse me?” Vivi interjected. “You were at a high-class gala, covering it on your own! That’s a big deal.”

Isabel rolled her eyes. “What’s so big about being at an event filled with overly rich people throwing a party to flaunt their ‘generosity’?”

Dave shrugged, grinning. “It’s not about the event itself, Izzy. You went solo, right? That’s impressive. Besides, you probably met some... interesting people?”

Isabel raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching in a smirk. “If by interesting, you mean an old guy trying to shoot his shot, then sure, it's very interesting.”

Both Dave and Vivi burst into laughter, and Isabel couldn’t help but join in.

“Oh, we should’ve warned him,” Dave joked, nudging Vivi.

Isabel shook her head, rolling her eyes. “Very funny.”

Dave took a bite of his toast. “So... was he really the only interesting person there?”

Isabel hesitated, a strange smile tugging at her lips. “Well, there was the organizer, Mr. Howard Locke. Intelligent guy. And then...” She paused, her mind drifting to Matteo.

“And then?” Vivi’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.

“Well... I guess there was this Italian guy, Matteo Ricci,” she mumbled.

Dave and Vivi exchanged a look. “Matteo Ricci?” Vivi asked, leaning in closer. “That sounds familiar.”

“Yeah, he’s... okay,” Isabel said, trying to sound indifferent.

Vivi’s eyes narrowed, a sly smile forming. “Okay? Isabel, your standards are sky-high. When you say someone’s ‘okay,’ that probably means he’s an angel in disguise.”

Isabel huffed, crossing her arms. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” Vivi’s grin widened. “Or am I just onto something?”

Isabel groaned, finishing her meal and standing up to take her dish to the sink. “You’re imagining things.”

From the kitchen, Vivi’s voice echoed back teasingly, “Oh, I don’t think so. Come on, tell me—what was he like?”

"I'd rather not talk about him," she said, using her fork to play with her eggs.

"You're no fun," Vivi taunted playfully before leaving the dinner table and heading inside.

"But it's a good thing today’s a Monday, and you don’t have to go to work because you already submitted that thing, right?" Vivi pressed, glancing back at her.

"Yeah, I did already," Isabel replied, nodding. "You know I always love to finish whatever I’m doing on time." She finished her food and took the last sip of her orange juice.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I know," Vivi said with a wave of her hand, "but you're still going to have to tell me about this mister anyway. Tell me, what was it like? Do you have a photo?"

"Oh, yes, I do have a photo," Isabel admitted, glancing down at her phone.

"You have a photo?" Vivi's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Easy," she teased, leaning closer.

"What?" Isabel chuckled. "You make it sound like I got a bomb."

"Well, it’s almost the exact same thing. Rarely do you come back with a photo," Vivi replied with a smirk.

"Oh, come on, Vivi," Dave interjected from across the table. "You're making her sound like she’s extraterrestrial."

"Yep, what he said," Isabel added, giving Dave a thumbs-up and laughing.

Vivi rolled her eyes, feigning playful disdain at the 'betrayal.' "You're siding with her?"

Dave just shrugged, grabbing his toast and juice. He left the dining table, smiling as he blew an air kiss on Vivi’s way.

"I’m not siding with anyone," he called back, his voice fading as he disappeared down the hall.

Isabel chuckled and turned back to Vivi. "Well," she continued, "I'll send you a picture. Basically, he’s this rich Italian guy who got some kind of award for the most donations or something."

Vivi’s eyes widened. "Really? Did you talk to him?" she asked, her voice filled with curiosity.

"Well, more like he came to talk to me," Isabel replied, leaning back in her chair.

"He came to talk to you?" Vivi’s tone was filled with intrigue, hanging on every word.

"Would you let me finish?" Isabel sighed.

"Okay, no problem," Vivi replied, waving her hand and leaning in eagerly.

"Well," Isabel continued, “basically, um, he spoke—we kind of spoke—and then he said he wanted me to come to Italy."

"Whoa!" Vivi gasped, eyes wide with excitement. "I can’t believe it."

"A friend is going to be going to Italy!" she added, clapping her hands.

Isabel shook her head. "Whoa, hold on. I said no."

That brought Vivi back to reality, and her excitement evaporated. "What do you mean, you said no?" she asked, her brow furrowed.

"I mean, I said no," Isabel replied firmly. "No. Is there any other way to say it? I'm not even sure what I said was Spanish."

Isabel stood up and started walking toward her room, hoping to escape further questioning.

But Vivi followed, pressing on. "Come on, you can’t tell me you really said no! A rich Italian guy invites you to Italy, and you say no?"

Isabel turned, looking at her friend with a hint of amusement. "What about my job?" she asked, quivering an eyebrow.

"Forget your job!" Vivi shot back, eyes wide with disbelief.

Isabel’s eyes flickered with surprise at her friend’s reaction. "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously! I’m pretty sure he could have dealt with that anyway," Vivi said, waving her hand as if it was obvious.

"Yeah," Isabel muttered, "he did offer to deal with it."

"So, what is your problem?" Vivi demanded, hands on her hips.

"Well, the thing is, I just can’t," Isabel murmured. She paused, collecting her thoughts. "He seems rather… arrogant and proud."

Vivi let out a chuckle. "Oh, well, that’s kind of rich for you to say," she teased.

Isabel’s eyes narrowed playfully. "Really now?"

Vivi laughed and held up her hands. "Sorry! But it’s the truth. I mean, I was kind of warned about him."

Isabel raised an eyebrow. "Warned?"

"By the organizer of the thing. Of the event." Vivi paused, choosing her words carefully. "They told me something about being careful with him because he always has his way."

Isabel rolled her eyes. "And I love to be the first to prove that negative."

"Well, good luck with that." Vivi glanced at the clock. "I kind of got some things to run. Unlike you, I don’t work remotely. So I’m headed over to the store." She grabbed her bag and shot Isabel a grin. "I’ll catch you later, okay?"

"All right," Isabel replied, giving her friend a little wave as Vivi left, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Isabel sighed, the morning’s conversation still playing in her mind. She took a moment to tidy up before heading to her bedroom. Soon, she was in the bathroom, turning the shower on and stepping in, letting the warm water wash over her. For a few peaceful moments, the thoughts of Italy and the mysterious man faded away.

After a long, relaxing shower, she wrapped a towel around herself and began drying her hair. Just as she started to feel fully awake, her phone buzzed faintly from the bedside table.

What could this be? she wondered, stepping toward the buzzing device. She picked it up, glancing at the notification on the screen.

It was a message from her boss.