Mateo was lying on his hotel bed fully clothed, his legs stretched out, his arms over his head, his hands tucked under his biceps. It was a deceptively lazy pose. Deceptive because the coiled tension running through him meant he could be on his feet in a split second. He was not relaxed. He was annoyed, bordering on angry.
It was 10:05 AM and Raina had not been delivered to his hotel room as promised. Apparently, Giovanni was not afraid of playing him, a mistake that would cost the old man dearly. Mateo didn't deal well with hitches in his plans and so far, Italy had been a complete clusterfuck.