140

140
Gianna’s POV
The morning sunlight filtering through the hotel curtains was entirely too bright, and for the first time in years, I regretted not packing an eye mask. My head throbbed faintly, and my body felt heavier than usual, like I hadn’t fully come back to myself yet.
I shifted under the covers and froze.
The sheets smelled faintly of Matteo’s cologne. My chest tightened as the memories of last night surged forward in a wave I couldn’t stop. The warmth of his hands on my skin. The way his lips had found mine like they’d belonged there all along. The soft rasp of his voice when he’d said my name like it meant something.
Oh, God.
I sat up quickly, clutching the sheet to my chest even though I was alone in the bed. Matteo wasn’t in the room, but the faint sound of water running told me he was in the shower.
I pressed my palms to my face, trying to push away the flood of emotion. This couldn’t have happened. It shouldn’t have happened. Matteo was my employee. A colleague. Younger than me.
I couldn’t let this derail everything I’d worked so hard to build.
By the time he stepped out of the bathroom, towel slung low around his hips and hair still damp, I was already dressed. I stood by the window, my arms crossed tightly, staring out at the cityscape as if it could ground me.
“Morning,” Matteo said, his voice warm and unguarded in a way that made my stomach twist.
“Morning,” I replied, my tone clipped.
There was a pause, and I could feel him watching me. I didn’t dare turn around.
“Gianna,” he started, but I cut him off.
“Last night was a mistake,” I said, my voice sharp and cold. “It shouldn’t have happened, and it won’t happen again.”
He didn’t respond immediately, and I could feel his silence pressing against my back.
“Is that really what you think?” he asked finally, his voice softer now, more cautious.
I turned to face him, my expression carefully neutral. “It doesn’t matter what I think, Matteo. What matters is that it was unprofessional and entirely inappropriate.”
He stepped closer, his brow furrowed. “Unprofessional? Gianna, we weren’t exactly drafting contracts last night.”
“Exactly,” I said, my tone biting. “And that’s the problem.”
Matteo crossed his arms, the easygoing charm he so often wore replaced by something more serious. “Look, I get it. This is complicated. But don’t stand there and pretend it didn’t mean anything.”
“It didn’t mean anything,” I said, the words tasting bitter as they left my mouth.
He flinched, just slightly, but enough for me to see it.
“Really?” he said, his voice low. “Because it sure as hell didn’t feel meaningless to me.”
I looked away, my jaw tightening. I couldn’t let this spiral any further. If I let him believe there was even the slightest chance, it would only make things harder-for both of us.
“I need to get to the meeting,” I said briskly, grabbing my bag from the chair. “We’re already behind schedule.”
“Gianna,” Matteo said, stepping closer. “We need to talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I snapped, my voice harsher than I intended. “It happened, and now it’s over. That’s all there is to it.”
The silence that followed was thick and suffocating. Matteo stood there, his jaw clenched, his eyes searching mine for something I couldn’t give him.
“Fine,” he said finally, his voice tight. “If that’s how you want to play it, I’ll back off. But don’t expect me to act like nothing happened. Because it did. And it mattered.”
I turned on my heel and walked out before he could say anything else, the door clicking shut behind me with an almost deafening finality.
The elevator ride down to the lobby felt interminable. I kept replaying the conversation in my head, Matteo’s words echoing like a taunt I couldn’t escape.
It mattered.
Of course it mattered. But that didn’t mean I could let it.
By the time I reached the conference room, I’d forced my emotions back into their compartmentalized boxes. I was Gianna Lorenzo-sharp, focused, and utterly untouchable. And I wasn’t going to let one night with Matteo derail that.
The meeting dragged on, each client question and counterpoint feeling like another layer of exhaustion piling on top of me. Matteo was quiet throughout, his usual charm and wit noticeably absent.
I tried not to notice.
But as the day wore on, it became harder and harder to ignore the way he kept glancing at me, his expression a mixture of frustration and something else I couldn’t quite place.
When the meeting finally ended, I bolted for the door, desperate for a moment alone to catch my breath.
I found myself back in the hotel room, staring out at the city again. The view hadn’t changed, but everything else had.
The sound of the door opening behind me made my stomach tighten. I didn’t have to turn around to know it was Matteo.
“I thought you’d be out,” I said, keeping my voice as neutral as possible.
“Didn’t feel like it,” he replied, his tone flat.
I turned to face him, my arms crossed. “Is there something you need?”
He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I need to understand why you’re so determined to pretend last night didn’t happen.”
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “We’ve been over this, Matteo. It was a mistake. A lapse in judgment.”
“A lapse in judgment,” he repeated, his voice laced with disbelief. “That’s all it was to you?”
“Yes,” I said firmly, even as my chest ached with the lie.
“Right,” he said, his jaw tightening. “Because God forbid you admit you might actually feel something for someone.”
“That’s enough,” I said sharply, my voice cutting through the tension like a knife.
“No, it’s not,” he shot back, his voice rising. “You can’t just shut me out like this, Gianna. Not after last night.”
“Yes, I can,” I said, my tone icy. “Because that’s what professionals do. They move on. And that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”
For a moment, I thought he might argue, but instead, he just shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips.
“Fine,” he said, his voice low. “If that’s what you want.”
Without another word, he turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him.
I stood there, staring at the empty space where he’d been, my chest tight and my mind racing.
I’d won.
So why did it feel so much like losing?