Chapter 6 - The TakeoverThe top floor of Cipriani Global Tower was less of an office and more of an architectural masterpiece. Glass walls offered a 360-degree panoramic view of New York City, and the minimalist modern interior hummed with quiet, terrifying efficiency.
When Kyle escorted me out of the private elevator into Matteo’s expansive executive suite, I felt a slight flutter of nerves in my stomach.
Matteo was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, looking over a stack of digital tablet reports. When he heard the glass doors slide open, he turned around.
The moment he saw me, a slow, breathtaking smile broke across his handsome face. He set the tablet down and walked over.
“You did it,” Matteo noted, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement and deep admiration.
“I walked out before they could fire me,” I admitted, catching my breath as he stopped just inches away. “Though I’m pretty sure Mabel Laurent is currently throwing a tantrum that can be registered on the Richter scale.”
Matteo let out a low laugh, his hand coming up to gently tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “Let her throw her tantrum. Her father’s primary line of credit was frozen by my financial team thirty minutes ago. By the end of the week, Laurent Inc. won't even exist under their family’s control.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “You actually did it?”
“I told you I protect what matters,” Matteo said softly, his voice dropping into a rich, gravelly register that made my pulse spike.
He stepped back slightly, gesturing toward a sleek, modern desk situated near the corner window, overlooking the entire Manhattan skyline. On top of it sat a fresh laptop, a bouquet of white lilies, and a brass nameplate that read: Ayla Morris – Director of Global Philanthropic Initiatives.
“Your new office,” Matteo announced proudly. “Complete with a dedicated team, a budget that actually helps people instead of funding high-society parties, and total creative freedom.”
I stared at the nameplate, feeling a sudden, overwhelming rush of emotion behind my eyes. For years, I had fought just to survive, just to stay afloat in a city that wanted to crush anyone without a famous name or an expensive dress. And now, standing here with a man who saw my worth when everyone else looked down on me, I realized I hadn't just survived.
I had won.
I looked up at Matteo, my heart swelling with a feeling far deeper and more dangerous than gratitude.
“Thank you, Matteo,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “For everything.”
May you like
Matteo closed the remaining distance between us, his strong hands sliding around my waist, pulling me gently against him.
“Stop thanking me, Ayla,” he murmured, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that promised a lifetime of tomorrows. “Just stay.”
