Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Rachel
"Where were you last night?"
"Checking up on me first thing in the morning, Leona? Since when did you become a cop?"
"Cut the crap. Rachel, do you have any idea what time it is? Where are you?"
I fumbled for my phone beside the pillow, eyes still shut. Morning light leaked through the curtain gap, stabbing at my eyes. I rolled over, and my hand hit a stretch of cold sheet. That's when I snapped awake.
"Near the office." I stared at the ceiling, my voice still rough from sleep. "Got in too late last night. Didn't feel like making the trip."
"Near the office makes you sound like you're floating?"
"Just tired. You gonna interrogate me over that too?"
Two seconds of silence on the other end. "Rachel," her voice dropped lower, "something's off with you lately."
"Everyone gets a few off days. Otherwise life would be pretty fucking boring, wouldn't it?" I didn't want to continue. My finger was already pressing end call.
The room went quiet again. I finally pushed myself up. The only trace of him was a shallow dip in the sheet beside me. On the nightstand sat a glass of warm milk with a note underneath, his handwriting sharp and careless as always.
"Morning meeting. Drink the milk."
No greeting. No warmth. Like a reminder. Like an order. Definitely not a love note.
I held the note for a few seconds, suddenly wanting to laugh. Last night he'd trapped me in his arms, mouth against my ear, forcing me to moan his name. Come morning, all he left was this cold string of words. He'd been like this the whole time. And somehow I'd gotten used to it.
At night, I was prey caught in his grip, pinned in various places, driven to peak after peak in ways I'd never imagined possible.
He'd watch me with those bottomless eyes, voice rough as gravel, making me beg him to fuck me.
But when daylight came, when the sun rose and the spell broke, he became Mr. Vitale again—untouchable, unreachable.
And I had to become Rachel Kane again, his professional, composed, dedicated assistant.
He'd used the most primal, dominating way to break down every defense I'd built over twenty years, showing me a world of pleasure and surrender I'd never dreamed existed. But this three-day vacation from reality was about to end.
Back at the office, the forty-eighth floor was as quiet as ever. I walked to my desk, opened my computer, and started on the first email of the day. Everything looked exactly like it had when I'd first been transferred up here.
I'd barely sent that urgent merger proposal draft to legal when the sharp click of heels came down the hall, stopping at my door. Samantha stood there with her tablet, didn't even knock, just rapped her knuckles twice on my desk.
"Rachel," her gaze dropped to my screen, lips curling, "this is your level of work?"
"Page six, third paragraph. You cited the wrong clause." She tossed her tablet onto my desk. "You're using last quarter's version. Are you drafting a merger document or manufacturing garbage for legal to clean up?"
I clicked open the file and scanned it. It was just a minor clause in the footnotes—something legal would catch and fix automatically. Hardly a big deal. But she clearly wasn't here to be reasonable.
"Sorry. I'll fix it now."
"Fix it?" Samantha let out a mocking laugh. "If everyone was like you—make a mistake, say you'll fix it now—what's the point of having procedures?"
I didn't respond, just pulled up the correct clause to cross-check. But she wasn't done.
"You think being transferred up here makes you special?" Her eyes slid over me. "You got here on luck and luck alone, and now you're acting like you've turned from a nobody into royalty?"
I stopped mid-edit and looked up, about to say something back.
"One footnote, and you're making such a big scene?"
Luca stood in the doorway holding a stack of files. Must've just finished a delivery run. Samantha turned, face darkening instantly.
"You're defending her?"
"What else?" Luca leaned against the doorframe, glancing at my screen. "Legal hasn't even said anything, but you're all worked up. If you're bored, why don't you redo those budget reports of yours? Save finance the trouble of cleaning up after you again."
Someone outside sucked in a breath. Samantha's expression turned ugly.
"You started the shit first, then don't whine when people laugh at you.
" Luca casually dropped the file. "Her document has a problem—just fix it.
But no. You gotta stand here throwing your weight around.
Are you trying to prove you know better than Legal, or you just don't like her?
You sure you want the boss seeing you act like this? "
Samantha's chest heaved. She laughed coldly and turned her gaze back to me.
"Didn't know you had it in you." She stared at me, every word dripping with venom. "What, you haven't picked up any real skills, but you've already mastered how to hook a man?"
"Samantha." Luca's voice went cold.
"Am I wrong?" Her eyes sharpened, practically spitting the words at me one by one. "Out of nowhere, you land this position. Who knows what you did to earn it?"
"What are you implying?" A low, cold voice cut through from the end of the hall. Matteo stood there, suit immaculate, expression unreadable, but his eyes dark enough to make you look away.
He walked closer slowly, gaze landing on Samantha first, pausing for a beat before he spoke evenly. "Since when do you get to question my decisions?"
Samantha's face went pale. Her lips moved. "Matteo, I was just—"
"You don't have the authority to second-guess me." Matteo cut her off flatly. "Do your own job. Otherwise, I'll revoke your access to the forty-eighth floor."
Samantha's face got worse. She shot me a look that could kill.
"Understand?" Matteo asked, frowning.
"Understood." Samantha practically bit out the words before turning and storming off.
"Ten thirty. Bring me the revised version." Matteo turned to me, tone even, all business.
"Yes, sir." I lowered my eyes, fingers curling unconsciously.
I'd just printed the corrected file to send to legal when I noticed people looking at me strangely in the hall. On my way back from the legal department, I passed the break room. Hushed voices drifted out.
"You notice? She moved up way too fast."
"More like someone's carrying her."
"Otherwise, how does a nobody get onto the forty-eighth floor?"
"I heard she can go to the boss's apartment whenever she wants. A few days ago, she disappeared with him for three days. Who knows what they were doing."
"What do you think? If you ask me—"
"Your coffee's getting cold." I knocked on the doorframe. The break room went silent for a beat, then came the brittle clink of cups on counters. I turned and walked away.
"Don't take what they say to heart." Someone tapped my shoulder. I turned. Amy was frowning slightly. "They clearly don't have enough work to do."
"What's with that look? Like I'm about to cry." I pressed down the sting in my eyes and forced a casual smile.
"Don't think I can't see through you." Amy handed me a pack of tissues. "But Rachel, they talk shit—are you really gonna remember every word? If you take everything to heart, how are you supposed to survive?"
I took the tissues and thanked her sincerely. "Thanks, Amy."
I stayed busy straight through lunch, still one file left to finish. I figured I'd just eat a sandwich at my desk. Then Luca knocked on my door.
"Rachel, the boss is asking if you want to have lunch together. He had the driver book a table at Daniel's."
Daniel's—one of the hardest reservations to get in New York. One meal probably costs half a month of my salary. The invitation sounded tempting. But I shook my head almost immediately.
"No thanks. Tell him I appreciate it." I grabbed my phone quickly, pretending to dial. "I already made plans with a coworker. We ordered takeout from that sandwich place downstairs."
Luca looked thrown for a second, but recovered fast. "All right." He shrugged and went back to relay the message to Matteo.
I hung up the call I'd never actually made and leaned back in my chair, letting out a long breath. I'd turned down his invitations recently a couple of times. I couldn't go. I didn't know what kind of expression to wear around him. I'd rather hide in the company break room eating a sandwich alone.
To make it look real, I went to find Amy, went downstairs to grab a sandwich, wolfed it down, then rode the elevator back up with a group of coworkers. The elevator stopped on the twelfth floor. Just as the doors were about to close, a long-fingered hand shot between them, blocking them.
Matteo stepped in. The chattering elevator went dead silent. He only ever used his private elevator. What was he doing here today? But this whole building was Matteo's. He could do whatever he wanted.
I deliberately shrank into the deepest corner, practically trying to turn myself into wallpaper. He didn't seem to notice me, just leaned against the wall, eyes lowered, thinking about something.
Finally, the twenty-fifth floor arrived.
The doors opened, and my coworkers bolted out like they'd been pardoned.
I got stuck at the back, trying to slip out behind the crowd.
Just as one foot crossed the threshold, an arm shot out from the side, palm flat against the elevator wall, blocking my path completely.
"Mr. Vitale?" The elevator doors slid shut behind me, locking the two of us in this cramped space.
He didn't speak. Just looked down at me, those black eyes churning with a hunger I knew too well—predatory, possessive.
"Avoiding me?"
"No." I denied it instantly, but my heart felt like he'd grabbed it, racing out of control.
"Really?" He raised an eyebrow. Seeing me try to back away, one hand clamped around my waist while the other slipped under my suit jacket, cool fingertips lifting my blouse and pressing against bare skin.
I shuddered like I'd been shocked.
"Don't..." I lowered my voice, panicked, trying to push his hand away.
"Then why didn't you have lunch with me?" His fingers started moving upward, every touch sending tremors through me.
"I-I really did make plans with Amy." My voice shook, heat pooling low in my belly.
"Oh?" His fingers had reached just below my breasts, circling lightly. "So are you meeting coworkers right now too?"
His fingertips tugged down my bra, teasing my nipple in slow circles. I clutched his sleeve, biting my lip hard to keep from making a sound. He seemed pleased by how I held back yet couldn't resist, leaning down, hot breath against my ear.
"Rachel," he said my name low, "you know what? The more you try to run, the more I want to drag you back and..."
He didn't finish. His fingers had already unhooked my bra, and unlike the light teasing before, he gripped my breast without mercy, pinching the already hardened peak and giving it a deliberate twist.
"Ah..." I couldn't hold it in anymore, letting out a short, choked sob. Pleasure crashed over me like a wave, nearly drowning my reason.
"Shh..." He laughed softly in my ear. "If you don't want anyone to hear, you better keep quiet."
His movements grew bolder. One hand kneaded my breast while the other undid my slacks and slid into my panties, cupping the soaked, swollen flesh without hesitation.
"This wet already?" He laughed low. "Rachel, your mouth says no, but down here you're squeezing my fingers so tight... such a dirty girl."
My legs went weak. His middle finger pushed inside my slick heat, roughly stroking the most sensitive spot. My whole body jerked, face buried in his chest, muffling my whimpers.
"Not—not here..."
"What's wrong with here?" He added another finger, pumping fast, his thumb pressing down hard on my swollen clit. "Afraid someone will hear you getting fingerfucked to orgasm by your boss? Moan louder. Let them know how badly this little cunt needs to be fucked."
His movements got faster, knuckles hitting deep, pulling out obscene wet sounds. I'd completely lost control, my walls clenching around his fingers in spasms, slickness dripping down his palm.
"Matteo... I'm gonna come... ah!"
"Say it," he commanded hoarsely in my ear, "soak my hand. Come for me like a good girl."
The final wave of pleasure slammed into me.
My whole body went rigid, my core contracting hard, gushing hot fluid that drenched his fingers and my panties.
I bit down on his shoulder to barely swallow the cry, trembling in his arms as I came apart completely.
I went limp, only his arm keeping me upright.
Just then, the elevator dinged and stopped at the forty-eighth floor.
My heart nearly jumped out of my throat. What if someone was outside... Luckily, Matteo stopped. In the last seconds before the doors opened, he pulled his fingers out, refastened my bra, smoothed the wrinkles in my blouse, even straightened my collar.
"Don't think about avoiding me. And tomorrow night, keep your schedule clear. I'm taking you somewhere."
"Wh-where?"
"You'll find out when we get there."
Before I could ask again, the elevator doors slid open. Matteo had already resumed that stern, commanding presence—as if the man who'd just fingered me to climax wasn't him at all. He walked out calmly, even pausing at the secretary's desk to add flatly:
"The three o'clock meeting. Move it up ten minutes."
I followed behind him, legs still weak, moving like a puppet.
The moment I sat down, the wet stickiness in my panties made me shiver all over.
The burning friction from his fingers still lingered inside, and I could even feel my entrance fluttering open and shut, as if still eager and waiting for him to invade again.