141

141
Matteo’s POV
The car ride to our next stop was the quietest it had been since we left the city. Usually, Gianna would have her tablet open, firing off quick questions or reminders about the day’s meetings, and I’d be making sarcastic comments just to see how far I could push her before she sighed in frustration.
Today, though, she was quiet. Too quiet. She sat rigid in her seat, her focus glued to the tablet in her lap, even though she hadn’t scrolled through it in at least ten minutes.
I tried not to take it personally, but I wasn’t an idiot. The icy wall she’d thrown up after that night in the hotel room was impossible to ignore. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. Her face was calm, composed, like nothing could touch her.
If only I could get her to look at me the way she had that night. Just once.
“So,” I said, breaking the silence, “do you think the clients today will be as charming as yesterday’s?”
She didn’t look up. “Unlikely,” she said flatly.
I waited for more, maybe a quick jab at my ability to schmooze, but nothing came.
“Not much of an optimist today, huh?” I tried again, keeping my tone light.
This time, she sighed, still not meeting my gaze. “Let’s just focus on getting through the meetings, Matteo. We have a lot to accomplish, and I’d rather not waste time.”
There it was again-that cold, clipped tone she’d perfected over the past few days. I bit back the urge to push harder. She wasn’t ready to talk about what had happened between us, not yet. But I wasn’t going to let her shut me out forever.
The meetings were a blur of handshakes, presentations, and polite smiles. Gianna was, as always, the picture of professionalism-poised, articulate, and utterly untouchable.
She hardly looked at me, except when necessary, and even then, her gaze was fleeting. I played my part, charming the clients and slipping in just enough humor to keep things lively, but it was hard to focus when I felt like I was talking to a brick wall.
By the time we wrapped up for the day, I was itching to get her alone, to break through that icy exterior and remind her that she didn’t have to be perfect all the time.
“Good work today,” I said as we walked back to the car. “I think the last guy actually cracked a smile. That’s gotta be a record, right?”
Gianna didn’t respond right away. She was already scrolling through her tablet, probably reviewing notes for tomorrow.
“Yeah, well,” she said distractedly, “let’s not celebrate too soon. We still have two more stops before we’re done here.”
I opened the car door for her, waiting until she slid inside before following. As the driver pulled away from the curb, I turned to her, determined to get more than a one-word answer this time.
“You know,” I said, leaning back in my seat, “we could grab dinner somewhere nice tonight. Celebrate the fact that we didn’t completely bomb today.”
Gianna glanced at me, her expression unreadable. “I’m not sure that’s necessary. We’ll have room service and review tomorrow’s schedule instead.”
I rolled my eyes. “Come on, Gianna. One night off won’t kill us. You’ve been running at full speed since we got here-you deserve a break.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Matteo, this isn’t a vacation. We’re here to work, not to indulge in leisurely dinners.”
“Maybe, but you can’t tell me you don’t need a break. You’re human, just like the rest of us.”
She looked away, her jaw tightening. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I’d rather stick to the plan.”
Back at the hotel, the silence between us was suffocating. I watched as she unpacked her laptop, settling at the small desk in the corner of the room without so much as a glance in my direction.
I flopped onto the couch, drumming my fingers against my knee.
“You know,” I said finally, “you don’t have to keep punishing me for what happened.”
Her hands stilled on the keyboard, but she didn’t look up. “I’m not punishing you,” she said, her voice tight.
“Could’ve fooled me,” I muttered under my breath.
She sighed, closing the laptop with a soft click. “Matteo, I told you already-it was a mistake. The sooner we move on, the better.”
“Move on?” I said, sitting up straighter. “You’re the one who’s acting like it didn’t mean anything. But it did. At least, it did to me.”
She finally looked at me, her eyes sharp. “I’m not going to have this conversation with you again.”
“Why not?” I shot back, unable to keep the frustration out of my voice. “Because it’s easier to pretend it didn’t happen? To pretend you don’t feel anything?”
Her expression hardened. “This isn’t about feelings, Matteo. It’s about being professional.”
I laughed bitterly. “Professional? You’ve been shutting me out since that night. How is that professional?”
Gianna stood, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m trying to protect both of us. If you can’t see that, then maybe you’re not as mature as I thought you were.”
The words stung more than I cared to admit, but I didn’t back down. “Protect us from what, exactly? The fact that we might actually be good together?”
She shook her head, her jaw tightening. “This conversation is over.”
“Fine,” I said, throwing my hands up in frustration. “But you can’t keep running from this forever, Gianna. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to face the fact that what we have-what we could have-is worth the risk.”
She didn’t respond, turning back to her laptop instead. But the tension in her shoulders told me my words had hit their mark.
The rest of the evening passed in strained silence. I stayed on the couch, flipping through channels on the TV without really watching, while Gianna buried herself in work.
Every so often, I’d catch her glancing at me out of the corner of her eye, her expression flickering with something I couldn’t quite place. Regret? Doubt?
Whatever it was, it gave me hope.
By the time I crawled into bed, the room was dark and quiet, except for the soft tapping of Gianna’s fingers on the keyboard. I stared at the ceiling, my mind racing with everything I wanted to say but couldn’t.
I wasn’t giving up on her. Not yet. Not ever.
But for now, I’d have to let her come to me.