7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
D om
Sophie’s warm breath spreads across my face as my grip loosens around her wrist while her eyes adjust to the dim lighting of the room.
“I—”
She starts to speak, but nothing comes out after the first word.
I lean in, just enough for our faces to nearly touch. Her perfume hits me—something soft, expensive, and utterly out of place here.
“Looking for excuses?” I murmur, my voice low, unyielding. “Don’t even try. I know why you’re here.”
She schools her expression fast, but not fast enough. I catch it—the slight jolt in her eyes, the flicker of panic she tries to bury under a half-hearted shrug.
“To party?” she offers, casual as sin.
My eyes drag over her. The dress clings to her curves like it was sewn onto her. The black fabric shimmers faintly under the low light, stopping scandalously short of modesty. Her heels are impossibly high, eagerly showing off legs that wrapped around me nights ago.
And around her neck, a thin diamond chain. It’s delicate in the semi-darkness, but in a room with flashing lights, it would command attention without trying.
Heat rushes down my throat and floods my body, making it hard to think, breathe, or do anything remotely human and rational.
“Is that a crime?” she pushes.
I chuckle, but there’s no humor in it. The sound comes from deep in my chest.
“Party?” I repeat, tilting my head. “That’s what you wore this for?”
My gaze lifts to hers again, cold and steady.
“Yeah,” she insists, against the audible thuds coming from her chest. “A party. What did you expect me to wear? A long, ball gown? Party frocks? Halloween costume?” Her chest arches with every question, challenging me.
It’s a battle of words, yet all I can focus on is how her cleavage sits in her dress and how dry my throat feels.
I need a fucking drink.
Grinding my teeth, I release her wrist and step back, dragging a hand down my face like that might help reset the fire simmering under my skin.
“Cut the crap, Sophie.” My voice drops into a low growl. “What are you really doing here? And don’t say party—” I jerk my chin toward the faint thrum of music in the distance “—because it’s that way. You can hear it.”
She hesitates just for a second. Then tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, like that might stop it from trembling.
But I see it.
“Maybe I wanted some quiet?” she whispers, looking away to conceal her lie. When she turns back, her face is set to continue with it. “I needed to clear my head for a moment, and I got lost looking for the bathroom.”
“If that’s a crime,” she adds with a sassy one-shoulder shrug, “then sue me.”
I might’ve bought it. If I weren’t looking for the signs, I might’ve accepted her lie and let her go.
However, I know who she is.
Sophie Bellini. I’m not allowed to forget that—no matter how much the damned dress makes me feel like a horny teenager, or her smart mouth practically begs to be kissed.
And the truth is, I smelled her before I saw her.
I had to leave the meeting to attend to an issue on the other side of the bar, but returning was where I smelled her.
Soft and sweet. Fun and flirty. The caramel candy notes floated across the hallway, with vanilla and brown sugar, teasing my senses until I couldn’t push the reminder of that night from my head.
Then I saw Sophie, by the door, with her ear pressed to the wood.
“Who are you working for?” I demand.
Her frown is automatic. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean, Sophie Greco,” I say coolly, stepping towards her again. “I told you I’d be watching you, didn’t I? I did some digging, and it turns out—” I pause, my gaze fixed on hers, letting the silence stretch. “You’re not exactly who you say you are.”
For a second, there’s nothing between us but the sound of tense air.
Then she scoffs—loud and incredulous—like the accusation physically knocked the air out of her. “Seriously?” she snaps. “You’re going to keep playing that card?”
I arch a brow, saying nothing. Just watching.
“You know what your problem is?” she bites, her voice rising.
“You have insane trust issues. You hired me, Domenico Moretti. You . I know I lobbied for the position, but you had the final say. But ever since day one, you’ve been watching me like I’m some threat.
Pushing. Testing. Antagonizing me every chance you get. ”
She takes a step toward me now, chin up, eyes blazing. The dress clings to her like a second skin, but she doesn’t flinch under the weight of my stare. “You should’ve turned me away the second I showed up at your door.”
I would’ve. The only reason I didn’t was because I could tell there was more to what she presented. Something that bothered me to the point where I was willing to place her under probation until I could figure out the truth.
Also, if these were other circumstances, my behavior would be improper, even considered bullying. And that’s her point: bullying in the workplace. She’s putting on a good show of being upset, too, given that her motives are dishonest.
“Are you sure?” I ask quietly as I lean in, once again thrown off when her scent hits me. It smells the same, but with a hint of something else that rides under my skin. “Are you confident that if I were to do a deeper dive into you, I wouldn’t find things you desperately want to conceal?”
“My private life is none of your business.” She’s not denying it. Huh. My tongue tucks in my cheek as my mouth twitches in a wry smile. She’s spinning the story in another direction, forcing me to confront a moral issue.
And I might’ve backed down if I didn’t know that everything about her was a lie.
Down to her very identity. Our eyes remain locked for a minute, and I lean in another fraction, watching every flutter of her lashes, the imperceptible flare of her nostrils, and the beads of sweat that gather across her forehead, despite the cool temperature of the room.
I could break her.
I just need to push further—break the last barrier between us.
My hand lifts and reaches her face, but I don’t touch her.
Not yet. Sophie inhales sharply as my thumb strokes the air, a hair’s breadth from her cheek.
Even in the semi-darkness, I feel the heat radiating from her cheeks and hear the keen sigh that slips out.
It sounds like longing—like the feeling that raised the hairs on my skin before crawling under them. It feels tight, pulling my gaze to where her lips part—a force almost beyond my control. My head dips with a mind of its own, and her eyes close in surrender.
Then my phone rings, abruptly ending the moment.
I pull back quickly, surprised that I lost control that easily.
I clear my throat. “The party’s the other way.
And,” I turn with a scowl. “If your plan was to eavesdrop on the meeting, then I suggest you consider this a warning. The next time, I won’t be too forgiving. ”
I walk away as her eyes harden, closing the door more forcefully than planned.
Raff swivels as I open the other door, giving me a look that clearly says, where the hell have you been?
“My apologies, gentlemen,” I say as I pull my suit jacket together. The two investors sit on leather chairs on either side of a large glass table. “I got sidetracked.”
Raff arches a brow. “Really?” He doesn’t say it out loud, but I can tell from how his lips purse that he doesn’t buy the excuse.
I ignore him, taking my seat. I take a deep breath to steady myself, but all that comes is a whiff of caramel candy.
My eyes dart to the door, and my gaze sharpens instinctively. Sophie.
She wouldn’t dare, would she? It would expose her position and leave room for the investigation she tried to avoid earlier.
Or maybe it’s just me.
My fingers still bear the warmth from her wrist, and I can picture her pinned to the wall, her chin tossed high and her eyes bright.
Lust. The realization hits me like a freight train, pushing the air from my lungs without mercy.
It’s not just the brush of my skin against hers or the inexplicable feeling that makes my airways too thin to breathe through.
It’s attraction.
Somehow, I find myself very attracted to Sophie. Not a one-night stand-had-too-much-to-drink scenario. No.
It’s the kind where my thoughts get interrupted with memories that have the blood rushing to places it shouldn’t focus on.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter under my breath.
“You don’t agree?”
I snap out of my thoughts when I hear Raff’s comment, and my forehead creases as I face him. “What?”
“You said something just now,” he says. “I’m asking if you have any reservations about their proposal?”
What proposal? I shake my head slowly as I try to recall where I zoned out of the conversation, but the truth is that I wasn’t listening. At all. I got sidetracked somewhere between walking in and sitting down, with no idea how much time had passed.
Was that why Raff didn’t buy my excuse? Because I’d been gone for so long but I didn’t seem to register it?
“What do you think?” I pivot the question to him. “I trust your judgement,” I add with a smile at his hesitation.
“Sure,” he shrugs. “Ah—” I slip out of the conversation again, falling back to my thoughts. I need to get things straightened out. Holding feelings for Sophie, no matter how superficial they might be, would be shooting myself in the foot, then in the head.
Which means I have to get to the bottom of her ruse as soon as possible.
***
“Okay,” Raff stops me as I stand up after the meeting, beating me to the door. He folds his arms. “You need to tell me the truth. You’ve been acting weird since you returned from the trip you took with Sophie—”
“You mean the work trip?” I cut in, setting him straight.
He shrugs. “Sure, let’s call it that. You’ve been acting weird since then, heck, since she joined the company. What is going on?”
“Nothing,” I say. “But I’d like to go home and take a long nap, so if you could get out of the way…” I walk towards him, but he spreads his arms out in protest.
I cock my head slowly as my stare narrows, sending him a silent threat. “Nope,” he shakes his head. “You were out of it when you walked in. Whatever distracted you, it wasn’t just a fight at the bar. You looked… ruffled,” he explains as his hands drop.
“I’ve been your friend since college, Dom, and the only thing that has ever ruffled you was when you thought your first investor meeting was going to fail, and even then,” he clicks his tongue, “you didn’t have me covering up for you.”
It wasn’t a fear that the investors’ meeting would go wrong. It was a rumor about an attack brewing on the Morettis. I was eighteen, three years past my parents’ death, and I had to keep my father’s legacy going. I met with other heads working the underground, forging allies, and signing treaties.
“Let me help,” Raff places a hand on my shoulder. “I’m your best friend.”
I exhale slowly. There’s no point in doing it on my own. I don’t intend on telling him the whole truth, though. “Sophie. I need you to keep an eye on her—a closer eye,” I clarify.
The corner of his mouth turns in a confused, deliberating frown. “Okay, that’s a bit weird. I thought you were done being suspicious?”
“You want to help?” I snap.
He raises his hands. “No need to get defensive. I’ll keep an eye out. You must have a good reason anyway.”
What better reason is there to give, other than the fact that she’s the daughter of a murderer?