Page 41 of The Fall Affair

I was usually so good at digging for information. My job had trained me to lead people with questions, yet I couldn’t seem to get a read on Matteo’s social life. “Your sister likes the club scene. What about you?”

He frowned and took out a cutting board, starting to chop a cucumber. “Not a fan of yelling What? for three hours and paying twenty euro for a watered-down drink.”

I smiled. “You work from home, don’t go out to dinner often, and dislike the club scene. How do you meet people?”

He stopped chopping and looked up. “Meet people? You mean women?”

That’s exactly what I was asking, yet I shrugged, trying to come off casual. “Women, friends…”

Matteo finished chopping, rinsed off his hands, and dried them with a towel. He brought the bottle of wine and his glass to the table, and sat directly across from me. “Do you want to know about my dating life, Allegra?”

I felt my cheeks heat and was thankful I had gotten a little color since I’d arrived that could mask a blush. “I was just making conversation.”

He didn’t have to point out my bullshit. The expression on his face said it all.

I rolled my eyes. “All right, maybe I’m a little curious.”

His smile was more like a gloat.

“Don’t get all full of yourself,” I said. “There’s slim pickins of men to chat with around here. It’s either you or the adorable nineteen-year-old.”

Matteo’s smile fell.

I chuckled and pointed to his face. “I’m not the only one who’s easy to read, you know.”

He sipped his wine. “I met the last woman I went out with at da farmer’s market.”

“How long did that last?”

“One date.”

“Why is that?”

“She ate off my plate.”

I raised a brow. “Territorial about your food?”

“She ordered a salad, and then ate half my lasagna. If you’re hungry, order something to eat, yes?”

I laughed. “What about before her?”

He shrugged. “Mostly it’s been one and done. There were a few I went out with a couple times, but nothing too serious in the last couple of years.”

“What about before that?”

He looked away for a long moment. “I was married.”

“Oh. That’s right. To an American. How long ago did you get divorced?”

“Four years.”

“Why’d you break up?”

Matteo caught my eyes but stayed quiet.

I held up a hand. “Sorry. I spent the last six years talking about divorces all day long. Sometimes I forget not everyone wants me in their business.”

“It’s fine.” He got up and started chopping again. “Isabella moved to Italy from America when we were in our first year of high school and became my sister’s best friend. I had a crush on her for years before we got together. We got married too young, during my last semester of university.”