The car pulled up to the Seta by Antonio Guida, and we were led through the sleek, turquoise-accented halls of the hotel to Seta by Antonio Guida. Eric had reserved a private section, a secluded nook that felt worlds away from the bustling streets of Milan. The lighting was low, the air filled with the scent of white truffles and aged wood. We were immediately ushered to our table by a waiter who moved like a ghost, pouring a deep, dark wine into our glasses before vanishing.We ordered a full-course meal, but I could barely focus on the food. Eric, on the other hand, seemed to be drinking more than usual. By the time the main course was cleared, he had finished six or seven glasses of wine. I was still nursing my first. He looked relaxed, his shoulders finally dropping from their usual rigid posture, but his eyes were slightly glazed—a sign he was a little buzzed."Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked, his voice low and raspy."Yes, the food was delicious," I answered, nodding polite
Last Updated : 2026-02-05 Read more