Chapter 41

Chapter 41
Chloe's smile stiffened as the tension in the room thickened.

"Mr. Ferrari, I didn't mean to ambush you like this," she said, her voice deliberately soft with a hint of vulnerability. She'd heard rumors about Matteo's unapproachable nature, but experiencing his glacial demeanor firsthand sent a chill through her practiced confidence.

"I'm here representing CQ Broadcasting Company for an interview request." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a rehearsed move that usually worked wonders. "And to apologize again for that misunderstanding at the racetrack."

Chloe stepped closer, the designer pencil skirt she'd specifically chosen hugging her curves. "I'm truly sorry about that."

She'd spent extra time on her makeup this morning, contouring and highlighting to perfection. In her experience, men were predictable creatures easily swayed by a well-displayed figure and a flutter of eyelashes.

But Matteo's lips merely curled into something between a smirk and a sneer.

"Apologize?"

He could spot her calculated seduction from a mile away. While he could objectively acknowledge her attractive figure, it stirred absolutely nothing in him. Instead, his mind betrayed him by flashing to that stormy night at his villa—Avery impulsively kissing him, demanding his attention without a single practiced move. The memory alone sent heat through his veins in a way Chloe's deliberate display couldn't.

"Ms. Vaughn, your apology means nothing to me." His voice dropped to that dangerous register that would have sent his associates running for cover.

His investigation into Avery's past had revealed years of Chloe's subtle torment. The thought made his jaw tighten.

"However," he continued, deceptively casual, "I'm willing to overlook the racetrack incident." He propped his chin on his hand, eyes glittering with something predatory that Chloe completely misread. "And regarding your interview request... come back in three days."

He had no qualms about teaching her exactly what happened to people who hurt those under his protection.

Oblivious to the danger, Chloe's pulse quickened with excitement as she pressed her advantage. "Three days seems so far away," she cooed, leaning slightly forward. "I'm available right now if—"

"Are you having trouble understanding basic English?" Matteo interrupted, his voice silk over steel.

Though he hadn't moved a muscle, the temperature in the room seemed to plummet. For a heart-stopping moment, Chloe felt genuine fear course through her veins—the primal instinct of prey in a predator's sights. But the moment passed so quickly she convinced herself she'd imagined it.

"I understand perfectly," she managed, masking disappointment with practiced grace. "Three days it is."

With that, she turned and walked out, making sure to add an extra sway to her hips.

Matteo watched her retreating figure, his expression hardening. "Pathetic," he muttered.

Since she dared to torment Avery, he would teach her what it meant to fall from hopeful anticipation into complete despair.

Chloe, meanwhile, was mentally celebrating her victory. She interpreted Matteo's notorious standoffishness as proof of her irresistible charm. After all, men like him didn't grant interviews to just anyone.

"I knew no man could resist me for long," she thought smugly. "Even the ice-cold Mr. Ferrari melted a little."

She was already daydreaming about herself as Matteo's girlfriend, imagining the luxury lifestyle that would come with it.

When she passed Avery's desk, Chloe couldn't resist stopping. "Mr. Ferrari just agreed to my interview," she announced, voice dripping with false casualness.

"Not only did I avoid getting thrown out, I managed to score an exclusive with him." Her eyes flashed with challenge. "Impressed?"

Avery's brow creased slightly. Matteo agreeing to an interview? That was completely out of character... unless he was planning something. Knowing him and his calculating nature, this had trap written all over it.

Instead of jealousy, Avery felt a strange wave of sympathy. "Then I wish you the best of luck," she said sincerely.

Then, noticing something Chloe didn't, Avery's lips curved slightly. "Chloe, if I were you, I'd be careful not to get so caught up in your victory that you forget to watch where you're going."

Chloe dismissed her with a contemptuous hair flip. "Don't curse me just because you're jealous. That kind of pettiness is so beneath me."

She strutted forward, chin high, eyes fixed ahead—and completely missed the small step down ahead.

One second she was walking tall, the next she was airborne. A surprised yelp escaped her as she tumbled forward, designer heels flying off as she landed in an ungraceful heap.

The office erupted in poorly concealed snickers. Susan at reception wasn't even trying to hide her amusement, doubled over and clutching her sides.

"Someone should really put up a 'Watch Your Step' sign," someone called out to more laughter.

Avery looked down at Chloe, unable to completely suppress her smile. "I did try to warn you."

"You absolute bitches!" Chloe hissed, face flushed with humiliation.

She struggled to her feet, shooting Avery a venomous glare before limping away, one heel clutched in her white-knuckled grip.

Jason had witnessed the entire spectacle with clinical detachment. Their arrangement was purely transactional—no emotional investment necessary.

After Chloe's dramatic exit, he approached Avery's desk. "I'm stuck on some design concepts," he said, hunching slightly to appear non-threatening. "Would you mind taking a look?"

Though surprised by his apparent request for help, Avery pointed out several issues with his work. "The lines here clash with your overall aesthetic. You could simplify this section..."

"You're absolutely right," Jason nodded eagerly, making a show of absorbing her advice.

"I can't thank you enough," he said with practiced sincerity, while his eyes systematically cataloged every detail of her open design portfolio.

Avery wasn't fooled for a second. She caught his wandering gaze and immediately recognized his game—design theft dressed up as professional interest. But she deliberately looked away. Sometimes the best revenge was giving someone just enough rope.

This exchange, however, was perfectly visible to Matteo as he emerged from his office. From where he stood, the two appeared entirely too cozy—heads bent together, sharing what looked like private jokes.

A muscle ticked in his jaw.

He crossed the space between them in long strides. "Avery. My office. Now."

"Of course," she replied, momentarily caught off guard by his intensity.

Jason quickly stepped back. "Thanks again for your help, Avery," he said, inwardly cursing the interruption before he'd memorized the full design.

As he turned to leave, Matteo's voice stopped him cold. "Jason."

He turned back cautiously. "Yes, sir?"

"That impossible client in City M needs immediate attention. The one threatening to pull their account."

Matteo's crimson eyes were arctic. "I expect a complete resolution within twenty-four hours."

Twenty-four hours? Jason barely suppressed a groan. That particular client was notorious for being impossible to please, constantly changing requirements and throwing tantrums.

Had he somehow landed on Ferrari's bad side? But how?

"Of course, Mr. Ferrari," Jason managed, swallowing his protest. "I'll handle it personally."