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160
Matteo’s POV
There’s something liberating about surrendering to a decision you don’t entirely agree with. I’d told Gianna I wouldn’t push her, and now I had no choice but to honor that promise.
So, I shifted my focus to work. Full steam ahead.
Monday morning came with a mountain of emails and back-to-back meetings. Perfect. It gave me something to concentrate on that wasn’t her.
That decision lasted all of two hours.
By the time the coffee run became unavoidable, I knew I was in trouble. Not because I wanted coffee-I needed it-but because her order was already in my head before I’d even reached the counter.
Black coffee, two sugars. It wasn’t difficult to remember, but the fact that I couldn’t forget it was the problem.
When I returned to the office, I placed her cup on the edge of her desk without a word.
Gianna glanced up, startled. “What’s this?”
“Coffee,” I replied, already walking away.
“Matteo,” she called after me, her tone suspicious.
I turned back. “Yes?”
She squinted at me like she was trying to solve a puzzle. “Why?”
“Because I was getting one for myself,” I said casually. “Thought I’d save you the trip.”
She didn’t say thank you, but she didn’t complain either. That was progress, right?
The rest of the day passed in a blur of spreadsheets, client calls, and last-minute edits. Gianna stayed mostly in her office, emerging occasionally to ask a question or grab a file.
I kept my distance, but my eyes found her more often than they should have.
She was distracted today, I could tell. A crease had formed between her brows, and she chewed on the end of her pen-a habit I found endearing but would never dare mention.
At one point, she walked past my desk, muttering something under her breath.
“Everything okay?” I asked before I could stop myself.
She froze, then turned slowly. “Fine,” she said, though the tightness in her voice suggested otherwise.
“Sure about that?”
“Yes, Matteo,” she said, clearly annoyed.
I nodded, holding up my hands in surrender. “Just checking.”
She hesitated, as if debating whether to say more, but ultimately walked away.
By mid-afternoon, I felt like I could cut through this undeniable tension between us with a knife. My mind wouldn’t stop going to her and I would stop looking at her office, wondering what she was doing or if she was by any chance looking at me too. I caught her doing that just once.
I was deep in a report when Gianna appeared at my desk, clutching a stack of papers.
“Matteo,” she said, her tone brisk, “I need your input on this.”
She placed the documents in front of me, and I scanned them quickly.
“There’s a typo here,” I said, pointing to a line in the middle of the page.
Her face fell. “Damn it.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I said. “I’ll fix it.”
“You don’t have to-”
“Gianna,” I interrupted, meeting her gaze. “It’ll take me five minutes. Let me handle it.”
She sighed but nodded. “Thanks.”
I worked quickly, making the corrections and double-checking the rest of the document. When I handed it back to her, she lingered for a moment.
“Why are you being so… helpful?” she asked, her voice softer now.
I leaned back in my chair, considering my response. “Because you’re my boss. That’s what I’m supposed to do. Help you out, remember? Stop putting hidden meaning into everything okay?”
She stared at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “Right,” she muttered, eyeing me warily before nodding and walking away.
By the time the office emptied out for the evening, I was the last one there. Or so I thought.
The sound of a chair scraping against the floor made me glance up. Gianna was still in her office, her head resting on her hand as she stared at her computer screen.
She looked exhausted.
I grabbed my bag and headed for the door, but something made me stop.
Instead, I walked back to her office and knocked lightly on the doorframe. I should be staying away from her like I promised. I really should be staying away from her. But here I was, peeping into her office.
“Still here?” I asked.
She jumped slightly, then glanced at the clock. “Oh. I didn’t realize how late it was.”
“You should go home,” I said.
“Yeah,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes. “In a minute.”
I hesitated, then stepped inside. “Need help with anything?”
She shook her head. “I’ve got it.”
“Gianna,” I said, my tone firm but not unkind, “you’re not doing anyone any favors by overworking yourself.”
She looked up at me, her expression somewhere between gratitude and irritation. “You don’t have to look out for me, you know.”
“I know,” I said simply.
Her gaze softened, and for a moment, I thought she might actually let me in. But then she turned back to her computer, effectively shutting me out. “I’m fine, Matteo,” she muttered flatly. “You can go home, please.”
“Gianna-” I began to protest but that was stupid. She shot me a look that clearly said she didn’t want to discuss this further.
“Just drop it, Matteo. You promised to keep your distance, remember?” She reminded me and I could literally see it in her face that it pained her to do so.
“Right,” I nodded. “Goodnight, Gianna,” I said, stepping back toward the door.
“Goodnight,” she murmured without looking up.
I walked out of her office and out of the company, my mind number as I flagged down a taxi and got into one. On the drive back home, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were stuck in some kind of stalemate.
I was doing my best to respect her boundaries, but I couldn’t ignore the pull I felt toward her. And whether she wanted to admit it or not, I knew she felt it too.
For now, though, all I could do was wait.
And keep bringing her coffee.
Even if she never asked for it.