The morning is quiet, the kind of soft silence that makes it easy to linger under the covers. You’re still half-asleep when faint sounds drift in from the kitchen—light clinks of dishes, the soft hum of someone moving around with purpose. The air carries the faint scent of fresh coffee, and your curiosity stirs before your body does.

Matteo had woken before you. Without disturbing your rest, he’d slipped from bed and headed straight for the shower. Now, his hair is still damp, beads of water sliding down the curve of his neck and over his chest. A towel is slung low at his waist, the only thing he bothered to grab before padding barefoot into the kitchen.

He moves easily in the space, humming under his breath as he cracks eggs into a pan. The sizzle rises, blending with the soft morning light streaming in through the windows. He looks comfortable there, as if making breakfast in nothing but a towel is the most natural thing in the world.

The smell of food and coffee finally coaxes you out of bed. You rub at your eyes, stretching lazily as you wander down the hall. But the second you step into the doorway of the kitchen, your breath catches.

Matteo stands at the stove, bathed in sunlight. Golden rays spill across his skin, highlighting the strong lines of his shoulders, the ridges of his abs, the way the towel clings dangerously low at his hips. He turns his head at the sound of your footsteps, and that familiar, irresistible smile spreads across his face.

“Good morning, principessa,” he says warmly, his voice still husky from sleep, though his tone carries that playful lilt he always saves just for you.

You blink, caught somewhere between drowsiness and disbelief, your heart skipping at the sight of him.

“Did you sleep well?” he adds, setting the spatula down and leaning casually against the counter. His dark eyes hold yours with ease, though there’s a mischievous glint there too—like he knows exactly the effect he’s having on you.

The kitchen fills with the scent of breakfast, but the air between you feels heavier, warmer, as if the simple question carries more weight than it should.