Chapter Four
Fiona
The fluorescent lights of the office hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the scattered desks and half-empty coffee cups. I glance up at the clock on the wall and let out a sigh when I realize it's only a few minutes to four when I can finally clock out.
Who would have guessed spy work would be so boring?
Sure, it was exciting the first couple of days playing the awkward, clueless intern so I could bug offices and scan computers of the people on the suspect list. But it got boring really fast. Maybe because I thought I would be in and out of the office, but it turns out there is quite a lot of work to get through.
A part of me—the part that watches way too many crime movies—can't understand why Lorenzo and his brothers can’t just threaten the truth out of these people.
And no, not one of them is innocent. In their own ways, they've been skimming the Rossis' company, but they’re not stealing enough to raise flags.
Heck, the whole place needs an overhaul. Still, I haven’t caught whoever it is the Rossis are looking for. The bigger fish. The tuna…no, the whale. That’s not right—sharks are more ruthless. Yes, whoever is messing with the Rossis is definitely a shark.
“What are you thinking so hard about?”
“Fish,” I blurt out when a shadow falls over my desk. When I look up, I find one of my co-workers staring down at me. I try to work up a flush, to appear innocent and harmless. “I…um, was thinking about different types of fish.”
“Why?” Derrick, the dorky IT guy who's been hanging around me way too much, asks. “What's so special about fish?”
“Um, my friends and I are having a trivia night, and the topic is sea creatures.” The lie comes out smoothly, and when the man leans against my desk, I grimace.
Derrick has been doing his best to flirt with me from the moment I started my “internship” here, and a part of me is nervous for him.
It’s not going to end well for him when Lorenzo catches on to what he has been doing.
Then everyone will know that the nerdy Rossi is no golden retriever.
He’s dark, dangerous, and intense.
Possessive.
“Trivia nights are boring,” Derrick comments, leaning a hip against my desk. “A bunch of us are going out for drinks to unwind. You should join us.”
“That’s so kind of you to invite me,” I say, a sweet, innocent smile stretching my lips. “But I can’t. Trivia night is an important tradition. I’m sorry, but I can’t miss it.”
I notice irritation cross his expression, but before he can speak, another voice joins in.
“Leave the intern alone, Derrick.” I glance around Derrick to find Zack Pettibone standing by his office door, watching us.
Zack is Matteo’s chief of staff, managing day-to-day operations across all departments.
He keeps an office here on the IT floor because this is where the real nerve center of the business is—shipment tracking, financial systems, security networks.
Everything flows through here, and Zack is Matteo’s eyes and ears on it all.
For a man who handles a lot, he sure has the cleanest sheet of everyone in this office.
So clean, in fact, that it’s almost suspicious.
On the surface, the man has never so much as lost a pen, while the others have cases of reselling hardware and software under the guise of upgrades and replacements and pocketing the profit.
I imagine it would be annoying, but for a company this big, it would only be pocket change for them.
Most alarming is their disregard for the vulnerabilities they expose their computers to that makes me want to audit my own company.
Then, there’s someone like Derrick, who, with a single look into his computer, practically sang all his transgressions before I could dig deeper. Time theft, unauthorized use of resources, and even dabbling in reselling software.
Yet, in an office of little sharks, Zack Pettibone, who manages said office, is as clean as a new pin.
I’m not buying it. But I flash the man a grateful smile and turn away to pack my things. Someone in this office has been stealing and selling information to competitors and the cops. Someone who wants to see this company fail, and I will root them out with every skill I have.
Later, at dinner with Lorenzo at my apartment, I can't help but update him about the people in the office and on his list of suspects. “Why do you keep them?” I ask, pinching absently at my garlic bread. “You know what they’ve been doing, right?”
“Yes,” Lorenzo says, taking a sip of his wine and watching me over the rim of his glass. “They're all great at their work, which is why we keep them.”
“But some of them are stealing from you.”
“It’s nothing we cannot handle,” he says nonchalantly, and I look away in irritation at his words. “Fiona, look at me.” His hand grasps my chin and forces my gaze on his when I don’t immediately comply.
“We’re criminals, la mia flamma. We hire people who are brilliant at their work but would be more likely to look the other way when the shipment manifests aren't exactly the same as what arrives at port.” I look away again and start picking at the garlic bread, but he’s not having it as I find my eyes lifted to his again.
“Does it make you nervous? Knowing what my family does?”
“I mean, it’s not a secret,” I mutter.
“That’s not what I asked,” he rasps, his finger caressing my skin. I find myself seduced by his gaze and touch.
“No,” I whisper. “It doesn’t make me nervous.
It did, at first but I've known you for three years now.
I don't think you hurt people who didn't deserve it.” Not like I want to hurt every single person that works under him, but I push down my own little temper.
Lorenzo is right. It would be hard to work with an honest person with a guilty conscience and leave unscathed.
It's a necessary sin, it seems. “I'm still digging through the files, but it's going to take a while before I can pinpoint the person who’s been selling your information and stealing from your company.”
Lorenzo doesn’t point out the sudden change of subject and instead rolls with it. The rest of the dinner happens in a comfortable silence, then we get back to work.
By the time we finish, it’s late. Lorenzo stretches, eyeing the clock, and I find myself not wanting the night to end.
“Stay,” I say before I can overthink it. “It’s late, and you shouldn't drive.”
He raises an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Is that concern for my safety, or do you just want me in your bed?”
“Both.”
It’s nearly midnight when we slide into bed. With Lorenzo's firm hand around my waist, his solid body pressed against me in my small queen-size bed, I figure it's only a matter of time before I fall asleep.
I don’t.
For what feels like hours, I lie in bed staring at the wall, thinking about all the people in the IT department.
Twelve in total, and all of them flawed beyond measure.
I can’t figure out why that bothers me when I’m literally in bed with a mob boss.
A man with hacking skills that would be dangerous if he weren't disciplined.
And there it is. Lorenzo is not reckless. He’s not reckless as the Rossis’ IT specialist, and he’s not reckless as Raziel, the hacker.
To not wake him, I quietly turn around to face him.
Taking in his features in the dark, I tamp down the urge to reach up and trace those sharp lines of his jawline and the dark stubble.
I want to trace the pad of my thumb over his brows and touch his lips.
That mouth that has touched my most intimate parts in the last week we've been together. Normally, I don’t like sharing my space with others, but I’ve found myself craving Lorenzo’s presence when he’s not around.
Missing him and his touch. But hell, we never do more than touch and talk.
And I want more.
“I can hear that pretty mind of yours running,” Lorenzo says into the dark, startling me. His eyes are still closed when he speaks.
“I thought you were asleep.”
“I never fall asleep before you.” Finally, those eyes open and lock with mine in the dark. “You have no idea how many nights you kept me up on the phone. I couldn’t go to bed until I was certain that you had.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Will you tell me what you’re thinking about?”
“You,” I whisper, bringing my fingers up to touch his jawline now that he’s awake. I trace my fingers over the edge before moving them to that firm mouth I love kissing. “I was wondering why you won’t sleep with me.”
He laughs, the sound deep, but I don’t miss the tension underneath. “I could have sworn it's you who has been sleeping by my side these past couple of days.”
I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean,” I say, moving closer until there isn’t much space between our faces. “Don’t you want to have sex with me?”
His eyes flash dangerously. “Don't ever question how much I want you.”
“Then why haven't you—”
“Because when I take you,” he growls, cutting me off, “I want nothing else on your mind. Not the case. Not your brother’s company or mine.
” His hand slides up to grip my chin, forcing my gaze to his.
“When I fuck you, Fiona, you'll be thinking of nothing but me. Feeling nothing but me. I’ve been waiting for this investigation to stop consuming every waking moment so I can consume you.”
My breath catches. “The case could take weeks.”
“Then I would have waited weeks.” His thumb drags across my lower lip. “But right now, lying in this bed with you, I’m not thinking about the investigation. Are you?”
“No,” I whisper.
“What are you thinking about?”
“You,” I admit. “Just you.”
A slow, predatory smile spreads across his face. “Good girl.”
“I’m ready, Raziel. Please. I don’t want to wait any longer.”