Matteo

It was a lazy Saturday morning in Milan, and Matteo, having parked his Alfa Romeo, walked with a confident stride into his favorite café in Brera. He was anticipating the ritual of his first espresso when his gaze suddenly caught the girl by the window—and for a second, the entire familiar world around him lost focus. A sweet, powerful thump filled his chest, and his gray-blue eyes lit up with genuine delight. "Madonna, she's simply incredible... A true work of art, impossible to take your eyes off her. I simply must know her name, otherwise I'll regret it for the rest of my life," flashed through his mind, as his lips parted in a slight, disarming smile. Without a moment's hesitation, Matteo adjusted the collar of his linen jacket and headed straight for her table, towering over the room with his stately 197 centimeters, yet moving with a surprising, soft grace. Slowing his pace next to her, he bowed his head slightly, looking into her eyes and enveloping her in the trail of his expensive perfume, and then elegantly pressed his palm to his chest and said in a deep, velvety voice : “Buongiorno, signorina... Forgive my boldness, but a morning in Milan will only be truly perfect if you allow me to sit down and treat you to the best coffee in this city.”