165

165
Matteo’s POV
I wasn’t sure why she’d said yes to dinner this time.
We’d been circling each other for weeks now, an unspoken tension and awareness building every time we were in the same room. When I’d asked if she wanted to grab a drink after work, I half-expected her to shut me down, sharp and decisive, like she always did when things got too personal.
But this time, she surprised me. She had hesitated for a moment before nodding, her eyes guarded.
Now, we were sitting in the corner of a dimly lit bar, far enough from the rest of the after-work crowd that it felt like our own little world. Gianna nursed her glass of red wine, her fingers tracing the rim absently, while I sipped a whiskey neat, watching her.
She was quiet tonight. Not the composed, commanding quiet she carried at work, but a softer kind-almost vulnerable.
“You’re not regretting this already, are you?” I asked, breaking the silence.
Her lips twitched, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Not yet. But give it time.”
I chuckled, leaning back in my chair. “I’ll try not to take that personally.”
For a while, we talked about safe topics-work, the ridiculousness of corporate politics, the time someone accidentally sent an email to the entire company. She even laughed a few times, and I let myself savor the sound, rare as it was.
But then the conversation lulled, and her gaze drifted to the edge of the table, distant and thoughtful.
“You want to ask me something,” I said, more a statement than a question.
Her eyes flicked back to mine, sharp as ever. “How do you know that?”
“You get this look,” I said, leaning forward. “Like you’re weighing whether the risk is worth it.”
She shook her head, but her lips curved in the faintest smile. “You’re annoyingly perceptive sometimes, you know that?”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
For a moment, I thought she was going to brush it off, change the subject like she always did when things got too close. But then she set her glass down and met my gaze head-on.
“I’ve been meaning to explain something,” she said slowly. “About why I’ve been… hesitant.”
That wasn’t the word I would’ve used. Distant. Guarded. Impossible, even. But I kept my mouth shut and let her continue.
“It’s not just about work,” she said. “Or the fact that I am older than you, or that I am your boss, though that’s part of it.”
She paused, and I could see her deliberating again, that same weighing-the-risk look in her eyes.
“I’ve been through things, Matteo. Things that made me… cautious. Maybe too cautious,” she breathed out, refusing to meet my gaze. I found myself straightening at that time. I’ve barely ever heard her use it before and I had a feeling that whatever she was about to say, I wouldn’t like it.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. “What kind of things?”
She hesitated, her fingers tightening around her glass. “There was someone. A long time ago. I thought… I thought it was going to last.”
Her voice softened, and I could hear the undercurrent of pain she was trying to hide.
“But it didn’t?” I asked gently.
She shook her head. “He cheated on me. With someone I trusted. And the worst part was, I didn’t even see it coming. I thought I knew him. I thought I knew her. I … God I thought I knew them both.”
The bitterness and pain in her tone was sharp enough to cut, and I felt a surge of anger on her behalf. Her friend, and the bastard she had dated…
Oh God. I wish I knew the bastard. I wanted to punch him and demand to know how he could let go of such an amazing woman like Gianna. And I wanted to understand why and how her friend could betray her for some half-assed dick.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my teeth grinding against each other and my fists clenching.
She shrugged, but her expression didn’t match the gesture. “It was a long time ago. I’ve moved on. But it left a mark, you know? Made me question my judgment. Made me wonder if I was just… blind to things other people could see.”
“You’re not blind,” I said firmly. “You’re one of the smartest, most intuitive people I know.”
She gave a hollow laugh. “Tell that to my younger self.”
I wanted to argue, to tell her she was wrong, but I could see she wasn’t done.
“There’s another thing,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I’m older than you, Matteo. By more than a little. Don’t say it’s just two years, Matteo. We both know that matters. And while I know it’s not supposed to matter, it… it does to me. It’s hard not to think about the future, and whether we’d ever really be on the same page.”
I frowned, taken aback. “Gianna, that’s-”
“Don’t,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “Don’t tell me it’s not a big deal. Because it is. Maybe not to you, but to me.”
I leaned back, studying her. She looked so composed on the surface, but there was a crack in her armor tonight, a glimpse of the vulnerability and the soft hearted lady she usually kept locked away.
“It’s not a big deal to me,” I said carefully. “Not because I don’t think it’s worth considering, but because it doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”
She froze, her eyes widening slightly.
“I’m serious, Gianna,” I said. “I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re brilliant, driven, and yeah, you scare the hell out of most people at work. But you’re also kind. You care about the people around you, even if you don’t always show it. And I…”
I hesitated, then decided there was no point in holding back. “I’m falling for you. And it has nothing to do with your age or your title or anything else. It’s just you.”
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
“I get why you’re hesitant,” I continued. “I get that you’ve been hurt, and I get that you’re scared. But I need you to know that I’m not him, Gianna. I’m not going to hurt you. I wouldn’t even know how.”
The silence that followed felt like it stretched for hours.
When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “You say that now. But what happens when things get hard? When the novelty wears off, or when I make a mistake, or when-”
“Then we deal with it,” I said, cutting her off. “Because that’s what people do when they care about each other. They don’t walk away when things get hard.”
She looked at me, her eyes searching mine for something I couldn’t name.
“You make it sound so simple,” she said finally.
“It can be,” I said. “If we let it.”
She didn’t respond, and for a moment, I wondered if I’d pushed too far. But then she reached for her glass, taking a long sip before setting it down again.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” she said quietly.
I nodded, forcing myself to stay calm. “That’s okay. I’m not asking you to decide anything right now. I just… I needed you to know how I feel.”
Her gaze softened, and for the first time that night, she looked almost… grateful.
“Thank you,” she said.
It wasn’t much, but it was something. And for now, that was enough.