134

134
Gianna’s POV
The day had been exhausting. Every meeting had been a test of patience and diplomacy, and the last client of the evening had pushed my composure to the brink with his endless demands and passive-aggressive remarks. By the time Matteo and I returned to the hotel, all I wanted was silence and a good glass of wine.
I set my bag down on the desk with a heavy sigh, kicking off my heels. My toes throbbed in relief as I sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing the back of my neck. Matteo, as usual, looked infuriatingly unfazed by the day. He leaned casually against the doorway, his tie slightly loosened but still in place, and his hair somehow managing to look better disheveled than it did neatly styled.
“Tough crowd,” he said, his tone light but not mocking.
“That’s one way to put it,” I replied, not looking up.
He walked further into the room, his footsteps quiet on the carpet. “You’ve been carrying that tension all day. When’s the last time you had a real break?”
I gave him a pointed look. “Do you see a spa day penciled into our itinerary?”
He grinned. “No, but we’ve got a free evening now. Let’s have dinner.”
I shook my head. “I’m not really in the mood.”
“Come on,” he coaxed. “You’ve got to eat anyway, and room service isn’t going to make you feel better. We’ll go somewhere low-key, decompress a little.”
I hesitated, my instinct to decline warring with the nagging realization that he was right. The last thing I wanted to do was sit across from another person and make conversation, but the thought of eating alone in the room while replaying the day’s failures wasn’t exactly appealing either.
“Fine,” I said at last, standing up. “But nothing fancy. And I’m not staying out late.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a mock salute.
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at my lips.
The restaurant Matteo chose was a small Italian bistro a few blocks from the hotel. It was warm and inviting, with dim lighting, red-checkered tablecloths, and the smell of garlic and fresh bread wafting through the air. It wasn’t what I would have picked, but I had to admit it was charming.
“This place is a family favorite,” Matteo said as we slid into a booth near the back. “Emilia and I used to come here all the time when we were kids. We lived here in Cleveland for two years.”
“Emilia?” I asked, glancing at the menu.
“My sister,” he explained. “You’d like her. She’s tough, like you.”
I snorted. “I doubt she’s anything like me.”
“She’s got her own style, sure, but she’s resilient. Doesn’t back down from a challenge, even when the odds are stacked against her.” His tone was warm, and there was a flicker of pride in his eyes as he spoke about her.
I set the menu down, curious despite myself. “What does she do?”
“Can’t say. NDA shit,” he gave me a pained smile. “But she helped me to where I am today.”
I nodded, impressed. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot of respect for her.”
“I do,” he admitted. “She’s always been the strong one, even when things got rough. Our family wasn’t exactly smooth sailing ever since mom and dad died.”
There was a pause as he glanced at the table, and I got the sense he was deciding how much to share.
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” I said softly.
He looked up, surprised by the gentleness in my tone. “It’s not that. I just… don’t talk about it much. I had kidney failure for about six months and we only just did the surgery five months ago. She sold her shop and hustled around to foot the bill.”
“That’s a lot of responsibility,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended. It was shocking. I never knew that he had a sickness as critical as that. It was supposed to be in his file…I made a mental note to check it when we get back to New York.
“Yeah,” he said with a faint smile. “But she handled it no matter what. Makes you wonder where she gets the energy.”
I smiled faintly. “Maybe from the same place you do.”
He chuckled. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I’m just trying to keep up.”
The waiter arrived then, taking our orders and briefly interrupting the conversation. I leaned back in my seat as Matteo folded his menu and handed it off, studying him for a moment. He was more layered than I’d initially given him credit for.
“What about you?” he asked once the waiter left.
“What about me?”
“You’ve got this whole iron-willed businesswoman thing going on, but I’m guessing there’s more to the story. What drives you?”
I hesitated, instinctively wanting to deflect. But his expression was open, genuinely curious, and for reasons I couldn’t quite pinpoint, I found myself answering honestly.
“My parents,” I said at last. “They built everything I’m running now. It wasn’t handed to them-they worked for it. Sacrificed for it. And they trusted me to carry it forward.”
“That’s a lot of weight to carry,” he said, his voice thoughtful.
“It is,” I admitted. “But it’s not just about the company. It’s about their legacy. I can’t let it fall apart-not after everything they did to build it.”
“Do you ever feel like it’s too much?” he asked, his gaze steady.
I laughed softly, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “All the time. But that’s the price of responsibility, isn’t it? You don’t get to clock out just because it’s hard.”
He nodded slowly, his respect for me evident in his expression. “Still, it sounds lonely.”
I looked away, caught off guard by the truth in his words. “Loneliness is a luxury I don’t have time for.”
“Gianna,” he said, his tone gentler than I expected. “You don’t have to do everything on your own. You’ve got people who want to help-you just have to let them.”
I met his gaze, unsure how to respond. There was something disarming about him, something that made me feel seen in a way I wasn’t used to.
Before I could say anything, the waiter returned with our food, breaking the moment.
As the evening wore on, the conversation shifted to lighter topics. Matteo told me stories about growing up with Emilia-about her stubbornness, her sharp wit, and the way she always managed to outsmart him when they were kids.
I found myself laughing more than I had in weeks, the stress of the day fading with each story he told.
“You know,” I said as we finished our meal, “you’re not half bad at this whole decompressing thing.”
He grinned. “Told you.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling.