143
Matteo’s POV
The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, save for the sound of Mr. Cavanaugh drumming his fingers against the polished conference table. His sour expression matched the tension in the air. The deal was slipping through our fingers, and Gianna was doing her best to salvage it, but even she seemed to be hitting a wall.
“This wasn’t what we agreed upon,” Cavanaugh said, his tone clipped. “These terms are a joke, Miss Lorenzo.”
Gianna, seated across from him, maintained her composure. “Mr. Cavanaugh, I assure you, the terms haven’t changed. We simply clarified the delivery schedule to ensure you’re not left waiting on product—”
“That’s irrelevant,” he snapped, cutting her off. “What’s relevant is that your team didn’t communicate these ‘clarifications’ until now.
