CHAPTER 17
There were things even time couldn't erase.
The way his presence commanded a room before he even spoke.
The way his eyes burned into whoever dared to challenge him.
The way his body moved with a calculated ease—not rushed, not hesitant, always in control.
Matteo De Luca was still every inch the man she remembered.
Only now?
He was colder.
The last time Sasha had been this close to him, she had still been Alessia.
Soft, trusting, his.
Now?
She was Sasha.
Untouchable. Unshakable.
And he didn't even recognize her.
The room was suffocating with tension.
Matteo stood at the head of the long glass table, his posture relaxed but his presence unyielding.
His men were seated, awaiting his decision on the Enrico disaster.
And then, there was her.
Sasha sat calmly at the far end, legs crossed, fingers lightly tapping against the armrest of her chair.
From the moment she walked in, she had felt it—his gaze.
Studying her. Calculating her.
And yet, not recognizing her.
Something twisted in her chest at that.
She had changed, yes.
But to be so utterly unrecognizable to the man who once swore he'd know her anywhere?
It shouldn't hurt.
But it did.
His voice was even, detached.
"So, you're the one pulling the strings on this side of the city."
Sasha tilted her head slightly, giving him the barest hint of a smirk.
"Pulling the strings is such a dramatic way to put it. I prefer… influencing outcomes."
A muscle in Matteo's jaw twitched.
Good.
She had always been able to get under his skin.
Some things never changed.
But there was something else in his expression—curiosity, mild recognition.
It lasted a flicker of a second before it disappeared.
No.
He still didn't know.
Sasha forced herself to breathe.
She should be celebrating this moment.
For years, she had imagined standing before him again.
But now that she was here, face to face with the man who had shattered her—
She felt nothing but a hollow ache.
The Matteo she had loved was gone.
This was a stranger wearing his face.
A colder, emptier version of him.
She forced herself to meet his gaze head-on, her own mask perfectly in place.
"I assume you called this meeting to discuss business, not to play guessing games?" she said smoothly.
Matteo's lips pressed into a thin line.
Oh, she had hit a nerve.
Good.
Matteo's men watched them with interest.
They could sense it—the undercurrent of something unspoken.
And that was exactly what Sasha wanted.
She leaned forward slightly, her voice silk and steel.
"It's fascinating, really. A single mistake… and suddenly, everyone starts questioning their leader."
She didn't look at Matteo when she said it.
She didn't have to.
The effect was immediate.
His men shifted uncomfortably.
The silence stretched.
Matteo's gaze turned sharp—dangerous.
But he said nothing.
Because he knew she was right.
The meeting ended soon after.
Sasha stood, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles in her dress, preparing to leave.
Matteo hadn't spoken much after her last remark.
But she felt his gaze on her as she walked past him.
Not warm. Not familiar.
Just watchful.
And still, not recognizing her.
She stepped into the hallway, exhaling slowly.
Her hands were steady.
Her heartbeat? Not so much.
She hated that.
She hated that despite everything, he still had the ability to make her feel anything at all.
She let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head.
"Well, that was a disaster. If my heart could kindly stop acting like a high school girl's, that'd be great."
She paused, glancing back at the closed meeting room door.
"And if Matteo could continue being as dense as a brick wall, that'd be even better."
She exhaled, pulling herself together.
There was no room for weakness.
This was just the beginning.