Chapter 35

By the time Dante arrived at the bar with Mateo, the sky was bleeding a deep, fluid red. Sunset drenched the ancient city, illuminating the architectural bones of a distant past. The sight alone was enough to stir something heavy in his chest.

As Dante navigated the bustling crowd, every one of his senses screamed that he was somewhere utterly foreign. He was completely alone. He had a young stranger he had met abroad for company, but that did not make the boy a true companion.

Who is Rhys seeing this view with right now?

If Dante had never suggested they break up, then right about now—according to his meticulously planned itinerary for their first day—he and Rhys would have finished a couple’s cooking class. They would have toured the Colosseum, the Roman Forum, and the Palatine Hill side by side. Then, as twilight fell, they would have crossed the bridge to the small island rising from the middle of the Tiber River to dine at the restaurant Dante had reserved months ago.

He had chosen a rustic place famous for its homemade meatballs and tiramisu. But the plan to go alone, at the very least, had fallen apart alongside the loss of his phone. Not that he was in the mood for a culinary excursion anyway. The moment he let his mind drift, his conversation with Rhys from that morning looped relentlessly through his head. In this state, he doubted he could enjoy paradise itself.

“Just now! That was an absolutely miserable face!” Mateo returned at exactly the right moment, cold beer in hand, and set the pint glasses down on the table with a hearty, resonant thunk. “A face like that is strictly forbidden on a beautiful day like this, Dantino. The killer beer is here, so drink and forget!”

Dante glanced toward a group of men at a nearby table and asked quietly, “Isn’t there someone over there you like? You don’t have to stay here with me for no reason.”

Since Dante had paid, Mateo had insisted on fetching the drinks himself, only to stop in front of those men on the way back to flirt for quite a while. Dante had watched from afar, wondering when on earth the boy would return. Once he saw the bright, unyielding smile blooming on Mateo’s face, he had understood the delay perfectly.

“Don’t worry about that. We’re leaving together later,” Mateo said with a dismissive wave. “The sun has only just set, and the night is long. Besides, Rome is even more beautiful after dark! You should enjoy the night too, Dante!”

Mateo was even more energetic than before. He hadn’t seemed quite this lively when they first left the hotel, but the moment he escaped his workplace, he became an entirely different person. So, people really do grow brighter the farther they get from their jobs, Dante reflected. Amused by a universal truth that seemed to hold true no matter where he went in the world, Dante lifted his beer.

“Well, then… cin cin.”

When Dante tilted his glass, Mateo clinked his own against it, beaming.

“Cin cin! Dante, just now you really sounded like a local.”

“My parents are Italian, actually,” Dante admitted. “Which makes me Italian too, more or less.”

“I knew it from your name! Then stop using American English and speak Italian with us!”

“You can say that all you like, but I wouldn’t understand a word. My blood’s Italian, that’s all. I don’t actually know the language.”

After trading that meaningless exchange, they drank. The crisp carbonation filled Dante’s mouth, sharp and biting against his throat. The cool, refreshing rush that followed with every swallow drew a deep, involuntary sigh from him. Fresh from the tap, the draft beer was every bit as excellent as Mateo had promised. Alcohol after an exhausting day possessed a power all its own—one capable of making him feel at least fractionally human again.

“How is it? Amazing, right?” Mateo asked, propping his chin on his hand as he watched Dante with immense satisfaction.

Dante set down the pint glass, having nearly emptied it in a single go. “It was exactly what I needed.”

“It’ll be perfect once the fried artichokes come out! Isn’t any place with cold beer and good food basically heaven?”

He wasn’t wrong. Dante felt a small, almost forgotten pleasure return to him—the kind of simple joy adulthood quietly erases—and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

Seeing it, Mateo let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Dante, you really are handsome. You have this tragic beauty when you look depressed, but handsome men are definitely meant to smile. Are you sure you don’t want to try an Omega after all?”

Dante stared at him. No, had he not given up? Had he not just said, in so many words, that he had already found someone to sleep with later?

He could only admire Mateo’s boundless positivity and the effortless way he flirted despite already being rejected. Apparently, people born in this country—particularly the men—had a certain amount of unshakeable confidence running through their veins.

“Sorry,” Dante said dryly, “but I have zero experience dealing with Omegas.”

“Really?” Mateo sounded as though he could hardly believe his ears. “Men who date men usually prefer Omegas quite a lot, even if they’re Betas themselves. Not even once?”

Dante had one or two Alpha friends he was close with back home, but almost no Omegas in his circle, so this was the first he had heard of such a preference. “Why do they prefer Omegas?”

Mateo narrowed his eyes, trying to gauge Dante’s true motives. When Dante’s expression remained perfectly blank, Mateo’s mouth slowly curved into a sly smile. Leaning forward, he whispered right in front of Dante’s face, “Do you want to know?”

His voice had turned strangely secretive, heavy with implication. Dante immediately moved his chair back, matching the exact distance Mateo had closed.

“I’ll say it again. I have no intention of sleeping with you.”

Mateo pushed his lips into a playful pout, but he didn’t retreat. Still hovering close, he began explaining, “When Omegas get aroused, we get wet in the back, too. Lots of people think that’s incredibly sexy. And there are more cute boys like me among Omegas than there are among Alphas or Betas. You know Omegas tend to be smaller than regular men on average, right? Bone structure, body type, that kind of thing.”

Because none of this had anything to do with him, Dante drank his beer in silence and listened. When Mateo boldly called himself cute, Dante gave a reluctant nod. The boy was certainly better-looking than average, but he fell drastically short of Dante’s personal standards. Especially since his standards for men were entirely calibrated around Rhys. Through Dante’s eyes, Mateo was merely a perfectly decent-looking stranger.

Besides, Dante was someone who had never had an inherent interest in men to begin with, so a small build that could fit neatly into his arms, a lean body, or a cute face did absolutely nothing for him. Nor had he ever been drawn to muscular or overtly masculine appearances.

Put that way, it was honestly a little astonishing that he had ended up dating Rhys at all. No. That wasn’t it. Rhys was someone anyone could fall in love with, regardless of gender. The fact that Dante had fallen for him couldn’t be helped. It was like a natural phenomenon—unavoidable and consuming.

“I see. I didn’t know,” Dante murmured. At some point, he had naturally begun letting Mateo’s words flow in one ear and out the other, answering the final comment without much thought.

The moment Mateo heard him admit his ignorance, he exclaimed with exaggerated awe, “You really didn’t know? Hearing you say that does make you seem like a real Beta.”

“I told you. I’m a perfect Beta.”

“What a waste,” Mateo sighed, shaking his head. “You look like a perfect Alpha.”

The instant Mateo’s Alpha talk—which was starting to sound dangerously close to brainwashing—came to an end, a tattooed arm reached into the middle of the table and set down a steaming plate. Mateo looked up at the sudden arrival and cried out in delight.

“Santino! You weren’t around when I looked for you earlier. Where did you go?”

“I was changing shifts,” the man replied smoothly. “Serving this is my last job for the day.”

The man who had appeared without warning seemed to be the friend Mateo had mentioned. Standing beside the table, he looked between the two of them before fixing a pair of curious, assessing eyes on Dante. Dante’s appetite had returned with a vengeance while drinking his beer, and now that food sat directly before him, he wanted to eat immediately. Still, for the sake of basic manners, he looked up to acknowledge the man.

An ordinary man. Human. Male. Evaluation complete.

He looked to be around Mateo’s age, still marked by a raw sort of youth, and he seemed fairly tall—perhaps matching Dante’s own height. His hair was a muddy, noncommittal blond.

Dante tried to examine him more closely, but honestly, the man’s face failed to register. His features were arranged in all the proper places, with nothing particularly protruding or offensive, so he might have been considered decent-looking by standard measures. But nothing about him reached Dante. If anything, the food on the table looked far more handsome.

Is that fried artichoke? Fascinating. I’ve had fried pumpkin and eggplant, but never anything like that.

Forcing his gaze away from the fried artichokes Mateo had been singing praises about, as well as the crisp crostini served alongside them, Dante offered the man a polite smile. “Hello.”

“Santino, this is Dante!” Mateo introduced enthusiastically. “He just became my friend today. Dantino, this is my friend. For reference, Santino is an Alpha who recently became single again—just like you.”

Mateo provided a piece of information Dante hadn’t been even slightly curious about, capping it off with a sharp wink. Dante nodded, offering the barest simulation of attention.

“Oh dear. Santino, was it? I’m sure you’ll meet someone you like again soon. It’s normal to date around when you’re young.”

Having completed the minimum required social interaction, Dante hurriedly picked up his fork. Once he registered his own hunger, it turned savage, and he could barely endure it any longer. His body, large-framed and accustomed to frequent, rigorous exercise, was screaming after missing the three heavy meals it normally demanded without fail. Putting all his willpower into not devouring the food like an animal, Dante began to eat.

The fried artichokes were far tastier than he had anticipated. The flour-dusted exterior had been fried to a crisp, golden-brown perfection, while the inside remained so incredibly soft it was almost unbelievable. He had expected the texture to taste strange, but it was flawless.

Dante quickly finished three pieces before he barely regained his senses. Leaving Mateo’s share untouched, he reached for the other plate.