Page 26 of My Italian Love Affair

If I thought for even a second that I’d submitted something subpar, I wouldn’t have sent it in the first place.

I clench my jaw, forcing myself to keep my expression neutral. I willnotlet this prick see that he’s gotten under my skin.

“Okay,” I say, my voice measured. “I’ll make sure to copy you in moving forwards.”

Mark smirks like he’s won something, like I’ve just confirmedthat I need his guidance.

“Good girl.”

The words land like a slap, hot embarrassment prickling at my skin.

I know exactly what he’s doing. He thinks I’m young, inexperienced and easy to intimidate.

And sure, I’m new to this particular beat, but I’m notincompetent.

Forcing a tight-lipped smile, I nod and make a mental note to draft my next article twice as well - just to prove him wrong.

The meeting wraps up not long after, with Mark running through our schedule for the next two weeks. It’s a packed itinerary, with press events, interviews, promotional activities and even a charity gala - although our attendance there hasn't actually been confirmed just yet.

Good thing I packed those extra heels, after all.

The sheer volume of it all is a little overwhelming, but I refuse to let Mark see that.

Despite the dampener he’s put on my mood, I can’t deny a flicker of excitement at the opportunities ahead. Covering football might not be my dream, but being in the thick of it - attending high-profile events, rubbing shoulders with people who dominate headlines…

There’s something undeniably thrilling about it.

Maybe, just maybe, there’s a way to make the most of this experience after all.

“Well, you’ve got enough to be busying yourself with for now,” he says, nodding towards the door. “Don’t disappoint me, Sinclair.”

Despite his words, I remind myself that I’m not here to please him as I step out of his private office and into the main workspace, ready to introduce myself to my new colleagues.

I’m here formyself, and whatever happens, I’m not going to let him - or anyone else for that matter - take that away from me.

Chapter Ten

Matteo

The final training session before a game is always the most important.

The last run-through before war.

We work on set pieces, defensive transitions, and pressing patterns. We work until every movement, every pass, every attack is drilled into our bones.

Tomorrow, we win.

That’s the only outcome I’ll accept.

“Rossi, move your ass!”

I smirk at our coach’s bark, already pivoting on my foot and surging forward. The ball comes to me clean, and in one fluid motion, I take a touch, feint past a defender and rocket a shot into the top corner.

The net ripples.

It’s beautiful.I’mbeautiful.

“Madonna,” Marco, one of our midfielders, groans dramatically as he jogs over. “You love making us look bad, don’t you?”

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