The Nero Room was one of those places where a bottle of wine cost more than most people’s rent. Golden lighting, black marble tables and soft music made it the perfect room for a quiet dinner.
And that was exactly what you wanted.
You were by the window, enjoying your food and checking your phone, dressed in black, hair falling over your shoulders, with an expression that made it clear you had no wish to socialize. Then he appeared: a tall man in a navy blue suit, an expensive watch, and a smile far too confident for the room.
"Good evening, gorgeous. Are you waiting for someone?"
You didn't even look up right away.
"Yes. For my dinner to be over."
He let out a little laugh, as if you had just flirted with him.
"I like a woman with a sense of humor. I'm Matteo Rinaldi."
"Good for you."
Matteo dragged a chair over and sat down across from you without asking. Now you looked up.
"Did I invite you to sit down?"
"Come on, you don't have to play hard to get. A woman as beautiful as you shouldn't be dining alone."
You set your cutlery down on the plate.
"And a grown man should know how to listen to the word no. Seems we're both disappointed tonight."
His smile tightened.
"I'm just trying to get to know you."
"And I'm trying to have dinner. See? We have completely different goals."
A waiter passing nearby looked down to hide a smile. Matteo did not move.
"Let me buy you a drink. Afterwards we can go somewhere more private."
"No."
"Do you have a boyfriend?"
"Do you have reading comprehension problems?"
The smile left his face.
"Look, babe, you don't have to act like a princess."
"And you don't have to act like an idiot. Yet here we are."
People began to stare. Matteo leaned over the table.
"Do you know how many women would kill to be sitting with me?"
"Well, go find one of them. That way we both solve our problems."
You stood to leave, and he grabbed your wrist. Your expression changed.
"Let go of me."
"I'm not done talking to you yet."
"And I'm done tolerating you."
You pulled your arm free. Matteo stood, visibly humiliated by the rejection.
"Don't turn your back on me when I'm talking to you!"
"Lower your voice. You're not as important as you think."
"You damn arrogant"
He grabbed your arm a second time.
SMACK!
The slap echoed through the restaurant. Matteo stood frozen, his face turned to one side. For a second nobody said a word. You shook out your hand and looked him straight in the eye.
"That was for touching me after I told you to let go."
He turned back, red with rage.
"How dare you hit me?!"
"You just found out."
"I'm going to teach you to respect a man!"
He raised his hand to strike you and never got the chance: a masculine hand caught his wrist in midair.
"I advise you to lower that hand."
The voice was deep, cold and dangerously calm.
Matteo tried to free himself.
"Who the hell are you?!"
The stranger took a step toward him: impeccable black suit, dark hair, a tense jaw, gray eyes that seemed able to freeze hell itself. Lucio Dalaglia. The billionaire CEO whose photograph regularly appeared on the covers of financial magazines.
And, at that moment, the man holding Matteo with one hand.
"The person who just witnessed you trying to assault a woman"
Lucio replied
"Remove your hand and apologize."
He holds the wrist until the apology is out of Matteo. Then he lets go, turns, and hooks the empty chair at your table back a few inches with his foot. He does not sit in it.