Chapter 21

I had just finished typing up Matteo’s updated quarterly memo when Liana, one of the junior analysts, bounced over to my desk with a grin too wide to be casual.

“You didn’t forget, did you?” she asked, eyes dancing with excitement as if the building wasn’t made of glass and spreadsheets and caffeine-fueled trauma on most days.

I stared at her blankly, hovering between email tabs and lukewarm coffee. “Forget what? My will to live? Because I lose that every Monday.”

She laughed so hard she snorted, then said, “No, Sarah. Today is the office tradition ‘Celebrate One Another Day.’ The CEO started it three years ago.”

“Celebrate what now?” I asked, eyebrows knitting together as I tried to recall anything from the onboarding documents about a day that sounded like a rom-com masquerading as team-building.

Liana plopped a glittery flyer onto my desk. “It’s corporate Valentine’s Day without HR violations gifts, games, team bonding, romantic confessions if you dare. It’s wild. And you’re coming.”

I stared at the pastel invitation like it might explode, and suddenly the distant sound of music and laughter made sense It wasn’t another coffee truck; it was a full-on celebration downstairs.

After wrapping up my last file, I headed to the main lounge and immediately felt like I’d walked into a P*******t board made of heart balloons, scented candles, and too many smiling coworkers.

They’d moved all the desks and replaced them with cozy couches, rose-gold banners, fairy lights, a chocolate fondue fountain, and of course a circle of chairs arranged for ice-breakers and emotional sabotage.

Mia spotted me first, waving dramatically while holding a pink cupcake in one hand and a camera in the other. “You made it! Just in time for the chaos.”

“How are you here” I asked making sure my voice was low.

“Oh, Ryan invited me,” she said.

I slid into the chair beside her, eyes darting toward the far side of the room where Matteo stood in dark slacks, looking like a misplaced villain at a wedding photoshoot.

Right beside him Isabelle, draped over a chair in red silk, sipping something bubbly and laughing with just enough volume to remind everyone she was still very much in the room.

Before I could process how uncomfortable that pairing made me, someone clapped their hands at the front of the room and shouted, “It’s time for Truth or Dare!”

The crowd whooped.

I tried to sink deeper into my seat.

Mia handed me a drink. “It’s only dangerous if you’re hiding something spicy. You’re not, right?”

I side-eyed her. “If this ends in karaoke or confessions, I’m quitting before someone makes me sing Adele.”

The game started.

Safe questions at first. Silly dares. Someone had to hug their manager. Another confessed they’d stolen someone’s yogurt. Innocent chaos that made everyone laugh harder than necessary.

Then the bottle spun.

And it landed on Ryan.

The guy beside him grinned devilishly. “Ryan, truth or dare?”

Ryan leaned back, relaxed as ever. “Dare.”

Someone from accounting yelled, “Kiss your crush in this room right now!”

Laughter exploded around the circle.

But Ryan didn’t laugh.

He stood up slowly, confidently, and walked around the circle one step at a time like he already knew the ending to this movie and wasn’t afraid to live it.

My breath caught.

He stopped right in front of me.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, low enough for only me to hear.

I nodded.

And then he kissed me.

It wasn’t rushed.

It wasn’t hesitant.

It was warm and sure and real his hand resting gently on my cheek, his lips slow and soft and entirely unforgettable.

Somewhere behind me, someone cheered.

But I barely noticed.

Because the only thing I felt was the pulse in my wrist and the way my fingers curled against his shirt like they’d always belonged there.

When he pulled back, my heart was hammering like I’d run a marathon through rose petals and reckless choices.

“I meant that,” he said simply, then walked back to his seat like he hadn’t just set my whole existence on fire.

Mia leaned over, whispering, “Well, damn.”

I couldn’t speak.

Because my brain had short-circuited and my body was still replaying the memory on loop.

And across the room?

Matteo’s jaw was set.

His expression unreadable, but his eyes had darkened like a storm rolling over the skyline.

Beside him, Isabelle smirked and whispered something into his ear, making him glance at her.

Then shockingly he smiled.

And not the polite, clipped smile he reserved for board meetings.

It was something more dangerous. More deliberate.

They moved toward the gift table, and to everyone’s surprise, Matteo reached out and took Isabelle’s hand, guiding her to the couch as if suddenly deciding to play the game, too.

Someone offered Isabelle a microphone to sing; she accepted.

She chose a sultry jazz tune and pulled Matteo up to slow dance beside her as she sang, her voice rich and seductive.

Matteo didn’t pull away.

He even spun her once, smiling faintly, letting the room watch as they swayed together like something out of a black-and-white film.

I watched, confused.

Because it felt staged.

Yet Matteo’s hand rested low on Isabelle’s back, and her smile widened with every beat.

Mia whispered, “That’s weird, right? Like… not just me?”

I nodded, unsure of what I was feeling jealousy? Resentment? Or just the sting of being reminded that Matteo had always known how to perform when it counted.

The game continued.

But everything felt a little off-balance now.

Until Ryan’s hand slipped into mine beneath the table.

And suddenly, the noise faded again.

He looked at me not for attention, not to prove anything.

Just to see me.

And for the first time in a long while, I let myself be seen.

***

The game didn’t slow after Ryan’s kiss it only turned bolder.

Everyone was giddy, laughing, slightly flushed from the champagne and fondue and the freedom of saying things usually tucked behind work emails.

Then the bottle spun again.

And it landed on Matteo.

The room shifted. Just a little.

He adjusted in his seat, still calm, unreadable as ever. Someone from HR too brave, clearly tipsy grinned and asked, “Truth or dare, Mr. Russo?”

Matteo’s lips curled faintly. “Truth.”

“Have you ever,” the guy started, smirking like a devil, “thought about falling in love with someone you work with?”

Everyone oohed in mock scandal.

Matteo’s eyes flicked toward me for the briefest second so quick it could’ve been missed.

But I saw it.

And it burned.

He leaned back, crossing his arms. “I think falling in love is a dangerous game, especially in the office.”

Laughter.

But it wasn’t an answer.

It was a deflection.

His gaze didn’t meet mine again.

And I realized in that moment that no matter how many games we played, Matteo would never let himself lose control.

The bottle spun again.

And this time it landed on me.

“Truth or dare?” Mia grinned, eyes wide.

I swallowed. “Dare.”

She didn’t even blink. “Confess your feelings. To the one person in this room you care about.”

The air changed.

Everyone leaned forward like this was the moment they’d waited for all night.

I glanced at Matteo once.

But he was already looking away.

So I stood.

Turned.

Faced Ryan.

And for the first time, let the words fall free.

“I didn’t expect you,” I said, voice soft but steady. “You were just the guy who smiled too much and stole my fries.”

He laughed, quietly and was surprised.

“But you were kind,” I continued. “When the world felt heavy, you were light. And when I was drowning in Matteo’s chaos, you were calm.”

The room was silent now.

No teasing.

Just the sound of my heart.

“I remember our dinner the wine, the jokes, that ridiculous tiramisu. It wasn’t a date. But it felt like one. And I didn’t want it to end.”

Ryan’s eyes didn’t leave mine. Not once.

“And then the late-night texts. The walk home. You didn’t ask anything from me anything. You just… showed up. Again and again.”

I took a breath.

“Some people make your heart race. But you make it steady. Safe. And honestly, I think I’ve been waiting a long time to feel that.”

I looked at him, fully open now.

“I like you, Ryan. A lot.”

He stood, stepping forward.

And pulled me into a hug that felt like coming home.

The room cheered.

But all I heard was his heartbeat.

Right there, against mine.

The game was winding down, laughter softening into murmurs, champagne flutes half-empty when someone spun the bottle one last time.

And fate, cruel and mocking, sent it spinning straight toward Matteo.

The room quieted again.

He leaned forward just slightly, like a man ready to throw himself into fire just to feel something.

“Truth or dare?” someone asked from across the room nervous, maybe, or thrilled to hold a moment like this in their hands.

Matteo’s jaw flexed.

He didn’t hesitate. “Truth.”

The question came, clear and sharp: “Do you love Isabelle?”

Gasps.

Even Isabelle straightened in her seat, blinking in surprise, her fingers tightening around her champagne glass.

The pause was a beat too long.

But then Matteo looked directly at her, eyes dark and unreadable.

“Yes,” he said, voice smooth and cold. “I do.”

I froze.

Mia’s hand instinctively squeezed mine under the table.

But Matteo wasn’t done.

“In fact,” he continued, standing now, “I’ve been thinking about marrying her. She’s elegant. Sharp. Loyal. The kind of woman who never lets emotion cloud judgment.”

Each word felt like a blade.

Not because they were about Isabelle.

But because I knew they weren’t meant for her.

They were aimed at me.

Isabelle stood up slowly, a coy smile curving on her lips like she had just won the grand prize.

She walked over to Matteo, hips swaying, eyes locked on his.

And then, right there in front of everyone, she grabbed him by the lapel…

…and kissed him.

It wasn’t sweet.

It wasn’t careful.

It was possessive. Hot. Steamy.

Matteo let it happen.

Worse he kissed her back.

His hands slid around her waist, pulling her closer.

And the room erupted.

Some cheered. Some whispered.

But I just sat there, heart sinking, as everything I thought I knew tilted sideways.

Because he wasn’t just kissing her.

He was proving something.

And I didn’t know if he was trying to convince the room.

Or himself.

__

The music lowered, the lights dimmed, and just like that—the celebration was over.

People began gathering their coats, tossing away champagne flutes, hugging each other goodbye with cheerful smiles that didn’t reach their eyes.

The illusion of festivity faded with every chair pushed back, every streamer swept off the floor, every whisper of “see you Monday” echoing through the lounge.

But me?

I sat frozen.

Still tasting the ash of Matteo’s words in the back of my throat.

Still seeing the way he kissed Isabelle like it meant something.

Like I hadn’t just stood five feet away and poured my heart out to another man.

Ryan leaned toward me, his voice gentle, careful. “You okay?”

I forced a smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He didn’t press.

He never did.

He just stood, offering his hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

I took it.

Because even though my heart was bruised, his touch was steady.

We walked toward the exit slowly, past clusters of coworkers still laughing, still clinging to the night like it hadn’t just left marks.

And as we stepped through the glass doors.

I felt eyes on me.

I turned.

Matteo stood near the window, arms folded, watching me with an expression I couldn’t read.

He looked…

Lost.

But he didn’t stop me.

And I didn’t stop walking. 

Outside, the night air was cool against my skin, a small relief to the heat burning quietly in my chest. I didn’t look back again. If Matteo wanted war he’d just started one. But for now, I chose peace. And Ryan’s hand in mine felt like the safest place to be.