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)
Mark sneers.
“You think you can just come in here and make demands about my assistant journalist?” he huffs. “You’re a player, not her fucking babysitter.”
Matteo doesn’t budge. His jaw tightens, his expression unyielding.
“You’re not listening, are you?” he says, his voice low but charged with a quiet intensity.
Mark opens his mouth to retort, but Matteo continues before he can get a word out, his voice suddenly lower.
“I have to wonder... how do you think Giovanna Falcone will feel when she finds out about your professional relationship with a junior colleague? A woman nearly twenty years younger than you?”
Matteo’s voice is deceptively calm, but the undertone is unmistakable.
The words hang in the air between the men, sharp and pointed.
A threat that’s only thinly disguised.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as my pulse races at an alarming rate, and I watch as Mark’s eyes flicker with the first sign of uncertainty.
His face turns a dull, angry red as he stumbles back slightly, caught off guard by the insinuation.
He’s not used to being challenged like this.
Especially not in front of anyone.
“You wouldn’t dare -”
“Oh, I would,” Matteo interrupts.
His voice filled with an icy finality, the chill in it unmistakable.
“This is my business now. And if you don’t back off, I’ll make sure it’s everyone’s business.”
His gaze doesn’t leave Mark’s, unflinching and resolute, and for a moment, there’s a stillness in the air.
The two men are at an obvious standoff, neither of them so much as glancing in my direction. It’s like I’ve disappeared completely.
But then I spot the exact moment that the weight of Matteo’s words finally lands with a punch.
Mark’s fists clench by his sides, and it’s obvious that he’s absolutely seething, but he also knows he’s beaten. He shoots me a look - one that’s a combination of disdain and barely-contained fury - before muttering something unintelligible under his breath.
His steps are quick and unsteady as he hurries down the hall, eager to escape the situation he’s found himself in.
The silence that follows feels oppressive.
The sound of Mark’s footsteps echo as he retreats, but Matteo’s presence fills the hallway, and it’s impossible to ignore the energy shift between us.
He doesn’t move. Instead, his eyes remain fixed on the space where Mark had been.
It’s like he’s daring anyone to challenge him again. Daring an invisible person to take another step forward.
I stand there, frozen on the spot, and I can’t help but feel an odd combination of relief and fury.
Relief because I’m not trapped in that awkward moment anymore, but anger because I didn’t need or ask for anyone’s help.
Especially not Matteo’s.
The frustration bubbles up from somewhere deep inside me, and before I can stop myself, I turn toward him, my voice tight with irritation.
“I didn’t need you to do that,” I snap, my voice sharper than I intended. “I was handling it just fine on my own.”
Matteo’s eyebrow arches slowly, his gaze darkening, but he doesn’t step back. Instead, he steps closer, leaving his tall, broad body mere inches from mine.
His grin is mocking, but there’s something more in his eyes.
Something challenging.
Something dangerous.
"Right. Yes. You looked like you were handling it great," he says, his thick accent adding a layer of sarcasm and judgement that makes my blood simmer. "I'm sure Mark was just about to change and be so respectful."
I feel my chest tighten with indignation.
“Don’t patronise me, Rossi,” I grit out, forcing my voice to stay steady despite the fact that every inch of my body is practically vibrating with the urge to yell at him.
“I’m not being patronising,” he replies easily. “I was just making sure you didn’t end up in a worse situation. And for the record - most people say thank you when someone saves them.”
I scoff at the actual nerve of him. It honest-to-god makes me want to punch him in the arm.
Or his stupidly handsome face.
“You think I needed saving?” I throw back at him, my breath coming faster now. “You clearly don’t know a damn thing about me. I’ve been handling that man just fine on my own, thank you very much.”
For a split second, Matteo’s smirk falters, the flicker of surprise in his dark eyes betraying him.
But then he steps forward just as quickly, effectively closing the remaining space between us.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t handle it,” he says through gritted teeth. “I just didn’t think you should have to.”
His words land on me like a weight.
Something in the way he says it makes me feel like he wasn’t just defending me in that moment, but he was somehow also protecting me.
The thought makes my stomach churn and my heart race all at once.
I inhale sharply in an attempt to ground myself, but before I can form a retort, I realise I’ve stepped too far into his space.
Too far into his territory.