Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 135364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Tonight, after a strong team performance and a goal to his name, he’ll surely be in a much better mood.
*
The press area is humming with the usual post-match energy - journalists positioning themselves, camera crews adjusting their angles and players filtering in fresh from the dressing room, still high on the thrill of victory.
I get through my first few interviews smoothly, speaking with a couple of the players who had standout performances tonight.
Next is the team’s goalkeeper, who had pulled off two crucial saves in the second half.
He’s always an easy interview - relaxed, chatty, with the kind of charisma that makes my job infinitely easier.
“Two huge saves tonight,” I comment. “How are you feeling?”
He grins, running a hand through his still-damp curls.
“Like I deserve a raise.”
I snort. “I’ll be sure to pass that along to your agent.”
“I’d appreciate that.” He laughs, then sobers slightly. “But seriously, it was a big night for us. We knew we had to bounce back after the last match, and I think we showed what we’re capable of.”
I nod, steering him through a few more questions before wrapping up. I quickly double check my list of players despite the fact that I know deep down exactly who’s next.
And judging by the distinctly smug energy radiating from a few feet away, he knows it too.
I look up and come face-to-face with Matteo.
He’s already watching me with his arms crossed over his chest, his usual sharpness softened by the glow of victory. He’s still in his full kit, white socks pushed down to his ankles and showing off his muscular calves, dark hair damp with sweat that also clings to the collar of his jersey.
“Always a pleasure to see you, Daphne,” he says in greeting.
His voice is all warm and smooth with just the right amount of teasing undertone.
I hate the way the sound of my name on his lips stirs something in me - something new and deeply inconvenient.
“Rossi,” I reply, keeping my voice even, professional. “A much better result tonight.”
“Observant of you.”
“Shocking, I know. It’s almost like I get paid to notice things.”
His smirk deepens, and for a split second, I brace myself for whatever infuriating remark he’s about to throw my way.
But to my surprise, he actually answers the question.
“We were sharper tonight. More composed. Controlled the midfield better, stayed aggressive in attack.”
He shrugs like it’s all just another day at the office, but there’s an unmistakable gleam in his dark eyes.
“And, you know, it helps when we actually score goals.”
“Right. Who would have thought that might be a winning strategy?”
He chuckles, shaking his head.
“Eh, maybe we should hire you as the new manager.”
“Tempting,” I quip. “But I think I’ll stick to my current job. Less running. More coffee.”
Matteo honest-to-god chuckles at that and tilts his head slightly, studying me in a way that makes my skin heat.
There’s no challenge in his gaze tonight.
No smugness, no irritation.
The moment stretches just a second too long, and I force myself to refocus.
“Looking ahead, the league final is getting closer. What’s the mentality in the squad right now?”
“Determined. We’ve worked too hard to let it slip now.” He exhales, his expression turning serious. “This win was important, yes, but there’s still a lot to do in these last few games.
“Good answer,” I say, clicking my recorder off. “Almost media-trained.”
His lips twitch.
“Almost.”
I hesitate for just a fraction of a second before adding, “Congratulations, by the way. On your goal.”
A flash of surprise flickers across his face, though it’s there and gone before I can really place it, replaced instantly by something far too smug for my liking.
“What can I say? I knew you were watching me.”
I scoff.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Rossi.”
His grin only widens.
“Too late.”
And maybe it’s the post-match high, or the fact that for once, he’s not being an unbearable ass, but I find myself dangerously close to smiling back.
Which means it’s definitely time to go.
I shake my head, turning away before he can see the way my lips threaten to curve upwards.
Heaven help me - that man is dangerous when he’s in a good mood.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Daphne
After what feels like hours, I finally slide into my rental car, the cool leather seat offering a brief moment of relief after the energy of the stadium.
I take a deep breath, letting the quiet hum of the engine soothe my nerves as I start her up.
The game went well, Mark was nowhere to be seen, Matteo had been surprisingly civil, and I’m happy with my work for the night.
All-in-all, it's been a success, and I’m pleased at how much lighter I feel as a result.
But then I reach into my bag, and my stomach drops.
I frown as I move my hand around again, certain I must have got it wrong. But when I still can’t find what I’m looking for, I pull my bag onto my lap and search through it with my eyes, just to be one hundred percent sure.