CHAPTER 9

MATTEO'S POV

Today was one of those days when the craving hit me—an Italian meal to remember my mother by.

My parents were Italians, and my mother’s cooking had been unmatched. Ever since her death, no one had been able to recreate the taste of her dishes. Not even close. But then this little Italian restaurant opened up, and for the first time, I found something that reminded me of her food. It wasn’t quite the same, of course—it lacked the warmth of her love, the special touch only she had—but it was enough. Enough to bring back the memories, enough to satisfy that aching hole in my chest.

And yet, as I walked into the restaurant, my thoughts of my mother were swiftly replaced by something—or rather, someone—else.

Sophia.

My beautiful Sophia.

A smile crept onto my lips as I saw her sitting down at a table, her parents settling in beside her. I hadn’t planned to watch her today, but I supposed the universe had other ideas. It was fate. That was the only way to explain it.

What were the chances that I would come here today, out of all days, and she would be here too?

I took my time, choosing my table carefully. There was one available right behind them. Perfect. Close enough to watch her, to listen to her voice, to soak in every movement she made.

As I sat down, I let my eyes linger on her, drinking her in. God, she was beautiful. Her dark, wavy hair cascaded down her shoulders, her lips moved effortlessly as she spoke, and her laughter—oh, that laughter—was like music.

A familiar sensation stirred inside me, and I clenched my jaw.

Damn it.

I had forgotten just how much she affected me. Just looking at her was enough to make my body react in ways I could barely control.

I shifted slightly in my seat, inhaling slowly. I needed to keep myself composed. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

I listened as her mother chatted animatedly, trying to set her up with a waiter. A smirk pulled at my lips. Of course, her mother would do something like that. But what mattered was that Sophia didn’t agree.

Good girl.

If she had, I wouldn’t have had a choice. I would’ve had to deal with him. No man was allowed to touch what was mine.

She was mine.

Only mine.

And I wasn’t going to let anyone take her away from me.

“Waiter,” I called out, keeping my voice even, controlled.

A young man—Cameroon, according to his name tag—approached with a polite smile. “The usual?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

He left, and I returned my gaze to Sophia.

Then, something incredible happened.

She looked at me.

A thrill ran through me as our eyes almost met. I quickly lowered my gaze to my food, not wanting to startle her. Not yet.

But she had felt me.

Even if she didn’t understand why, she had sensed my presence.

She knew something was off.

The memory of that night flashed through my mind. She had never seen my face, not clearly. That was the only reason she wasn’t running right now. But her body remembered. The way she stiffened, the way her posture changed, told me everything I needed to know.

She felt it.

She knew she was being watched.

I fought back a grin, enjoying the way she tried to compose herself, the way she subtly glanced over her shoulder. It was adorable, how she thought she could control her fear, how she convinced herself she was just being paranoid.

My food arrived, and I ate slowly, savoring both the meal and the sight of her.

She was growing more restless by the second.

Her shoulders were tight, her fingers fiddled absentmindedly with the edge of her napkin. She was trying to act normal, but her body betrayed her.

She felt me.

I leaned back in my chair, lazily watching her, knowing she would feel it.

And I was right.

She turned again.

And this time, our eyes met.

For the briefest moment, she froze. Her breath hitched, her fingers stilled.

I could see it in her eyes.

The fear.

The recognition.

She didn’t know who I was—not fully—but she knew something was wrong.

I smirked slightly, not enough for her parents to notice, just enough for her to feel it.

Her lips parted, as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out.

I liked this.

I liked how she was unraveling, how her body was responding to me even when she didn’t understand why.

I had missed this.

Last night, I had watched her from afar, standing behind the trees, waiting. She had felt me then, too. I saw her staring out her window, searching for something she didn’t quite understand.

She thought she was making sure I wasn’t there.

But deep down, I knew the truth.

She had missed me.

Even if she didn’t realize it yet.

She would, in time.

I just had to be patient.

The game was only beginning.

And I always won.

I paid my bill and stood up, adjusting my jacket. As much as I wanted to stay and watch her longer, I knew I had to be careful. Her parents were already starting to pick up on her odd behavior, even if they hadn’t realized what was causing it yet. If I lingered too long, they might begin to notice the way she kept glancing over her shoulder, the way her hands trembled slightly when she picked up her fork.

I smirked to myself as I walked toward the exit. She felt me. She knew, deep down, that someone was watching her. That someone was me.

The fear in her eyes had been intoxicating. The way her body tensed, the way she struggled to keep her composure in front of her parents—it was fascinating to watch. She was so aware of me, yet she had no idea what was coming.

But soon, very soon, she would.

No more hiding in the shadows.

No more watching from a distance.

I was done waiting.

For too long, I had let her move freely, thinking she was safe. Let her believe that locking her doors, changing the locks, checking behind trees at night would keep her protected.

She was wrong.

She had always been mine.

And soon, she would know it too.

I pushed open the restaurant door, stepping out into the cool night air. I inhaled deeply, running a hand through my hair as excitement coursed through my veins.

This wasn’t just some fleeting obsession.

No, this was fate.

And fate had finally decided it was time.

I could already picture it—her inside a room with me, no way out, nowhere to run. Just the two of us, finally together.

She would struggle at first. Of course, she would. She was stubborn, feisty. It was one of the things I loved most about her.

But she would learn.

I wasn’t cruel. No, not at all.

I would take my time. I would show her that she belonged to me, that she had always belonged to me.

She just didn’t know it yet.

But I would make her understand.

And when she finally did, when her body stopped fighting and started responding to me the way it was meant to—God, it would be perfect.

I gripped my jacket tightly, my pulse quickening at the thought.

The wait was almost over.

Very soon, she would be mine in every way possible.

And I…

I would finally be inside her.

Where I had always meant to be.

Where she needed me to be.

She just didn’t know it yet.

But she would.

She would.