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Okay, he was a smaller dick last night than when we first met, but that was only because I didn’t have to spend more than a minute talking to him. Anyway, why was I even thinking about him? I was here to see Edward.

‘Buongiorno, Samantha,’ Romeo nodded in acknowledgement.

‘Morning,’ I said flatly.

‘Edward is already here. Come. I will take you.’ He gestured at me to follow.

As he walked ahead, I attempted not to look at his arse and failed miserably yet again. He might be an arrogant fucker but his arse looked damn good in those shorts.

I was sure that Edward’s arse looked good in shorts too. Edward, y’know, the guy who was my match.

Now that I thought about it, I didn’t even look at his arse yesterday and I walked behind him twice. But that was good. My match wasn’t here to be ogled. Romeo wasn’t either. Which was why I was going to stop perving and focus on falling in love with my match.

When we got to the table, Edward was pushing his knife and fork together on his empty plate.

‘Morning!’ I smiled.

‘A Cuisine Champion will arrive shortly,’ Romeo said, before leaving.

‘Hi.’ Edward looked up and gave me a tight smile.

‘I see you’ve finished, or was that just the first round?’ I laughed.

‘First round?’ Edward frowned. ‘No. That’s the trouble with these all-inclusive places. They encourage overeating. Food is for fuel. We only need a certain amount of calories to function, the more we eat, the harder we have to work to burn off the excess. It’s completely inefficient.’

‘Haha!’ I laughed, thinking he was joking, then clamped my jaw shut when I realised he was being serious.

Hmmm. This was tricky because I disagreed with almost everything he’d said.

‘Course we need food to survive, obvs, but food’s also for enjoyment, right? Everyone knows it’s important not to binge on junk every day, but what’s the point of life if you can’t treat yourself to a bit of cake once in a while?’ I said.

And,hello? We were in Italy. The land of pasta and pizza. Pretty sure it was illegal to come here and not indulge in those dishes.

If I told Stella that I hadn’t taken full advantage, she’d disown me.

‘A “bit of cake” turns into two, then before you know it, you’re overweight. It’s a slippery slope.’

‘We’re talking about cake, not cocaine, right?’ I laughed again, thinking he couldn’t be serious. His face turned to stone. Okay, so we didn’t agree on cake, but it didn’t matter. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t a big deal. ‘Anyway, there’s a gym here and the sea, so there’s no shortage of ways to exercise.’

‘I was at the gym at six. What did you do this morning?’

‘Er…’ My face crumpled. ‘I went for a walk on the beach.’

Why the hell did I lie?

I was tucked up in bed, probably snoring. That was what people did on holiday. I thought I did pretty well waking up at eight considering our briefing wasn’t until ten.

‘It’s some form of cardio, I suppose,’ he huffed. ‘After the pasta you ate, you’ll need to domuchmore than that. If you like, I can put together a workout regime and some tips on the food and portion sizes you should be eating.’

Wait, what?Was he seriously suggesting I follow a diet on holiday?

No chance.

‘I’m good. I’ve been choosing my own food for a while now and it’s worked out fine,’ I shot back.

‘Sorry to interrupt.’ A waitress stood by our table. ‘May I take your order?’

‘Yes, thank you. I’ll have some OJ and an omelette. Do you have any pastries?’