A Night Of Displeasure

Matt's POV

The city stretched out beneath me as I drove toward my penthouse, the skyline glowing under the deepening evening sky. The streets of Manhattan pulsed with life, but inside the confines of my car, my mind was a storm of thoughts, all of them about her.

Racheal Evans.

Seeing her again today rattled me in ways I wasn't prepared for. No matter how much I tried to push her out of my thoughts, she was still there. Her voice, her eyes, the way she looked at me like I was a stranger, like I meant nothing to her.

It shouldn't have p*ss*d me off as much as it did.

But it did.

I pulled into the underground garage of my building and cut the engine, gripping the steering wheel tightly before exhaling sharply. I needed to clear my head. To get her out of my system.

And that's what Giovana Barbosa was coming to do.

A distraction, a temporary fix for the chaos Racheal had reignited in me. By the time I reached my penthouse, I was already regretting my decision.

The moment I stepped inside, the emptiness of the place pressed in around me. Sleek furniture, expensive decor. Everything looked perfect. Yet, it all felt hollow.

I loosened my tie, tossing it onto the nearest chair before making my way to the bar. I poured myself a drink. Whiskey, neat. And took a slow sip, letting the burn ground me. This was my life now. Wealth, power, a penthouse with a million-dollar view, a phone filled with numbers of women who were eager to be with me for the night.

So why did it all feel so d*mn meaningless?

A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. I took another sip before setting the glass down and heading over. I already knew who it was.

When I opened the door, Giovana stood there, dressed to kill. She leaned against the doorframe, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Took you long enough."

She stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, the scent of her perfume filling the space. I shut the door, watching as she strutted toward the living room, her hips swaying with practiced confidence. Normally, I would have been more than willing to lose myself in the warmth of her body or that of any other woman's. To forget, if only for a while.

But tonight... tonight was different.

She turned to face me, her sharp brown eyes scanning me curiously. "You're quiet," she mused, slipping off her coat and tossing it onto the couch. She wore a silk slip dress that hugged her curves, the neckline plunging in a way that usually would have made me want to tear it off her.

But I felt nothing.

Not the usual anticipation, not the familiar hunger. Because my mind was somewhere else. She stepped closer, running her manicured fingers down my chest. "Rough day?"

I didn't answer.

Her lips curved into a knowing smirk. "Well, lucky for you, I know exactly how to fix that."

She leaned in, her lips grazing my jaw as her hands trailed lower.

And still, nothing.

I caught her wrist gently, stopping her.

Her eyes flicked up to mine, brows raising in amusement. "Not in the mood to lay tonight, Sterling?"

"I'm not," I said, my voice low, firm.

She tilted her head, studying me. "That's new."

I sighed, stepping back and running a hand through my hair. "Look, Gio... I'm just not in the right headspace tonight."

Her smile didn't falter, but something in her eyes sharpened. "You called me, Matt. You asked that we meet tonight, you knew what this was going to be.'

"I know."

"So, what changed?"

I hesitated.

Racheal.

Her name was right there, on the tip of my tongue.

But I didn't say it.

Instead, I turned away, walking back toward the bar. "It's just been a long day."

Giovana let out a soft laugh, the sound laced with something between amusement and irritation. "Please, Matt. We both know what this is really about."

I stilled, my fingers tightening around the edge of the bar.

She walked over, placing a hand on my back, nails dragging against my shirt. 'You're distracted," she muttered. "And if it's not business, then it's a woman."

I stayed silent.

She chuckled, stepping in front of me. "I've never seen you like this," she admitted, crossing her arms. "Who is she?"

I met her gaze, my expression unreadable. "That's none of your concern."

That wiped the smirk off her face.

For the first time tonight, irritation flickered across her features.

"Wow," she muttered, shaking her head. "You know, I've never had a man lose interest before we even made it to the bedroom>"

I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. "Gio..."

She scoffed, turning away. "You know what? Fine." She grabbed her coat off the couch, slipping it back on with sharp, precise movements. 'But don't think I don't know what's going on here, Matt."

I arched a brow. "And what exactly is going on here?"

She let out a humorless laugh. 'You're acting like a man haunted by a ghost."

I clenched my jaw.

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I hope she's worth it," she murmured before heading toward the door.

I should have let her leave, should have ended it there. But before she could walk out, she paused, looking back at me. And then she did the one thing I hadn't expected. She stepped closer, her expression unreadable.

Then, in a voice softer than before, she asked, "Who is she, Matt?"

For the first time tonight, I felt something other than frustration. And the truth was, I had no answer for her. Or maybe I just wasn't ready to say it out loud.

So instead, I exhaled, my voice quieter now. "I think you should go."

She studied me for a long moment before finally nodding.

Without another word, she turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind her.

I let out a long breath, my hands braced against the bar. My penthouse felt impossibly quiet. I reached for my glass of whiskey and took a slow sip, staring out at the city lights.

Giovana was right about one thing.

I was haunted.