“And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say the feeling is mutual.”
Her breath hitches slightly before she catches herself.
“No,” she says firmly, stabbing a finger at my chest. “You are not charming, Rossi. I know your type - you think the world revolves around you. That you can just smirk and flirt and everyone will fall at your feet. But I’mnotimpressed.”
“Not even a little?”
“Not. Even. A little."
I chuckle, crossing my arms.
“Alright,giornalista. If you say so.”
“I do say so,” she snaps, sounding close to childish as she pushes away from the wall. “And I mean it, Rossi - I am only around, onlynoticing,because I have to.”
And with that, she turns on her heel, storming off down the hall without so much as a glimpse back at me.
I watch her go, smirking to myself as she disappears around the corner.
Oh, this is going to befun.
It’s going to be a very,veryinteresting few weeks.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Daphne
If there is a hell, I am living in it.
For the past two weeks, I have been forced to spend more time around Matteo Rossi than any one person should ever have to endure.
And the worst part?
People arelovingit.
The viewers are eating it up.
Every single infuriating interaction, every snarky back-and-forth - I can barely look at social media without stumbling upon clips from our interviews, captioned with things like"these two have chemistry and they HATE it"or"this is just flirting disguised as an interview".
People don’t seem to realise that Matteo isnotflirting.
He’s tormenting me. There’s a difference.
I’ve even seen a compilation video, of all things - a whole minute and a half of Matteo being an absolute menace, set to some stupidly romantic pop song.
And the comments.
Oh,god,the comments-
You can see Daphne’s soul physically leaves her body every time he speaks.
Matteo’s got that ‘annoying boy who pulls your pigtails on the playground’ energy.
She wants to throw hands but she also kinda wants to kiss him.
I ammortified.
The worst part is that I remember every ridiculous thing he’s said to me.