8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
S ophie
The phone drops from my hand slowly, and a feeling of dread spreads through my chest. My fingers sink through my hair, and my head hangs down, muffling a sound of despair.
“What have I done?” I moan.
I knew last night was a bad idea. Actually, I thought it was foolproof.
But I didn’t factor in the part where I’d get caught by the man I was spying on, then get dragged into a room where anyone could hear my heart beating from a mile away. It was sloppy work at best, and my excuses felt like a sorry attempt to gnaw my foot out of a trap.
“Who did I think it’d fool?” I mutter as I lift my head, massaging the migraine tearing my head apart. I’ve been thinking about it since last night, and I still have the deleted files in my inbox to show them.
I thought about quitting, even went ahead and wrote emails as drafts to myself, then deleted them afterward.
Because if I were to quit out of the blue after being accused of spying, it would confirm my guilt. And someone like Domenico Moretti wouldn’t let it go. In no time, he’ll find out everything, and I would’ve not only jeopardized the plan but also blown my cover.
How do I know he hasn’t found out already, though? It’s not every morning you get a call from your boss’s office, asking you to show up immediately.
I press my nails between my teeth, biting down on them. He knows.
Maybe not everything, but he’s found enough to get the rest from me. As I race to my inbox trash, my fingers fly across my keyboard, pulling out the last email I drafted:
Letter of Resignation.
Dear Mr. Moretti. Thank you for the opportunity…
“No!” I protest, slapping a hand to the screen. I can’t quit, not now when I’ve only just begun.
“His father killed your parents,” I remind myself. “His family took everything that belonged to you, and it’s only right you take it back.”
It’s called retribution.
Besides, he could be up to his usual tactics, pulling impossible deadlines from his ass so I end up looking like an idiot.
And if not, I’m prepared to use every lie in my book of tricks.
Dom might be successful, smart, and maybe good at tripping up people, but he didn’t spend years dreaming of revenge.
I did, and I’m not about to let some entitled, smug, impossibly difficult man get in my way, no matter what power he claims to have over me.
My knock is brisk, and his response is immediate.
“Come in.”
A flicker of unease skitters down my spine—just a split-second hesitation—before I grip the handle and push the door open.
Dom isn’t behind his desk.
He’s standing by the window instead, one hand tucked in his pocket, the other holding a glass of something amber. The late afternoon light casts him in gold, outlining the hard lines of his back and the broad stretch of his shoulders beneath a crisp white shirt.
“Have a seat, Miss Greco,” he says without turning.
Oh?
So we’re doing titles today.
I take a slow step forward, my gaze trailing down the length of him—the tailored slacks that hug his hips just right, the rolled cuffs of his sleeves revealing strong forearms, the faint flex of muscle as he raises the glass to his lips.
I drag the chair forward an inch before I sit, letting the sound slice through the silence like a provocation.
He doesn’t react or look at me.
Just keeps staring out the window, holding me hostage in the quiet.
“Sir?”
“There’s a file on my desk. It’s your next assignment. It should be easy for you, since it’s a much smaller company than the one you last worked with. It might be a bit trickier, though—” He turns, his eyes locking into mine. “But I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
How he says it—low, edged with something that hums beneath the surface—makes heat lick my neck. His instruction is momentarily forgotten as my mind flashes back to last night.
Not the interrogation or being forced to come up with a lie on the spot. But the way he cornered me against the wall, the knowing smirk that crept up his face, and the heat… god, it’s always hot, that crawled down my body and slipped between my thighs.
I felt it long after he walked out of the room, a duller ache from the morning after when we had sex.
“Miss Greco,” he repeats, pointing to his desk. “File?”
I shift in my seat and reach for the file, snapping the tension like a rubber band pulled too tight. “Right,” I say, flipping it open with more force than necessary. At least his antics keep me on my toes.
The more stunts he pulls, the more I can remind myself who he truly is.
“It’s a construction company,” he says as I go through the briefing on the first page.
“They’re relatively small, but they’ve won two big contracts over the last three years.
I’m not sure why they’ve chosen not to expand, but they’ve brought enough reputation that I’ve decided they’re worth buying. ”
“Buy?” The chair scrapes the floor as I turn. “You want to buy the company? I thought… I thought you just acquired two? Doesn’t that seem hasty and a bit reckless?”
Dom peels his hand from his pocket as he walks across the room, his strides paced as they cut the distance between us. A shiver runs down my spine and my stomach flips as his gaze locks on me, sucking the air from the room.
When there’s only a couple of steps left between us, I grip the arms of the chair on instinct, grounding myself as hard as possible.
Then he pivots at the last second, rounding his desk instead.
What the hell is wrong with me?
“Reckless?” he murmurs as he folds his arms. “Is that your professional opinion as a corporate lawyer or your opinion as someone with a different agenda?”
It was a professional opinion.
But now that I think about it, helping Dom acquire company like trophies is the last thing I want. The more he gets, the harder it becomes to take him down.
Unless…
I shake my head promptly. “I take back what I said. You’ve been at the helm of Moretti Group for so long; I’m sure you know what’s best. I’ll look through the file—” I close and pick it up, “—and get back to you before the end of the day.”
“I need you to go through it here.” He stops me before I can stand up.
I try to hide my disappointment as I nod, placing the file on his desk again. The plan was to review the information in my office and find ways to sabotage it.
If I do it under his watchful eyes, I’ll be arguing with a man who thinks he’s always right. I could use that to my advantage , too, but not now.
“ Okay,” I say, flipping it open again. “You must be in a hurry to get it done. Some might interpret that as a lack of confidence,” I drawl as I lift my head to face him, “ sir .”
Dom gives me a cryptic smile. Before he speaks, I can already tell I stumbled into a trap. “It’s your job, Miss Greco. You were confident when you walked into my office and handed me Blackwater. Was it a two-time fluke?”
Biting my cheek so hard I taste blood— at least I think I do— I plaster a sickly, sweet smile on my face. “That would mean your judgment is lacking. And I’m sure you’re a man who takes pride in making all the right decisions.”
His smile falls off, and I give myself a mental thumbs-up.
My victory lap lasts until my eyes fall on the second page. I manage to catch the gasp before it tumbles out, but my hands withdraw from the file like I’ve been scalded.
One Construction.
I can feel my heart pounding behind my rib cage as I stare at the paper, hoping that I have mistaken it for something else. No such luck. It’s the same name, belonging to a construction company with ties to my uncle’s.
My head snaps so fast I almost get whiplash, and the question is out of my mouth before I can stop it. “Is this a joke?”
The words come out like a strangled cry for help.
“A joke?” Dom leans back, his expression unreadable. “Why would this be a joke, Miss Greco? Do you think I’d engage in something that silly at my company’s expense?”
No. Yes. I don’t know. God, I don’t know what to think. My fingers dig into my skirt as I fidget in my chair.
Unless he knows something, there’s no way he stumbled on One Construction after I came on board, or decided now was the time to make a move.
Because if this is a coincidence, then it’s the cruelest thing.
“What’s the problem?” he asks. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but it feels like he has a smug smile underneath the tight-lipped look he’s giving me.
It crawls under my skin until I’m barely holding back from saying something I might regret—something that’ll get me fired.
“Nothing,” I say firmly. “It’s… it’s what I said I’d do when I asked for the job, right?” I exhale, gathering my wits together. “Then I’ll do it.”
“Good.”
I don’t wait to be dismissed before I’m out of his office, leaving the door open. I can hardly think, much less string words together to respond to the greeting from another colleague.
When I’m alone in my office, I whip out my phone to look for a number.
“ I’ve told her you won’t be able to join us for Sunday brunch for a while because you have other things to focus on.”
That was the last thing my uncle said to me. His way of saying that I shouldn’t contact him unless it were something serious.
If this isn’t a reason for dropping by unannounced, then I don’t know what is.
***
“Sophie!”
I shift the fragile box of ice cream cake just in time before my aunt pulls me into a warm, crushing hug. Her perfume—something floral and soft—wraps around me like nostalgia. Her hands frame my face when she pulls back, and she grins widely.
“I didn’t think we were going to see you for a while! Your uncle said you were swamped with work. That you wouldn’t be free for brunch anytime soon.”
My smile flickers. He said that?
Interesting.
Because I remember it differently. He was the one who kept me away—said I needed to stay focused, stay sharp, stay out of distractions.
I didn’t mind, not really. But I also didn’t think he’d spin it like I was the one avoiding them.