Chapter 48

Chapter 48
She never expected Matteo would ask Avery to stay for the interview—completely derailing her carefully laid plans.

"What's the matter? Do you have a problem with Avery being here?" Matteo's voice carried that signature alpha-male authority that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Of course not." Chloe's jaw clenched behind her forced smile.

She had no choice but to fake pleasantries and roll with this unwelcome change.

"Then let's get started."

With practiced efficiency, Chloe arranged her professional equipment. She positioned the microphone with meticulous care, adjusted the digital recorder, and angled the camera for the perfect shot. Everything had to be flawless.

This was her golden ticket. Once everyone at CQ Broadcasting saw she'd landed an exclusive with the Matteo Ferrari, her career trajectory would shoot straight to the executive floor.

With everything in place, she flashed her million-dollar smile.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Ferrari!" Chloe's face settled into her camera-ready expression. "I'm Chloe Vaughn from CQ Broadcasting. It's such an honor to—"

The interview hit turbulence before it even left the ground. Her enthusiasm crashed against the brick wall of Matteo's indifference. On camera, his expression could have frozen hell itself.

"Ask your questions. I don't have time for pointless chatter."

Not a hint of warmth crossed Matteo's chiseled features. Those steel-gray eyes regarded her with the kind of dismissive arrogance usually reserved for gum stuck to expensive shoes. The dangerous, unapproachable aura he projected made the spacious office feel suddenly claustrophobic.

"Right. Of course." Chloe nodded, treading carefully.

Her first question had been crafted with surgical precision—focusing on his business empire. Given Matteo's reputation as a commercial titan, this should have been a softball. After all, what successful man doesn't enjoy a little ego stroking?

"Mr. Ferrari, how did you manage to build such an impressive business empire in just a few short years?"

She poised her pen over her notepad, already mentally drafting the compelling narrative she'd weave from his answer.

Matteo's response was two syllables of pure disappointment.

"Good luck."

That was it. The sum total of his insight.

Chloe blinked, certain she'd misheard. No way had this business magnate just blown off her question with the depth of a fortune cookie.

Struggling to maintain her professional smile, she pressed on. "Are there any secrets to success you might share with our audience?"

She emphasized, "Perhaps regarding your approach to leadership?"

Matteo arched one perfect eyebrow, then completely sidestepped the question.

"Early to bed, early to rise. Three square meals a day."

Chloe's knuckles whitened around her pen. The urge to fling her notepad across his minimalist office nearly overwhelmed her professional restraint.

He wasn't just uncooperative—he was deliberately sabotaging her. Every dismissive answer demolished the rhythm she'd planned. She felt like a court jester performing for a king who'd already decided on execution.

But her career depended on this piece, so she plastered on an even brighter smile and soldiered on to the next question.

"Regarding your fashion design division, can you share details about any upcoming exhibitions?"

"You should direct that question to the project team."

A pattern emerged with painful clarity. No matter what she asked, Matteo responded with either maddeningly vague answers or irrelevant deflections.

At this rate, she'd have nothing usable. The entire interview would be a spectacular waste of time.

When she attempted to steer toward his personal life, Matteo cut her off with arctic efficiency.

"Enough. My valuable time isn't meant to be wasted on your superficial questions."

His eyes performed a clinical dissection of her professional appearance. "It's genuinely difficult to imagine what goes on in that head of yours."

From her position near the wall, Avery failed to suppress a snicker at Matteo's cutting remark.

"I apologize." Chloe's cheeks burned with a toxic blend of embarrassment and rage.

She couldn't even fake a smile anymore. The brutal truth stared her in the face—her interviewing skills were subpar and her preparation inadequate. But walking out now would be career suicide!

To salvage what remained of her dignity, Chloe abandoned her sinking interview script.

"Perhaps we should move on to the photo session, Mr. Ferrari."

She inhaled deeply and rose to her feet.

Shifting into photographer mode, she began adjusting lighting and camera angles with feigned confidence.

Yet what followed bore no resemblance to the glossy, professional shoot she'd envisioned.

From the moment the photography began, Matteo transformed into a master fault-finder, interrupting her work every thirty seconds.

"That lighting is blinding. Are you trying to damage my retinas?"

"That angle is atrocious. It makes everyone look hostile."

"Your photography skills are as impressive as your interview technique."

Each barbed comment pushed Chloe closer to her breaking point.

She'd heard rumors about Matteo's difficult nature, but this was beyond difficult—this was psychological warfare!

He demanded perfection in microscopic detail while ruthlessly highlighting her every misstep.

Under Matteo's relentless pressure, Chloe abandoned all hope of scoring exclusive content. Her only goal now was escaping this office with a shred of professional dignity intact.

But Matteo wasn't finished with her yet.

"Ms. Vaughn, since you sought this interview, I assume you're thoroughly familiar with our company's annual strategic plan?"

"Of course." The lie slipped from her lips with practiced ease.

Something in Matteo's casual posture as he tossed out the question triggered warning bells in her mind.

His laser-focused gaze seemed capable of detecting the slightest deception.

"Then perhaps you could explain the design philosophy behind our company's ready-to-wear collection for next season?"

Chloe's throat suddenly felt like the Sahara.

"I haven't researched that specific detail."

Matteo's soft scoff cut like a knife.

"Well then, regarding the market segmentation you mentioned earlier, you should at least be familiar with that, correct?"

He lazily propped his chin on his hand, the picture of bored condescension.

"In the current economic climate, how would you recommend the luxury goods industry conduct more precise market segmentation?"

The question might as well have been in Sanskrit.

Chloe's woefully inadequate preparation left her intellectually naked—she never anticipated Matteo would flip the interview dynamic so completely.

"Let me think..."

As Matteo fired increasingly specific industry questions, Chloe frantically searched her mental database and found nothing but error messages.

"It should focus on different consumer demographics?" she ventured, her professional veneer cracking.

Matteo raised that imperious eyebrow again. "Be specific."

Chloe's face flamed hotter than a summer sidewalk.

"I mean, customers have varying consumption priorities, so..."

Her rambling explanation collapsed under its own weight, riddled with contradictions and textbook misquotes.

Matteo nodded as if confirming a long-held suspicion.

"It seems you lack even basic understanding of our industry, let alone the qualifications to interview someone at my level."

The blood drained from Chloe's face.

The devastating truth finally dawned on her—Matteo had never intended to participate in a legitimate interview.

This entire meeting had been an elaborate exercise in humiliation!

As mortification and fury collided inside her, Chloe's eyes gleamed with unshed tears.

"Mr. Ferrari, I know Avery doesn't like me. If she's poisoned your opinion of me with some misunderstanding—"

She attempted to redirect blame to Avery, donning the cloak of victimhood.

Matteo's mocking laughter cut her off mid-sentence, as if her desperation were the punchline to a private joke.

"Chloe, your acting skills are truly abysmal."