Chapter 3
MATTEO
Damn. Now that’s a distraction I didn’t need.
As I rush towards the elevator, a woman bends over just in front of me, to pick up something she’s dropped.
The sight of shapely calves catches me unawares and for a split-second admiration replaces simmering anger as I find myself admiring the line of her legs.
The fabric of her skirt molds to her curves and her killer heels accentuate her calves. She straightens up, and stands.
I forget my sour mood as I rush past her and catch the elevator. A tiny thought in my head makes me wonder if I should have let her go in before me.
I manage to get in, but it’s packed tight. Frustration bubbles up inside me again. I’ve been up since 4am. Couldn’t sleep. The technical issues at work are giving me sleepless nights because the old man’s been on my back to get this issue fixed. Now the guys are on my back, too.
It’s not like I’ve been sitting around doing nothing. Sometimes, I wish I didn’t work here. For him. I wish there were no extra complications above the actual job. Working for him means being constantly reminded of old wounds, of family betrayals and unspoken resentment.
The doors start to slide together when a bag gets shoved through, preventing them from closing.
What the hell?
The doors open again.
“Sorry.” It’s a breathless whisper, and then Shapely Calves squeezes in. It was already tight in here and now she’s taking up space we didn’t have.
“Thanks,” she mutters, gazing up at me, because I’m standing right in front.
Hazel.
Her eyes are hazel orbs flecked with burnished copper.
It’s the first thing that strikes me about her, and my heart stirs inside my chest, confusing the hell out of me.
Dark hair, pale skin.
Another striking thing about her.
I catch the sparkle of her nose ring. That’s not something you see around here.
Hers is hard to miss; thin and silver, it glints in the light.
Impossible to ignore. Her eyes startle and she looks like she’s not sure if she should look away or look closer.
Maybe I’m staring too much. I force myself to focus on the elevator doors.
What the hell is wrong with me this morning?
I shake my head, hoping to clear it.
And why is she thanking me?
Maybe she thinks I pressed the button to open the doors.
I dig her nose ring. Corporate won’t approve. I could warn her, but it’s none of my business. Corporate don’t think I fit here either, with my chains and tattoos, but who gives a fuck?
She now has her back to me but not before I catch a whiff of her perfume. Something clean, and floral. Something expensive. She has the audacity to stand directly in front of me so that her pert little butt is only inches from my ...
I swear to God, if she moves back a few inches, I’ll have to nudge her away. I stare at the glowing numbers above the doors and try to focus on those instead.
The old man. The technical glitches.
As expected, silence falls. Nobody talks.
A low hum bounces around the cramped space but as the elevator whooshes up, people start getting out floor by floor.
To my surprise we’re halfway up and Shapely Calves is still here.
She’s moved away and is standing to my side now, busy staring at her cell phone.
At least the elevator is almost empty, and I can breathe again.
I shoot a quick glance at her, trying to figure out which floor she’s heading to.
She’s probably an intern. Someone desperate for work experience.
Someone who wants to make an impression in that black fitted blazer and pencil skirt.
I wince when I see the sharp points of her heels.
Those things could leave serious dents in the flooring.
Still, I doubt I’ll see her again. Can’t see how she’ll end up working here, especially with that nose ring.
I briefly consider telling her, but my heart starts racing again and I figure I must be coming down with something.
***
ELIZABETH
My stomach twists into knots and my mouth has gone dry.
I’ve learned the art of not falling apart, of not being reactive and I’m usually good under pressure. But I’ve been running through my presentation on the journey here and I’m having second thoughts.
This interview is an opportunity I never thought I’d get, and it could help me so much. I need to impress Mr. Knight, and this presentation is my last chance. I was up until three in the morning redoing my slides, and then I overslept. I had to rush like a maniac to make it here on time.
At least I know where to go.
I’m in the final stretch.
This is the last interview. That’s what the email said.
I smooth down my blouse and try to breathe.
It’s so crowded in here, and my shoes are so uncomfortable.
I wish I’d worn my sneakers. I’m going to have to dress like someone I’m not.
But it will be worth it. I’ll make myself fit in, like I’ve had to for most of my life.
I take a deep breath and mentally try to prepare for what’s ahead by running through my presentation in my head for the fiftieth time.
People get out, occasionally jostling me from the side, interrupting my focus. I move aside, giving them a way through, but the tall guy I stood in front of, doesn’t flinch an inch.
I wish I had his composure.
Someone else gets out of the elevator and it’s just me and him.
I lean my back against the wall, my curiosity getting the better of me as I shoot a glance in his direction.
He’s facing the doors, so I only see him from the side.
He presses the button to close the doors then tucks his hands into the front pockets of his dark jeans. He’s wearing a charcoal-colored shirt.
No tie. I’m sure I caught a faint glint of metal around his neck when I rushed in.
My eyes take in his rolled-up sleeves and I see a tattoo of four feathers; the intricate ink curl on his skin steals my attention.
He’s wearing a couple of thin bracelets, too, similar to the ones I have in matte leather. His sit low on his wrists.
I force my focus back to my interview, but within a few seconds, I’m wondering where he works. He’s not suited and way too casual for a place like this. He probably works in office maintenance or something.
Heat coils around my neck because I like a man with tattoos. I also like a man with thickly veined forearms.
Ordinarily, this is the type of guy who would catch my eye, but this isn’t an ordinary day.
He has the type of build I like. Tall, lean and wiry, rather than bulky.
I like the way he’s dressed. Non-conformist. Rebellious.
Someone who doesn’t belong in a corporate tower full of suits and spreadsheets.
The presentation. Focus on the presentation.
And now he’s caught me looking at him. I turn away quickly, feel the flush in my cheeks, but not before his lips widen into a smile.