Page 192 of My Italian Love Affair

"Who are you calling?"

He frowns at his phone as it cuts off.

"Iwascalling my agent, but he’s not answering. So. I’ll call an old contact atLa Gazzetta dello Sport. If Chapman wants to play dirty, I'll bury him in truth."

I feel an overwhelming sense of dread at the thought, and I surge to my feet and reach out towards his arm. My hand wraps around his forearm, though my grip is soft as I blink up at him.

"Matteo, stop.Please."

His thumb hovers over thecallbutton, and his jaw ticks.

"Why?"

"Because..." I swallow hard. "Because if you go after him like this, it makes me look weak. Like I can't fight my ownbattles."

His eyes soften for the briefest second before the fury returns.

"You shouldn't have to fight them alone."

"But Ineedto,” I tell him, hating the way that my voice breaks and my eyes brim with tears. “Don’t you see?"

His chest rises and falls with uneven breaths, and he hesitates for a few moments longer before he lets out a huff of hot air and pockets the phone.

"Fine,” he says, and my shoulders sag immediately. “For now. But don't think this is over,bella- it’s not."

I wipe at my cheeks and nod my head once to confirm my understanding.

Though I do appreciate the gesture, it’s not what I need right now.

Right now, I just need time to think. To plan. To strategise.

As though he can sense the war still going on in my mind, Matteo lets out a long, heavy breath before he steps closer towards me.

I stand stoic on the spot as his muscular arms wrap around me with protective force, and though I’ve well and truly embarrassed myself in front of him by crying, I bury my face in his chest and inhale, finding comfort in the lingering scent of soap and something inherentlyhim.

"You're smart," he murmurs as his chin comes to rest on top of my head whilst his thumbs dance over the skin of my upper arms. "And talented. You work harder than anyone, and he knows that. That's why he's doing this. That’s why he’s trying to break you."

I’ve just about managed to compose myself, but his wordstouch a nerve, and my shoulders shake with silent tears all over again.

His hands tighten around me, and I feel his broad chest expand as he inhales a long breath.

I can tell that he’s agitated, that he’s eager to do something to fix this; but as I finally allow myself to lean into his hold, I can’t help but think howthisfeels like the best thing he can do for me right now.

"I'm not having this,” he says, though I’m not sure whether he’s talking to me or more to himself. “You're not going to be intimidated by anyone on my watch."

I tilt my head to look up at him.

His dark eyes - usually full of teasing warmth - are ice-cold.

"I'll make sure he goes away, and stays away."

"How?"

"However I have to," he says, his voice deadly calm. "I promise you, Daphne. I'm going to fix this."

It’s all too much, and hearing him address it so bluntly feels like the wind has been knocked right out of me.

My chest heaves with a sob, and Matteo pulls me back into his arms, cradling me against his chest as I cry into his shoulder.

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