Thirty-three
Chiara
We drive separately up the hill to Ciro’s house after dinner at McCormick & Kuleto’s in Ghirardelli Square. By the time I get in the house, he’s waiting for me at the base of the stairs.
Just the sight of him waiting for me makes my heart race. He extends his hand and he leads me up to his bedroom.
When the door clicks shut behind us, Ciro reaches for the wall switch, and soft light fills the room. He exhales, almost like he’s steadying himself. “I prefer your natural color, but this wig and the contacts do something to me.” His gaze lingers, not quite meeting my eyes. “I want to kiss you.”
I step closer, closing the space between us. He lifts a hand to my jaw, guiding my face up, and his lips meet mine, tentative at first.
His mouth finds my neck, slow and deliberate, and a soft breath slips out of me as he trails lower. His kisses are tender and sensual as they move from my lips to my neck. I close my eyes, enjoying each nibble, lick, and caress.
He hitches up my skirt as his hand moves to my back toward the curve of my ass, his hand slipping into my panties. He pushes into my folds. “You’re always so wet for me.”
I ride his hand as he drives me to new heights. “Fuck me. Please…”
“Only…after… you… come…. first,” he pants as he works my clit into a frenzy.
I can’t speak. Words won’t form, not with the way he’s looking at me. Heat spreads through me, sharp and impossible to ignore. I hold his gaze and nod.
“Ciro,” I groan, opening my legs wider for him.
My head drops back as I welcome the pleasure he’s giving me.
“That’s it…. Come for me.”
With his fingers hitting the magic button deep inside me everything explodes.
“Now, get on that bed on all fours. I want to feel you on the inside.” I drop my skirt to the floor and walk over to the bed and climb up, my heart still racing and I haven’t caught my breath.
He pushes the head through my folds. “Relax I want you to feel me.”
His hands grip my hips. I take a deep breath, and he thrusts into me.
“God, you feel so good.”
He pivots in and out of me. Our bodies slap together in a fast beat.
“Play with your clit,” he demands.
I do as I’m told, and every nerve in my body lights up. My second climax arrives quickly and harder than the first. “Ciro!”
“Say my name again,” he says through clenched teeth.
“Ciroooooo.”
“Chiara,” he groans as he stops moving.
Ciro slips his softening cock from me and lies alongside. I settle myself against him, kissing his shoulder fondly. He smiles, and I sigh with happiness, content to be wrapped in his arms.
I fall asleep in his arms—safe, warm, and not thinking about anything else.
By the time I wake, the light has shifted.
I ease out of the bed, pulling on a robe as I move quietly through the suite and down the stairs.
Voices carry from the kitchen before I reach it.
Katie stands at the counter, one hand braced against the marble while she speaks low with Jim. He leans back against the island, arms crossed, posture loose but alert. Both of them look up when I step in.
“There you are,” Katie says, straightening as she reaches for the espresso machine. “Want something? I can make you a latte.”
I nod once, sliding onto the stool across from her. “Please.”
Jim watches me for a beat. “Did you sleep okay?” he asks.
“Fine,” I say, folding my hands loosely on the marble. “What’s going on?”
Katie sets the cup under the spout, her movements steady. “We had a sighting this morning,” she says, not looking at me yet.
My gaze flicks between them. “Of who?”
She glances up as the machine hums. “Palo.”
“Where?” I ask, my fingers tightening slightly against the counter.
“Across the street,” Jim says, stepping closer, his tone even. “Sat on a bench in the park, but he didn’t approach.”
I lean back a fraction, exhaling through my nose. “And now?”
Katie slides the cup toward me, setting it down carefully. “Now, we tighten things up. Nothing dramatic. Just more eyes, more control.”
I wrap my hands around the cup. “I don’t need more eyes at the office.”
Jim smirks. “Someone’s assigned to your floor,” he says. “And they have video surveillance. It’s there but less obvious.”
“No one is going to notice, right?”
Jim nods, calm, controlled. “We’ve got it covered.”
I take a slow sip, letting the heat settle, even if nothing else does.
By the time we step into the garage, the morning looks like any other.
Jim opens the rear door of the Escalade and gestures me in. “After you,” he says, one hand on the frame, scanning the street over my shoulder.
I slide across the leather, smoothing my skirt at my knees as I settle. “You’re making a show of it already.”
“It’s a car,” he says, climbing in beside me and pulling the door shut with a solid click. “And we can talk a little more.”
I angle toward the window as the driver pulls us into traffic. “What else do we have to talk about?” I ask, tracking his reflection in the glass.
“What do you do if Palo gets into the building?”
I turn my head, meeting his gaze. “He won’t recognize me,” I say, lifting my chin a fraction.
Jim watches me for a beat and then shakes his head once. “If he’s on your floor, he recognizes you.”
I let out a short breath, glancing toward the window. “That’s assuming he gets that far.”
“It’s planning for when he does,” Jim says, his voice steady as he leans back an inch. “So I’ll ask you again.”
I look back at him, irritation tightening my shoulders. “What?”
“What do you do,” he says, holding my gaze, “when he’s standing ten feet away and looking straight at you?”
I open my mouth and then stop. He already knows I’ll be panicking.
He nods once, like he expected that. “Exactly. You hesitate.”
I straighten, pushing off the door slightly. “I wouldn’t—”
“You just did,” he cuts in, not raising his voice, just tightening it.
“That’s why someone is visibly on your floor,” Jim says, leaning forward again, closing the space. “The entire time you’re there.”
I shake my head, sharper now.
“It is. Because you don’t get a second to figure it out.”
I hold his gaze for a second and then glance down at his hand on the console. “So that’s your solution,” I say, tapping the edge of the seat with my finger. “You put someone on me full-time.”
“You’ve always had someone on you full-time, but now, they’ll be visible,” he says, correcting without looking away. “There will be someone on every floor stationed at the elevator banks.”
I still, my fingers pressing into the seat. “Every floor,” I repeat, slower.
“Yes.”
“Does that seem extreme?” I say, tilting my head, holding his eyes.
“They’ll rotate,” he says. “No pattern. No predictability.”
I lean back into the seat, creating space that doesn’t actually help. “People are going to notice that.”
“They won’t,” he says, sliding his hand back to his knee. “They’re already in the building. This just changes position.”
I drag my thumb along the seam of the seat, jaw tightening. “That seems extreme.”
Jim watches me and then nods once like the reaction tracks and reaches for the handle as the car slows.
I don’t answer. I push my door open the second we stop and step out before he can move.
He falls in beside me, close enough to manage without touching. “You’re pushing back,” he says, low.
“I’m here to work.” I push through the glass doors without breaking pace and jab the call button a half-dozen times.
Jim stops beside me, folding his arms as he watches the numbers drop. “This doesn’t change.”
The elevator arrives and we step in. “He doesn’t even really know I’m here. He only suspects.”
“We don’t know that,” Jim says. “He got close enough to be seen, and that’s not nothing.”
I hold his eyes as the floors tick up between us. “You’re building this into something bigger.”
“I’m making sure it doesn’t get the chance,” he says.
I walk off the elevator and walk straight through to the bullpen, dropping my bag on my desk a little harder than I need to.
George glances up over his monitor, dragging his glasses down his nose. “You bring him with you,” he says, nodding toward the elevator.
I look up, and Jackson is standing there. “No, I didn’t bring anyone.” I lie, as I pull my laptop toward me and flip it open.
Janet leans back, folding her arms across her chest. “Security must’ve gotten a budget bump,” she says, tilting her head toward the hall.
I type in my password, fingers sharper than usual.
Before anyone answers, Heather’s door swings open.
“Team,” she calls, one hand braced on the frame, her tablet tucked against her chest. “I’d like you all to come in here. Now.”
Bethany rolls her eyes as she slides off her chair. “She’s in a mood,” she mutters, grabbing her notebook.
“She’s always in a mood,” George says, pushing himself up and following her in.
I close my laptop halfway and stand, smoothing my skirt as I move with them.
Heather waits until we’re all inside, and then steps behind her desk, setting her tablet down with a soft tap. “I want updates,” she says, clasping her hands in front of her. “Where we are, what we need, and how I can help.”
George drops into the chair across from her, stretching his legs out. “I’m good,” he says, lifting his cup. “No help required.”
Heather’s mouth tightens as she looks at him. “George,” she says, tapping her pen once against the desk, “I’m here as a resource.”
George lifts a brow, swirling his coffee. “I’ll let you know if I get stuck.”
Bethany lets out a quiet laugh, covering it with a cough.
Janet leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Inventory variance is trending down,” she says, flipping open her notebook. “We’ll have clean numbers by Friday.”
“Good,” Heather says, making a note. “Send me your draft before you finalize.”
Janet’s pen stills for half a second. “I usually finalize before sending,” she says, glancing up.
“Send it anyway,” Heather says, not looking up from her tablet.
George exhales through his nose, long and obvious, and leans back farther in his chair.
She turns to him, holds his gaze a beat longer than necessary, and then looks down at her tablet again. “Bethany.”
Bethany straightens, crossing one leg over the other. “Campaign performance is up twelve percent,” she says, tapping her notebook. “We’re ahead of projection.”
“Send me the breakdown,” Heather says.
“I already did,” Bethany says, tilting her head.
“Send it again,” Heather says, her tone clipped.
Bethany smiles, slow and pointed. “Of course.”
Heather’s jaw tightens as she swipes her screen, and then her eyes lift to me. “Cara,” she says, folding her hands together. “You have a request from Luca.”
I still, my fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the chair.
George lets out a low whistle, leaning forward. “Ohhh, the big boss has asked for you by name,” he says.
Bethany claps once, quick and bright. “Look at you,” she says, grinning.
Janet nods. “Way to go.”
Heather doesn’t look at them. Her gaze stays on me. “He wants you on an audit with marketing,” she says, each word precise. “Direct collaboration.”
I meet her eyes. “When do I start?” I ask.
“He’ll set up meetings,” she says, her lips pressing thin. “Keep me posted and be sure to copy me on everything.”
George shakes his head. “Pulled straight up,” he says, half under his breath.
Bethany leans toward me, bumping my shoulder lightly. “Don’t forget us when you’re important,” she says.
“I won’t,” I say, not looking away from Heather.
Her gaze flicks past me suddenly, toward the glass wall behind us.
“What is that,” she says, stepping around her desk and pointing toward the floor outside.
We all turn.
The same man stands near the elevators, posture unchanged, eyes scanning without landing.
Heather crosses her arms, irritation cutting through her expression. “Why is there a man just standing there?” she says.
Bethany leans to the side to get a better look. “There’s one on every floor,” she says, tapping the glass with her nail.
Heather turns back, brows lifting. “On every floor?”
I roll my eyes before I can stop it, shifting my weight onto one hip. “That’s overkill.”
George huffs a laugh.
“Probably a delivery,” I say, not looking up.
George snorts, pushing his chair back with a scrape. “I never thought about that.”
“Get back to work,” Heather says finally, turning back toward her desk.
I don’t wait.
The guard’s eyes track me again as I approach.
“Good morning,” he says, straightening just slightly.
I press the call button, not looking at him. “Is it?”
I step out on the executive level. Jasmine looks up, starting to rise, but I’m already past her.
“Give me a minute,” I say over my shoulder, not slowing.
Ciro’s door is closed.
I push it open hard enough to hit the wall.
He’s already on his feet behind the desk, phone in hand, like he’s been waiting for the interruption.
“This is too much,” I say, crossing the room and planting my hand flat on his desk. “You need to roll it back.”
His gaze flicks past me to Jim and then back to me as he sets his phone down. “What are you talking about?”
“Floor coverage,” I say, turning to face him fully. “Rotations. Escorts. All of it.”
He stops in front of me, his hand resting on the edge of the desk like he’s anchoring himself. “That’s not excessive.”
“It is for someone sitting on a bench.”
“He was across the street,” Ciro says, his tone tightening. “From my house. Maybe he’s trying to intimidate me. We don’t know, and I don’t want to find out.”
“In a public park—a popular Pacific Heights park,” I shoot back, lifting my hand in a sharp motion. “That’s not escalation.”
He closes the distance instead, his hand sliding along the desk until it brackets mine.
“It’s coincidence,” I say, shifting my weight forward to hold my ground. “He’s looking for me. We know that.”
“And now, we know where he’s willing to go,” Ciro says. His hand tightens on the desk for a beat before he lets it go.
I shake my head, pulling my hand back from the desk. “You’re reacting.”
“I’m adjusting,” he says.
“He didn’t approach me or you,” I say, pointing toward the window behind him. “And you’re treating it like he already has.”
“He chose to be seen,” Ciro says, stepping in until there’s no space left to soften it.
I hold his gaze, refusing to give ground. “It’s still too much,” I say. “Roll it back.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “No.”