THIRD PERSON POV

“I will not accept this presentation without your boss. He is supposed to be here to present the project. I planned everything together with him,” the man said angrily.

Matteo stood quietly against the doorway, watching the scene unfold.

No one had noticed his presence yet, and he was certain that none of them would recognise him. He had never set foot in this branch of the company since it was opened in Los Angeles.

That was exactly how he wanted it, for now.

To see for himself what kind of people were running this branch and whether the reports he had received were true.

So far, he wasn't impressed.

“What’s going on here?” Matteo finally asked.

His voice immediately caught the attention of the short, bespectacled man standing near the conference door.

The man had a pair of glasses sitting precariously low on his nose, while the top of his head was almost completely bare. There was hardly a strand of hair left on it.

Let’s just say he was unmistakably bald.

The man barely glanced at Matteo before answering.

“This is Mr Swift. He is one of our long-time clients. We handle their flyer and poster designs,” he explained. “Mr Phil was supposed to present the project to him today, but he didn’t show up. Again.”

He shook his head.

“Only heaven knows what is wrong with him this time.”

“Hmmm.”

Matteo's eyes briefly settled on the bald man's head.

At least someone seemed to be taking his job seriously.

When he had arrived, he had already assumed that everyone in this branch was a bunch of irresponsible employees. Apparently, there was at least one person who understood what it meant to work.

“Mr Swift, I assure you that Mr Phil is probably going through something in his personal life,” a woman interrupted, stepping forward. “But I promise you that he will be available tomorrow to present the project himself.”

Matteo's attention shifted to her.

He looked at her for a moment longer than he intended.

She was the youngest woman in the room.

Her fitted blouse hugged her figure, while her skirt fell neatly around her body. Something was striking about her appearance. She looked professional, yet undeniably captivating.

Beautiful.

Exceptionally beautiful.

No wonder Erica had told him that Alex could barely take his attention away from her.

Isla Hart.

That was her name.

The woman who had supposedly destroyed his sister's marriage.

The woman Matteo had come all the way to Los Angeles to deal with.

His plan had been simple.

He would destroy her life the same way he believed she had destroyed his sister's.

But then Isla turned toward the doorway.

Their eyes met.

And suddenly, Matteo forgot every thought he had been holding.

Her eyes were an unusual shade of ocean blue, clear and striking enough to hold his attention against his will.

Neither of them looked away.

For several long seconds, they simply stared at each other.

The noise in the room seemed to disappear.

The people around them became nothing more than distant figures.

Matteo's jaw tightened.

No way.

He couldn't believe the effect this woman was having on him.

One look.

That was all it had taken.

The woman he had come here to hate had managed to make his body react before his mind could remind him exactly who she was.

His attraction irritated him.

He immediately tore his gaze away.

She's a bitch.

A brazen bitch.

He forced himself to look toward the short man standing beside him instead.

He had questions.

And he intended to get answers.

----

Isla was confused.

She couldn't understand why her heart had suddenly started racing simply because she had looked at a stranger.

In all her life, she had never reacted to a man like this.

Not even once.

Was it because of his strong physique?

His neat appearance?

Or perhaps it was simply because he was unbelievably handsome?

Whatever the reason, she hated the strange fluttering sensation in her chest.

No, Isla.

You've promised yourself never to allow a man to make your heart race again.

She was almost appalled by herself.

This was shameless.

Absolutely shameless.

“Are you okay?”

Mr Swift's voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

“Y-yes,” she stammered, quickly clearing her throat. “I am fine.”

Mr Swift frowned.

“It seems you've gone pale. Don't take this too seriously. I don't want anyone collapsing because of me.”

“I am fine, sir,” Isla assured him.

The older man studied her for another moment before finally nodding.

“Okay, fine. Because of you, I will give you until next week. If my presentation isn't ready by then, however, all hell will be let loose.”

Isla nodded gratefully.

“Thank you, Mr Swift. Thank you for giving us another chance.”

She smiled, and the older man nodded.

Relief washed over her.

At least Mr Swift had decided to give them more time.

And, perhaps more importantly, he had managed to pull her attention away from the breathtaking stranger at the door.

She had barely taken another breath when she felt a small tap on her arm.

She turned.

The smile immediately disappeared from her face.

Mr Griffen.

The man she knew hated her and everything she represented in the company.

Griffen was cold-eyed, mean-spirited, and bad-mouthed. His aggressive personality somehow seemed to match his short stature.