164

164
Matteo’s POV
I’d just sunk into my chair after back-to-back meetings when Gianna’s voice sliced through the air, sharp and commanding.
“Matteo, in my office. Now.”
No preamble, no softening. Just an order. I frowned, wondering what the hell she wanted that couldn’t wait. God. I almost cursed as I sat up straight.
The room went quiet as heads turned toward me. I fought the urge to roll my eyes at the spectacle and instead stood, smoothing my tie as I made my way to her door.
Gianna was already behind her desk when I walked in, her focus razor-sharp on the documents scattered across the polished wood. She didn’t look up immediately, but I could see the way her shoulders were stiff and I could have sworn there was an electric charge in the air.
“Close the door,” she said curtly, still not meeting my gaze.
I complied, folding my arms as I leaned against the frame. “What’s the emergency?”
She finally looked up, her eyes blazing with equal parts determination and frustration. “There’s a major issue with the Baxter account. Their CFO just called to say our numbers don’t align with theirs, and they’re threatening to pull out of the deal if we don’t fix it by the end of the day.”
I straightened. Baxter was one of our biggest clients-a deal we’d spent months negotiating. Losing them would be catastrophic.
“What do they think is wrong?” I asked.
“They claim we underreported projected revenue by 15% in the final proposal,” she said, shoving a file across the desk toward me. “Find the error. I’ve already got Finance pulling their side of the data, but we need to move fast.”
I opened the file and scanned the pages, my mind already piecing together where the discrepancy could’ve come from. “It’s probably a reporting lag in the quarterly numbers. I’ll cross-check with the original projections.”
“Good,” she said briskly, rising from her chair. “Let me know the second you find something.”
Before I could respond, she strode toward the door, her heels clicking with an urgency that matched her tone.
“Where are you going?” I called after her.
“To calm Baxter down before they implode,” she said over her shoulder. “Don’t let me down, Matteo.”
An hour later, I was deep into the spreadsheets, flipping between tabs with the kind of single-minded focus that made time disappear. The problem wasn’t obvious, which meant digging deeper-something I thrived on but hadn’t expected to be doing today.
The knock at my door barely registered until Gianna walked in, her presence as commanding as ever.
“What do you have?” she asked, bypassing pleasantries entirely.
“Almost there,” I said, motioning for her to come closer. “I think I’ve narrowed it down to a miscalculation in their regional distribution figures. They’re using outdated market trends for their analysis.”
Her brow furrowed as she leaned over the desk, close enough that I caught a faint whiff of her perfume-something subtle and impossibly distracting. “Show me.”
I pointed to the highlighted section on my screen. “See here? Their numbers assume a 12% growth rate in the Midwest, but our data shows only 8% for that region. They’re inflating expectations.”
She stared at the screen for a moment, her lips pressed into a thin line. “So, it’s their mistake, not ours.”
“Technically, yes,” I said. “But it’s going to take some careful explaining to make them see that without bruising their ego.”
Her eyes met mine, and for the first time that day, there was a flicker of something other than frustration. Appreciation, maybe.
“Good work,” she said, straightening. “Draft a response. I’ll review it before we send it over.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, unable to resist the hint of teasing in my tone.
She shot me a look that was equal parts warning and amusement. “Don’t push your luck, Matteo.”
“Wouldn’t dare,” I answered with a smirk, feeling like I could finally take a breather and rest, but I still had a lot to do. I buried myself in work once again.
By mid-afternoon, we were on a video call with Baxter’s CFO, presenting our findings. Gianna led the conversation with her usual poise, her voice steady and authoritative as she walked them through the data.
I sat next to her, ready to jump in when needed. To my surprise, she handed me the reins halfway through, nodding for me to take over the technical explanations.
It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes.
As I explained the discrepancies, I could feel her eyes on me-not scrutinizing, but assessing. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt the weight of her gaze, but today, it felt different.
When the call ended, Baxter’s CFO had agreed to move forward with the deal, provided we made a few adjustments to the projections. Crisis averted.
Gianna leaned back in her chair with a deep sigh, her shoulders visibly relaxing for the first time all day.
“Well done,” she said, turning to me.
“Team effort,” I replied, not bothering to hide my grin.
She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, and for a moment, the air between us was almost… easy. Like she was letting her walls down, slowly, but surely. I couldn’t help the hope blooming in my chest. Maybe this would work. At last.
The office was beginning to empty out and I was packing up my things, ready to go home and I noticed my door open and smelt her perfume before I even saw her.
“Got a minute?” she asked, her tone less commanding this time.
“Sure,” I said, standing to follow her back to her office.
She gestured for me to sit, then closed the door behind her.
“I wanted to thank you,” she said, sitting across from me. “Today could’ve gone sideways fast, but you handled it well.”
I raised an eyebrow, leaning back in my chair. “You don’t thank people often, do you?”
She smirked, a rare, genuine expression that caught me off guard. “Don’t get used to it.”
We sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the day finally lifting.
“You know,” I said, breaking the quiet, “you’re not as scary as you think you are.”
Her eyes narrowed, but there was a spark of humor in them. “Don’t push it.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Noted.”
For the first time since I’d started working here, it felt like we were on equal footing. Not just as boss and employee, but as people.
And as I left her office that night, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, she felt it too.