Page 190 of My Italian Love Affair

I try to maintain my mask of indifference, but the weight of Mark’s words still presses down on me like a stone.

As though he can read my mind, Matteo’s gaze sharpens.

"It’s Chapman, isn’t it?" he asks, voice turning cold.

Caught off guard by how quickly he’s hit the nail on the head, I quickly drop my gaze to the floor before meeting his gaze once again.

Matteo sees it, and his body goes rigid, muscles coiled with barely contained fury.

"What did he do?"

His voice is deadly, and I swallow thickly.

"Matteo, it'sfine-"

"It’s not fine. Not when it’s upset you like this," he says. "What. Did. He.Do?"

I close my eyes, willing the tears not to come.

But the dam breaks, and the words tumble out.

"He… called me into his office," I whisper, quickly wiping away the tears that have already fallen down my face.

Damn it- I donotcry.

Especially not in front ofmen.

"He grilled me about - aboutus. Accused me of being unprofessional, and basically said I was cosying up to you for attention, and to do better at work. And then -"

Matteo waits as I inhale a long, shaky breath.

He doesn't rush me. Doesn't interrupt.

I don’t miss the way that his large hands clench into tight fists, but he stays still, letting me find the words.

"He's been like this since I got here," I say, starting again, from the beginning. "From day one, he’s been rude. Dismissive and condescending and just -horrible. Always talking down to me, making snide comments about women in journalism with his yes-men who all just laugh along with his unfunny jokes and tell him how great he is. He… even warned me about you."

Matteo's brows knit together.

"Me?"

"Yeah. He told me that you don't believe women should be inthis industry. That you think we don’t understand football the same way men do,” I say with a bitter laugh. “He said that you wouldn’t like me asking you questions because of it. That you wouldn’t likemebecause of it."

I swear, Matteo's jaw actuallydrops.

"He said thatIsaid that?"

I nod, swiping at my wet cheeks.

"Yeah. And I… well, I believed him. I took his word for it and just assumed that you were an arrogant asshole who didn't, and wouldn’t ever, respect me."

He flinches like I've slapped him, and I hate it.

Still, he doesn't say a word, staying quiet and letting me continue.

"And then at the gala," I go on, "he cornered me when he was drunk. Made these gross, creepy comments and… and tried to touch me. You know the rest - you interrupted before it got worse. But that didn’t make it better. If anything, it was afterthatwhen he changed. He's been… nastier than ever, to be honest. Making comments. Watching me."

"Watchingyou?"

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