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Matteo’s POV
The hum of Gianna’s laptop was the only sound in the room, save for the occasional rustle of papers as I flipped through reports. We’d agreed to use the evening to finalize everything for tomorrow’s meetings, but the silence between us was almost suffocating. Not awkward—Gianna was too self-assured for that—but dense, like the quiet demanded my respect.
She sat cross-legged on the bed, her blazer discarded on the chair, leaving her in a crisp white shirt with sleeves rolled to her elbows. Her focus was absolute, her fingers flying across the keyboard as if her life depended on it. I, on the other hand, had finished my share of the work ten minutes ago and was trying to resist the urge to interrupt her.
“Are you always this intense when you work?” I finally asked, break
