Chapter 3: A Proposal
As the event carried on, Matteo leaned in close, his voice low. “I’ll tell you what it is towards the end of the event. But for now, I’ve got some quick business to attend to.”
“I see,” she replied, nodding, though her expression showed a hint of reluctance.
“You doubt me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and leaning against the slab of the bar with an extended elbow.
“Well, it’s not like you’ve given me any reason to trust you,” she said, sipping at the content of her glance and casting a sideways glance at him.
He laughed, a confident, almost arrogant laugh. “Well, in case you didn’t notice,” He started.
“….. these gentlemen are waiting for me. And it’d be rude for a gentleman to keep other gentlemen waiting.”
“So, you really consider yourself a gentleman?” she said, feigning surprise.
He shot her a sly grin. “Wow, you’ve got a smart mouth.”
“Why, thank you,” she replied, with a mock bow, raising the glass to him as though sharing a toast.
He gave a short laugh. “Well, whichever way you want to spin it, I really do have to go.” With that, he stepped away, leaving her and disappearing into the crowd with the two bodyguards following close behind him.
“Show off,” she thought out loud.
Some time passed, and she continued to sip her drink. When she finally finished, she turned back to face the crowd, casually observing the rest of the event.
She could have sworn otherwise, but she knew that she couldn’t help but glance around and try to spot Matteo and this so-called “business” he had to deal with. But he had seemingly vanished into thin air. The man who once never left her sight was now nowhere to be found.
Maybe he wasn’t exaggerating about that “Batman timing,” she thought, laughing internally at it.
As she continued surveying the crowd, she felt like someone joined her.
Turning her head, she met the event’s organizer, the older gentleman who had been speaking earlier—Mr. Harold Locke.
“It’s a pleasure to have you here, Isabel, isn’t it?” he asked, extending his hand.
She gave a polite smile and shook his hand. “Yes, that’s right. Isabel, from the Daily Times.”
“Ah, yes! I’ve heard good things about you, though I don’t believe we’ve crossed paths at any previous events,” he remarked.
“Well, that would be because I’m fairly new. This is my first field assignment,” she replied.
“A rookie, eh?” he chuckled. She joined in, though she wasn’t quite sure if he meant it as a compliment or an insult.
“It’s good to get firsthand experience in this line of work, especially when it involves more intricate fields,” he said.
“Yes, I completely agree. Though I can’t lie—the gala wouldn’t have been my first choice of assignment,” she admitted.
“Oh, I know it’s not the most thrilling. I’m told you have a flair for investigative journalism. But hey, we all start somewhere, right?”
“Absolutely,” she nodded.
“So, how are you finding the event so far?” he asked.
“Well, it’s been… something,” she said with a nod. “You managed to raise quite a lot tonight.” she commended.
“Yes, indeed. Every bit goes into the projects we support, just as we do every year,” he said, pride evident in his tone.
“That’s wonderful, Mr. Locke.”
“Why, thank you. I believe we’ll be hearing good things from your publication. I’ll put in a good word for you, as well,” he added with a wink.
“Ah, you flatter me,” she said with a laugh.
They chatted a bit more until he glanced over her shoulder, noticing someone. “I see you’ve taken a liking to Mr. Matteo,” he said, his tone laced with something she couldn’t quite place.
“Ah, no,” she replied quickly. “I wouldn’t exactly call it a ‘liking.’ Let’s just say… we happened to cross paths.”
“Oh, I see.” Mr. Locke raised a drink to his lips. “Well, if that’s the case, I suppose everything should be fine.”
She looked at him, a bit perplexed. “What do you mean by that?”
He nearly choked on his drink. “Oh, nothing, really. It’s just… let’s just say Mr. Matteo is a man of influence. He tends to get what he wants whenever he wants it.”
“Is he dangerous?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“Not that I know of,” he shrugged. “But with a man of his standing, you can never tell. That kind of power can be… volatile if one happens to be on the wrong side of it. And getting close to a person is often the fastest way to find that side.”
She couldn’t quite make sense of what he meant, but something about it left her unsettled.
As the evening continued, she took photos, shook hands with prolific guests, and laughed politely whenever necessary. While the excitement was undeniable, something felt off—something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. But she decided to leave it be.
As the gala wound down and guests began to leave, Isabel ordered a taxi. She made her way outside, only to hear a familiar voice call from across the street.
“Running away already, Izzy?” She turned around and saw Matteo standing on the other side.
“It would appear that I am,” she replied playfully.
“Really? What about the proposal I mentioned?”
She gave a dismissive wave. “I think I’ll pass.”
“You don’t even know what it is yet,” he said, a mischievous look in his eyes.
“Doesn’t matter. Like I said, I’m not really into the rich and arrogant type.”
He chuckled as he crossed the street with bold steps; there was a fire in his gaze. “You know, I don’t usually tolerate insults.”
“And who said it was an insult?” she challenged a smirk tugging at her lips. “Insults are a matter of perspective. To one, it might be a compliment; to another, it might sting. It’s just a matter of… guilt,” she said, lowering her voice.
He chuckled sharply. “Very funny.”
He paused, then continued, “There’s a festival happening in Italy soon—Sicily—and I’d like you to be there.”
“Really? And I’d be there as… what, exactly?” she asked.
“Anything you want,” he replied with a sly smile.
She considered him for a moment, then shook her head. “Nah, I think I’ll pass.”
“Oh, come on. What have you got to lose?”
“My job, for one,” she shot back, climbing into her taxi.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” he said, waving her concern away as if it were nothing.
“Even if I could get the time off,” she replied, “I’d still pass.”
He laughed, tapping the roof of the taxi. “I’ll see you in Italy, then,” he said confidently.
As the car pulled away, she watched him through the window, standing in the middle of the street as he watched her go.
Who does he think he is? She scoffed to herself. The mere thought that he could convince her to travel across the globe just after one evening together was laughable. Gutsy, indeed.
She loosened the carefully pinned bun Vivi had styled her hair into, letting the strands fall freely over her shoulders. She couldn’t wait to get home to the cozy embrace of her bed—or the couch, if Vivi and Dave had already taken over the bedroom.
There would be plenty to talk about, no doubt, and she looked forward to it.
