139

139
Matteo’s POV
The sound of clinking glasses and soft jazz filled the quiet corner of the hotel bar. It had been another long day, but a good one. The deal had gone through smoothly, thanks in no small part to Gianna’s relentless determination. She had been on fire during the meeting, handling every curveball with grace and authority. Watching her work was like watching a maestro conduct an orchestra-it was hard not to be impressed.
Now, sitting across from her, I couldn’t help but feel a little lighter. The usual edge in her posture was gone, her shoulders relaxed as she swirled the wine in her glass. She wasn’t smiling exactly, but her expression was softer, almost…peaceful.
“To a successful meeting,” I said, raising my glass.
Gianna hesitated for a moment before lifting hers. “To teamwork,” she replied, her lips curving into a faint smile.
We clinked glasses, and I took a sip, savoring the warmth of the whiskey as it slid down my throat.
“You know,” I said, leaning back in my chair, “you could’ve just said I did a great job instead of hiding behind the whole ‘teamwork’ thing.”
Her brow arched, and there it was-the hint of a smirk I’d been aiming for. “You did fine,” she said, her tone deliberately nonchalant.
“Fine?” I placed a hand on my chest in mock offense. “I practically saved that deal. Admit it, Gianna-you were impressed.”
Her smirk widened, but she shook her head. “Don’t push your luck, Matteo.”
I chuckled, taking another sip of my drink. Bantering with her had become one of my favorite pastimes on this trip. She was sharp, quick-witted, and unflinchingly honest-qualities that were equal parts frustrating and fascinating.
“Alright,” I said, setting my glass down. “But seriously, you were incredible today. Watching you in that meeting…it’s like you were playing chess while everyone else was stuck on checkers.”
Gianna’s gaze flicked to me, something unreadable flashing in her eyes. For a moment, I thought she might brush off the compliment, but instead, she let out a soft laugh.
“Thanks,” she said, her voice quieter than usual.
The conversation flowed more easily after that. We talked about everything and nothing-our favorite childhood memories, the most ridiculous clients we’d ever dealt with, and even a little about our families.
I told her about Emilia, how she’d practically raised me after our parents passed, and how fiercely determined she was to protect the people she cared about. Gianna listened intently, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass as I spoke.
“She really sounds impressive,” she said when I finished.
“She is,” I replied, smiling. “But don’t tell her I said that. She’ll never let me hear the end of it.”
Gianna laughed-a genuine, unrestrained sound that made my chest tighten unexpectedly. I wasn’t sure if it was the whiskey or the fact that we were alone, away from the usual grind, but something about this moment felt…different.
“Your turn,” I said, leaning forward. “Tell me something about you that I don’t already know.”
She hesitated, her fingers stilling on the glass. For a moment, I thought she might deflect, but then she sighed and leaned back in her chair.
“Alright,” she said, her voice soft. “I didn’t always want to do this, you know. The whole corporate world thing.”
That caught me off guard. “Really? What did you want to do?”
Her lips twitched into a faint smile. “I wanted to be a writer.”
“A writer?”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I was always scribbling stories as a kid. I thought I’d grow up to write novels or screenplays. But life had other plans.”
I frowned. “What happened?”
She shrugged, but there was a hint of sadness in her expression. “Reality happened. Family legacy and all. Expectations to meet. Writing didn’t seem…practical. So I went into dad’s business instead.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. It wasn’t the kind of thing you could just brush off with a joke or a witty remark.
“You’re still young,” I said finally. “You could always go back to it someday.”
Gianna smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Maybe,” she said, her tone making it clear she didn’t believe it.
It wasn’t long before the conversation became quieter, more personal. The bar emptied out until it was just the two of us.
I wasn’t sure when it happened, but at some point, I was starting to get attracted to her. And not in just a normal friendly way.
“Another round?” I asked, my voice lower than I intended.
Gianna hesitated, her eyes meeting mine. For a moment, she looked like she might say no, but then she nodded.
“Sure,” she said softly.
I flagged down the bartender, but my attention never left her.
When the drinks arrived, we clinked glasses again, though neither of us said a word. When we finished with the drinks, we went back to our room and she sat on her bed, staring at what I couldn’t pinpoint.
At some point, I couldn’t take it anymore. I went to her.
“Gianna,” I said, my voice breaking the quiet.
She looked up, her eyes wide and searching.
“This,” I said, gesturing vaguely between us. “It feels different. Doesn’t it?”
Her lips parted like she wanted to say something, but no words came out.
I leaned forward, my heart pounding. “Tell me I’m not imagining this.”
For a long moment, she just stared at me, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she set her glass down and leaned forward, closing the space between us.
“You’re not,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Before I could second-guess myself, I closed the remaining distance. The kiss was soft at first, hesitant, like we were both waiting for the other to pull away. But when neither of us did, it deepened, the tension between us snapping like a taut string.
Her hands found their way to my shirt, and mine slid into her hair, pulling her closer. It was like every barrier we’d built over the past few days crumbled in an instant, leaving nothing but raw, unfiltered want.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard, our foreheads pressed together.
“Gianna,” I said, my voice hoarse. “If you want me to stop-”
“Don’t,” she said quickly, her eyes meeting mine.
That was all the encouragement I needed. I kissed her hard, my hands going underneath her dress. I carried her from the bed easily, pinning her against the wall.
Sliding my hands underneath her ass, she tokk the cue and wrapped her thighs against my waist as I slammed her back against the palm tree.
The loose ends of her dress get trapped between us in my haste and I yanked them out of the way. I had to bury my cock inside her before I explode.
Pinning her between the wall and my pelvis, I tore open the front of my jeans, wrenched her panties to one side and impaled her in one rough thrust. I nearly lost my mind when her wetness and warmth enveloped me, drawing me deeper and deeper inside her body. At the same time I heard her cry out in a jagged chorus of surprise and ecstasy.
“Say my name!” My voice was harsh and needy. “Let me hear you scream it.”
“Matteo! Matteo! Matteo!” she gasped, each new intone timing perfectly with my every assault.
“That’s right, my angel,” I said hoarsely, seeking out her lips again and forcing my tongue between her teeth, fucking her mouth at the same time as her sex. This was so much more than oblivion, it was fiercer and stronger than anything I’ve ever known.
I fucked her like I haven’t fucked in a year. This was as a result of the build up of my arousal for her.
I was so violent with my desire that I thrust my tongue deep inside her mouth and she choked. I couldn’t help myself. She tasted too good and I wanted to savour everything. I couldn’t temper my pace or intensity, my self-control was in pieces. I could feel her inner muscles squeezing my cock as her own restraint shattered around me.
“Come for me!” I roared, tearing my mouth from hers and she screamed again. She tensed and then slackened in my arms and I felt like a fucking god. “Yesss.” I groaned as my own orgasm spiraled me into a temporary void where nothing else existed except us.