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Gianna’s POV
The moment I set foot into the conference room, I knew something was wrong.
The atmosphere was tense—not the kind of tension I’d expected from a routine meeting, but the kind that prickled the back of your neck. The clients, seated in a neat row at the long table, were whispering amongst themselves, their faces tight with irritation. Matteo was already there, leaning casually against the table, his face a mask of calm confidence.
I strode over to him, keeping my expression neutral. “What’s going on?” I murmured.
Matteo glanced at me, his mouth quirking into an almost-smile. “Our presentation is in the wrong language.”
I blinked. “What?”
He handed me a printout, and sure enough, the neatly arranged slides—our meticulously crafted pitch—were in Spanish. The clients we
