Chapter 2: Confrontation
The charity program was about to kick off. An old man approached the mic and tapped it lightly, causing a feedback squeak that made the audience wince slightly. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to this year’s charity event for the annual Take a Kid Off the Streets program,” he announced, his voice booming through the hall. Applause erupted from the crowd, filling the air with a mix of enthusiasm and hope.
“I’d like to thank you all for your efforts and assistance over the years,” he continued, flipping through the pages of his speech. “Your generous donations have helped us take over 180 children off the streets of New York, making it a cleaner and safer place for everyone.”
As he spoke, Isabelle tried to focus, but her mind was elsewhere. Despite the sea of faces in the hall, a pair of piercing blue eyes found hers. Matteo Ricci. He sat across the room, his gaze locked onto her with an intensity that made her skin tingle uncomfortably.
Usually, she thrived under scrutiny—it’s part of her job. But this felt different. She couldn’t tell if it was a good difference or a bad difference, and that uncertainty unnerved her.
“Yes, as part of our donation, we will be calling up some graduates from this event to give their speeches,” the old man continued. “All of the kids we’ve helped have gone on to attend reputable universities, including Harvard, the University of Chicago, and even institutions in China and the Middle East.
Many of them have graduated at the top of their classes in their respective fields.”
Another round of applause filled the room, but Matteo remained silent. His eyes never wavered from Isabelle’s. She held his gaze defiantly, challenging him to look away. He didn’t. Instead, a sneaky smirk danced across his lips before he reluctantly joined the applause, looking as if he found the whole event rather amusing.
What is with this guy? Isabelle thought, shaking her head.
“And now, we will be presenting awards to those who have shown the most effort and support towards our campaign,” the old man said, his voice rising with excitement. “Let’s begin with the award for the most generous donor. This award goes to the individual who has supported us with over $1.6 billion in donations.”
A hush fell over the crowd as drum rolls echoed in the background. Isabelle rolled her eyes, thinking it was just some old geezer craving recognition. The reality was that these awards weren’t necessarily based on goodwill—they were about how much money someone was willing to throw around.
“The award for the most generous giver this year goes to…” The old man paused for dramatic effect, pulling out a card from a white envelope. “Matteo Ricci!”
The crowd erupted into applause, but Isabelle felt frozen in place. Matteo stood up, adjusting his suit before heading to the stage. He waved to the audience, his calm demeanor contrasting with the uproar around him.
“Thank you so much, New York City,” he began, his voice smooth and confident. I am always a fan of giving back and ensuring everyone has a fair chance in life. This forum is one of those opportunities, and for that, I’m very grateful.”
As he spoke, Isabelle felt as if he were directing his words right at her, his blue eyes boring into hers with an intensity that felt personal. Her thoughts swirled—was this some kind of game? Was he trying to make a connection, or was it just his way of flaunting his success?
Once offstage, he rejoined the crowd while Isabelle rolled her eyes again. The award ceremony transitioned smoothly into the next phase: the dinner gala.
“Networking time,” she muttered to herself, glancing at the buffet table that had just been set up. A delectable spread of Chinese rice was on display, and she was starving. But before she could reach it, a presence loomed behind her.
“Well, what could a beautiful young lady like yourself be doing all alone?” an old man asked, his voice dripping with insincerity. He was grinning, his glasses precariously perched on his nose as he tugged at his suit, trying to impress.
Isabelle simply smiled back, trying to be polite but uninterested. “Just waiting for the food,” she replied, eyeing the buffet with anticipation. It felt like an eternity, but she was sure the food was taking its time deliberately.
“How about I show you a good time, young lady? What do you think?” he suggested, his arm sliding around her waist.
Disgust flooded through her. She opened her mouth to push his hand away when a voice interrupted from behind.
“Well, I’m so sorry, Old Man Dawson, but it seems you have my date in your hands.”
Isabelle turned to find Matteo, a playful grin on his face. Old Dawson’s hand dropped away immediately, a look of confusion flitting across his features.
“That was rather fast,” Isabelle couldn’t help but think.
“Of course, of course,” Matteo replied smoothly. “I’d love to see you again and enjoy more of your generosity.” He extended his hand for a firm shake, their eyes locking for a brief moment. Isabelle sensed an unspoken exchange but couldn’t decipher what it meant.
As Dawson shuffled away into the crowd, Matteo leaned against the glass slab separating the buffet from the rest of the hall.
“So, your name is Matteo?” Isabelle asked, trying to break the awkward tension.
“Yes, as you may have gathered from that conversation,” he replied, amusement dancing in his eyes.
“How did you know my name is Isabelle?” she pressed, curious about how he had gathered so much information.
“Well, I’m a man who knows a lot of people and maintains a strong network,” he explained, tilting his body toward her and resting his elbow against the glass. “I like to ensure I know everybody at an event.”
“That still doesn’t answer the question,” she challenged, narrowing her eyes playfully.
“It’s on your name tag,” he replied, smirking.
Isabelle looked down, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Oh, shoot!” she laughed, and he joined in, the light-heartedness of the moment easing the tension.
“I thought you must’ve gone through some Batman-level detective work to find that out,” she teased, shrugging her shoulders.
“To be honest, I did think you went through all that trouble, but you weren’t giving off those weird vibes when I first saw you,” he admitted, raising an eyebrow.
“What vibes do I give off then, Matteo?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“You seem a bit arrogant,” he said, his playful tone inviting banter.
“Oh no, not this again!” she replied, exasperated.
“Mom always said I’m arrogant, and I’m not a fan of that label,” he added, feigning distress, his puppy-dog eyes making her laugh.
“Whichever the case, you do seem a bit full of yourself,” she shot back, keeping the banter alive.
“Well, you’re not wrong,” he said, shrugging casually. “It may seem that I cherish this award, but honestly, it’s not really about the award for me.”
“Oh really?” she shot back, raising an eyebrow. “So what’s it about?”
“In truth, it’s all about giving back and helping those who’ve had a rough beginning,” he said, his tone shifting to something more serious. “I don’t want people to go through what I did. So, I give as much as I can to those in need.”
His words struck a chord within her, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability in his confident demeanor.
“Wow, that’s… really admirable,” she said, impressed.
“Thanks, but don’t let it get to my head,” he chuckled, taking a sip of his drink.
“So, what business could possibly bring you in enough money to give out $1.8 billion?” she asked, intrigued.
He met her gaze with a smug look, his brow furrowing slightly. “I’m afraid that’s a conversation for another day,” he replied cryptically, finishing his drink and turning away from her.
“What?” she questioned, confused. “Was it something I said?”
Before she could pursue it further, his phone rang. He pulled it out, speaking in low tones as two tall men in dark suits approached him, whispering urgently.
“Looks like I have some business to cover,” he said, glancing back at her. “But I’d love to see you again.”
“I doubt you will,” she replied, crossing her arms defiantly.
“Really? And why is that?” he asked a playful challenge in his tone.
“Well, I’m not really used to frolicking around with arrogant men,” she quipped, a smirk playing on her lips.
“Oh really? Are we still on that?” he retorted, feigning heartbreak.
“Well, I have a proposition for you, and I wouldn’t want you to say no.”
