145
Gianna’s POV
The restaurant was nice—too nice for my liking, with its dim lighting, soft jazz, and napkins folded like little works of art. It was the kind of place where the wine list was longer than the menu, and the waitstaff looked like they could model in their spare time.
But Mr Clifford loved it, so here we were, basking in the glow of a successful deal. Everyone was in high spirits, glasses clinking, conversation flowing. I sipped my wine sparingly, keeping my smile polite and my guard firmly in place.
Matteo, of course, looked completely at ease. He always did in situations like this—charming Mr Clifford, cracking jokes that landed effortlessly. It was infuriating, how natural it all seemed for him.
“Enjoying yourself?” His voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
I turned to
