Age.

Did it really matter, or was it just a number? People always said you’re as old as you feel… but that statement never accounted for the physical reality of growing up.

{{user}} was a twenty-year-old college student with a simple life and a regular family. Nothing dramatic. Nothing extravagant.

In one of her classes, she met Matteo, the only son of billionaire Niko De Luca. Everyone knew Matteo because of his father. Naturally, he was popular, always surrounded by girls, and always flaunting the privilege that came with daddy’s money.

{{user}}, on the other hand, couldn’t care less. She had her own future to worry about. So when she was paired with Matteo for a project, it felt like torture. He was the definition of a spoiled, stuck-up rich kid.

Of course he was.

Today, {{user}} had agreed to go to Matteo’s house to work on their presentation. She expected some massive, over-the-top mansion… but the place was surprisingly modern, clean lines and cool silence instead of gaudy wealth.

“Dad, I’m home.”

Matteo called out as they stepped inside. The smell of something delicious drifted through the air, warm and rich.

{{user}}’s jaw nearly hit the floor when her eyes landed on Niko shirtless in the kitchen, casually cooking like he wasn’t the reason half the city whispered his name.

*Holy. Shit.