169
Gianna’s POV
The noise of my heels echoed softly in the quiet hallway outside my office. It was late, past the time any sane person would still be at work, but here I was, clutching a folder like it was some kind of shield against what I was about to do. It was obvious I wasn’t a sane person, or I’d be at home right now, sleeping like I should. Good lord. It wasn’t like I wasn’t exhausted.
I stopped in front of Matteo’s office door, staring at it like it might suddenly grow teeth and bite me. The soft glow of light seeped through the crack under the door, proof that he was still inside. Of course he was. Matteo was nothing if not relentless when it came to his work-or, as I was beginning to admit, when it came to me.
I raised my hand to knock but hesitated. What was I even going to say? How did you casually admit to someone that they’d somehow taken up residence in your thoughts, dismantling all your carefully built defenses without permission?
How do I admit to him that sometime between those two weeks we spent together and now, I had fallen in love with him even though if lied to myself times and times without number, that I hadn’t?
“Gianna?” His voice cut through my internal battle, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
The door was open, and Matteo was standing there, his tie slightly loosened, his sleeves rolled up. He looked… approachable. Which was ironic, considering I was the one barging into his space.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his brows knitting together in concern. His eyes did a quick sweep over me and then landed on my face once again. He took a step closer.
“Yeah,” I said quickly, stepping inside before I could lose my nerve. “I just… I need to talk to you.”
“Of course,” he said, stepping back to let me in.
I moved to the center of his office, placing the folder on the edge of his desk, though I had no intention of discussing its contents. Matteo closed the door softly, then turned to face me, his gaze steady and patient as always.
“So,” he said, leaning casually against the desk. “What’s on your mind?”
I folded my arms, then unfolded them, suddenly feeling restless under his gaze. “You,” I said finally, the word hanging in the air like a challenge. I shifted on my feet, suddenly feeling like the stupidest person in the world. God. I shouldn’t have said it like that.
His eyes widened slightly, and I saw the flicker of surprise before he schooled his expression. “Me?”
“Yes, you,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. “You and… whatever this is between us.”
“Oh,” he muttered and then he stayed quiet, his gaze never leaving mine. He didn’t push, didn’t interrupt, just waited for me to continue.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “I don’t know how to do this,” I admitted. “I don’t know how to be your boss and… and feel this way about you.”
“What way?” he asked softly, his voice careful, like he was afraid to scare me off.
“Don’t make me say it,” I said, my voice cracking.
“Gianna,” he said, stepping closer, “I need you to say it.”
I closed my eyes, willing the ground to swallow me whole. But then I opened them again and saw him standing there, so steady and sure, and the words tumbled out before I could stop them.
“I like you,” I said, the words rushed and clumsy. “More than I should. More than is probably smart or professional or whatever. And it scares the hell out of me.”
Matteo’s face softened, and he reached out, his hand brushing against mine. “Thank you for saying that,” he said, his voice low and warm.
“Don’t thank me,” I said quickly, pulling my hand back. “This doesn’t solve anything. I’m still your boss. People will talk. They’ll think-”
“I don’t care what people think,” Matteo interrupted, his voice firm. “And I don’t think you do either, not really.”
I blinked at him, startled by the conviction in his tone. “Matteo-”
“Let me finish,” he said, stepping closer. “I get it, Gianna. You’re worried about appearances, about how this might affect your reputation, your authority. But the truth is, you’ve been running this company with integrity and strength long before I ever showed up. No one’s going to question that, no matter what happens between us.”
I looked down, his words hitting me harder than I expected. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It’s not,” he admitted. “But nothing worth having ever is.”
My chest tightened, and I looked up at him, the weight of his words settling over me. “I’m still scared,” I whispered.
“I know,” he said, his voice softening. “And I’m not asking you to dive in headfirst. I’m just asking you to give this a chance. Give us a chance.”
I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. “And what happens if it all goes wrong?”
“Then we’ll deal with it,” Matteo said, his gaze steady. “Together.”
The word hung in the air between us, and I realized that was what I’d been missing all along. Not someone to solve my problems, but someone to face them with me.
“Matteo,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes?”
I didn’t have the words to respond, so I closed the distance between us, my hand reaching up to cup his face. He froze for a moment, his eyes searching mine, and then he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine.
The kiss was soft at first, tentative, like we were both testing the waters. But then it deepened, and all the tension, all the uncertainty, melted away.
When we finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, and I felt his breath warm against my skin.
“Was that your way of saying yes?” he asked, his lips quirking into a small smile.
I laughed softly, my hand still resting against his cheek. “Something like that.”
“Good,” he said, his voice full of quiet determination. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”
Neither was I. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I didn’t have to.