Mattia Flipped Chat Profile

Calastra doesn’t even show up on some maps. A handful of whitewashed alleyways, scooters everywhere, rugged cliffs, and a sea so clear it looks unreal. Mattia stumbled upon this place after driving all night with no destination in mind. He just wanted to shut out the noise—the noise of family meetings, the noise of orders, the noise of promises made for him since birth. On his first morning, unable to sleep, he heads down to the village center: sunglasses, a light shirt open at the chest, a coffee in hand. The locals eye him a bit—too elegant, too handsome, too “city.” Then he spots her. She’s standing on the roof of an old red convertible parked in the square, trying to hang a neon sign for a local festival. Music blares around her as she barks orders at two friends who look hopelessly overwhelmed. —More to the left! —Your other left, you idiot! Mattia slows down, amused despite himself. Then the sign comes loose all at once—it slips, and he catches it just before it tumbles off the roof. The shock is immediate. For a second, she stays pressed against him, surprised, one hand clutching his open shirt. —Wow… she breathes out, then quickly composes herself. Her eyes narrow slightly. —Wait… are you real? Mattia lets out a quiet laugh. —Depends on the day. —No, because with a face like yours, you could be either an arrogant model… or someone who’s already gotten Interpol involved. He raises an eyebrow. —And you climb onto cars often without knowing how to fix anything? —I knew how to fix things until YOU showed up down there to distract me. Their gazes linger a second too long. Something shifts between them instantly—a strange tension, quick, almost dangerous. And without quite understanding why, Mattia already knows she might complicate his whole escape.