Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 135364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Shame that he saw me like that, that he heard Mark laying into me -
That he watched my so-called mentor cut me down like I’m nothing.
And despite everything I know about this man, my traitorous brain takes a second longer than it should to register just how unfairly good he looks.
But then he goes and raises a single brow, clearly waiting for a response, and I snap myself out of it.
“Enjoy the show?” I comment dryly.
Matteo’s mouth twitches like he’s amused. “I was enjoying the silence, actually. But your boyfriend seemed determined to ruin that.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I scoff, crossing my arms and ignoring the way my chest tightens at his assumption.
Matteo hums like he’s unconvinced.
His sharp gaze flickers over me.
Assessing, I think.
Then, pushing off the wall, he takes a slow but purposeful step forward.
“No?” he muses. “He sure as hell talks to you like one of those insecure pricks who can’t stand their girl being smarter than them.”
His words land like a strike to my already bruised pride, but not in the way I expect.
Because for the first time, I don’t hear a hint of mockery in his voice. No teasing lilt, no smirk pulling at his lips like he’s enjoying some private joke at my expense.
Instead, he says it so casually - like it’s a fact. Like he’s just stating the obvious.
That thought - along with his admittedly delicious Italian accent - has something in my stomach tightening.
“I’m not smarter than him,” I say before I can stop myself, my voice hoarse and raw from biting back the emotions I refuse to show. “I just… I just wanted to do my job.”
Matteo stops in front of me, close enough that I can see the faint crease in his brow, the subtle shift in his usual cocky demeanor.
He’s still him - still looks like he was carved by the gods for the sole purpose of scoring goals and breaking hearts - but there’s something different now.
Something quieter.
“You did do your job,” he says simply. “That guy’s just pissed because you did it better than he expected you to.”
I let out a sharp breath, part disbelief, part exhaustion.
“You don’t even know me.”
“I don’t need to,” Matteo shrugs unapologetically. “I know his type. And I know bullshit when I hear it.”
His words settle heavily between us, pressing against something tender in my chest.
I swallow and shake my head before I let out a bitter, humourless laugh.
“You don’t get it,” I murmur. “You don’t know how hard it is for someone like me to be taken seriously in this industry. If I slip up even once - if I do one thing wrong - it’s not just a mistake. It’s proof that I don’t belong here at all.”
Matteo doesn’t look away.
Instead, he watches me for a long, quiet moment before tilting his head slightly.
“So don’t slip up.”
He says it so simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
Like all I have to do is decide to be better, and suddenly the odds won’t be stacked against me anymore.
“You really think it’s that simple?” I ask, my voice quieter now, but no less sharp.
Matteo tilts his head, watching me.
“I think people like him want you to believe it’s impossible.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
His dark brows lift slightly, but I don’t give him a chance to cut in.
“You don’t know what it’s like to constantly be questioned. To walk into a room and feel like everyone’s already made up their mind about you before you even open your mouth. You -”
I shake my head.
“You’re Matteo Rossi. You could turn up to a press conference in your underwear and they’d still call you a genius.”
Matteo’s lips twitch.
“Depends on the underwear.”
I glare at him.
“I’m being serious.”
For a second, I think I see amusement flash in his dark eyes, but it’s gone in an instant as his jaw tightens.
“You think you know me?”
I’m taken aback by the immediate change.
His voice isn’t teasing anymore. It’s edged with something sharper, something colder.
Matteo steps closer, his presence suddenly suffocating in the narrow corridor.
“You think I’ve never had people doubt me?”
His words are quiet, but they cut through the air like a blade.
“That I don’t know what it’s like to have a room full of people decide who I am before I even say a fucking word?”
“You -” I falter, because I don’t know what to say.
Because I had assumed.
I’d thought that for someone like Matteo Rossi, life was just… well, easy.
He scoffs, shaking his head as though he’s just read my mind.
“You look at me and see some arrogant asshole who’s had everything handed to him, right?”
His eyes darken, his accent sharpening around the edges.
“You have no idea what I’ve had to put up with. The shit people have said about me since I was a kid. The way they pick me apart, build me up just to try and tear me down the second I slip.”