145
Gianna’s POV
The restaurant was nice-too nice for my liking, with its dim lighting, soft jazz, and napkins folded like little works of art. It was the kind of place where the wine list was longer than the menu, and the waitstaff looked like they could model in their spare time.
But Mr Clifford loved it, so here we were, basking in the glow of a successful deal. Everyone was in high spirits, glasses clinking, conversation flowing. I sipped my wine sparingly, keeping my smile polite and my guard firmly in place.
Matteo, of course, looked completely at ease. He always did in situations like this-charming Mr Clifford, cracking jokes that landed effortlessly. It was infuriating, how natural it all seemed for him.
“Enjoying yourself?” His voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
I turned to find him watching me, his expression unreadable.
“Of course,” I replied, plastering on a smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You just seem a little… tense.”
“I’m not tense,” I said quickly, which only made me sound more tense.
Matteo’s lips twitched. “If you say so.”
I went back to my wine, ignoring the way he was still looking at me, like he could see through the cracks in my composure.
It didn’t take time before the waiters serves our meal. The meal was incredible-seared scallops, truffle risotto, and a dessert menu that could probably bankrupt me in one sitting. I stuck to the scallops, nodding along as Mr Clifford entertained us with stories about their latest business ventures. Matteo chimed in occasionally, his voice smooth and confident, steering the conversation like he was born to do it.
I mostly stayed quiet, letting him take the lead. He was better at this part-the schmoozing, the small talk. It gave me a chance to blend into the background, which was exactly where I wanted to be.
But Matteo didn’t let me stay there for long.
“Gianna,” he said suddenly, his tone light but pointed. “What do you think?”
I blinked, realizing too late that I had no idea what the question was.
“About…?” I prompted, trying to buy time.
He leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “About whether Mr Clifford should branch into the European market.”
I glanced at Mr Clifford, who was watching me expectantly, and forced a smile. “I think it’s an excellent idea, as long as the logistics are solid.”
Matteo arched an eyebrow. “Logistics?”
“Yes,” I said firmly. “Distribution, regulations, market research-all of that has to be airtight before you make the leap.”
Mr Clifford nodded, seemingly satisfied with my answer, and launched into a tangent about international shipping laws. I shot Matteo a glare, which only seemed to amuse him.
“What was that about?” I hissed under my breath when Mr Clifford’s attention shifted back to their plate.
“Just keeping you engaged,” he replied innocently.
“I was engaged,” I muttered.
“You were hiding behind your wineglass,” he countered.
I narrowed my eyes at him, but before I could retort, the waiter arrived with dessert menus, effectively ending the conversation.
Somewhere between the chocolate souffle and the espresso, I started to relax. Mr Clifford was thrilled with the deal, the mood at the table was celebratory, and Matteo-much to my surprise-wasn’t being insufferable.
In fact, he was being… funny.
“You should have seen Gianna during the pitch last month,” he said, grinning as he recounted some mildly embarrassing moment I’d forgotten about. “She had the entire room eating out of her hand, and she didn’t even realize it.”
“That’s not true,” I said quickly, my cheeks heating.
“Oh, it absolutely is,” Matteo insisted. “You did that thing you always do when you’re deep in thought-”
“I don’t have a ‘thing,'” I interrupted.
“Yes, you do,” he said, turning to Mr Clifford for backup. “She gets this little crease between her eyebrows, like she’s solving a world crisis. It’s very intimidating.”
The Mr Clifford laughed, nodding in agreement. “I’ve seen it! She’s very focused.”
I shook my head, half-annoyed, half-amused. “You’re exaggerating.”
“Am I?” Matteo leaned closer, his voice dropping just enough to feel personal. “Because I think it’s one of your best qualities.”
The table fell quiet for a moment, his words hanging in the air.
I looked away, suddenly needing another sip of wine. My eyes met with Mr Cliffords’ and he gave me a knowing smile before he continued his conversation with Matteo. I cleared my throat, needing a moment to recollect myself.
After dinner, we said our goodbyes to Mr Clifford, leaving Matteo and I alone in the restaurant. People were already leaving and it seemed like the restaurant would be closing soon. I got up from the chair. “We should leave,” I murmured.
Matteo didn’t say anything. He just got up, grabbed his phone and walked to the door.
“Well,” I said in an attempt to fill the silence, reaching for my coat. “That went well.”
“Thanks to you,” Matteo said, holding my coat out for me.
I hesitated, but there was no polite way to refuse without making it weird. “Thanks,” I muttered, sliding my arms into the sleeves.
He didn’t step back right away, his hands lingering on my shoulders just long enough to make my pulse stutter.
“So,” he said casually, “was that so bad?”
“The dinner or your relentless teasing?” I asked, raising a questioning brow.
“Both.” He grinned, his eyes twinkling.
I rolled my eyes, stepping away from him. “It was fine.”
“Fine,” he repeated, clearly unimpressed with my answer.
“Yes, Matteo. Fine. Perfectly tolerable,” I bit out, rolling my eyes once again.
He laughed, low and rich, and for some reason, it made my chest tighten.
“You’re impossible,” I muttered, heading for the door.
“And yet, you’re still here,” he called after me.
I didn’t look back. But as we stepped into the crisp night air, I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.
Because for the first time in a long time, I’d actually enjoyed myself.