Chapter 14
MATTEO
Elizabeth knocks on my open door and I call for her to come in. She’s still working on the audit, and seems to get on with her work. I’ve done my best to leave her to it.
Done my best being the key phrase. Because it hasn’t been easy. Part of me keeps finding excuses to drift past her desk, to check what she’s doing, to ask pointless questions just to hear her talk.
I’m wasting time I don’t have, because there’s too much going on in my life right now and I can't afford to be distracted.
This is not me, and I'm so glad my brothers work above the ground, where I have little to no chance of them seeing me.
But I see how every hot-blooded guy turns and gapes at her as she walks by.
Joel is like an irritating little lapdog.
Elizabeth is distracting. More than she should be, and the last thing I need is distraction, especially from a sharp, stubborn, beautiful little tech nerd with a nose piercing and too much intelligence for her own good.
I’ve noticed that, after her first week at work, when she was toeing the corporate line, she’s now reverted to her own style.
She wears sneakers, dark jeans and t-shirts or baggy sweatshirts. I guess I don't set a great example for business attire. The grads wear trendy hoodies, chinos and pristine white sneakers. Elizabeth's outfit of choice is not too different from mine.
I've noticed she also has leather bracelets. Funny, I didn't notice them in the elevator on that first day. Like her dyed hair, she must have tried to hide them. She also now wears her nose ring most times. I straighten as she steps in, my eyes drinking her in. She wore suits only for a few days.
“I’ve found something I think you need to know about,” she says.
“What is it?”
She sits down. “There are a few anomalies that keep recurring.”
I sit up. “What kind of anomalies?”
“The same systems keep showing up in reports that shouldn't be connected.”
I frown. “What does that mean?”
“It could mean nothing.” She flips through her notes. “Or it could mean there's a relationship between the incidents we're seeing that we haven't identified yet.”
“You're not sure?”
She hesitates. “About the pattern? No. But the more I look into this, the less these incidents feel independent.”
My stomach tightens. “Meaning?”
“Meaning there may be another way into the system that we don't know about.”
“Another way?”
“A hidden access route.” She meets my gaze. “A backdoor.”
“That's a hell of a claim, Elizabeth.”
She taps her notebook. “I'm not one hundred percent sure, but I'm ninety-eight percent sure.”
This sounds serious, so I get up and shut the door, before leaning against the edge of my desk, and note how she's sitting, legs crossed, her notebook resting on her lap. Eyes down, flicking through her notes.
She says something about needing to be sure, but all I can do is see how she's holding her pen, how that little sliver of lilac still streaks her hair. When she wears it in a ponytail, I can’t help but note how long her slender neck is. A neck I see myself planting delicate kisses on.
“It's just so odd...” she says, letting out a heavy breath,
What's odd is that she has no idea of what's going through my head.
I pull myself back to the present, and that's when her eyes flick to mine.
I immediately lose focus again. Then force my mind, once more, to concentrate on the issue, when I suddenly see a sight that makes me even sicker to my stomach.
The old man.
He’s hovering just outside the door, looking in, watching. Our eyes meet and he walks in like he fucking owns the place. Which, technically, maybe he does. He was never going to knock and ask for my permission to come in. He walks right in.
“Ah. The very person I wanted to see,” he says to the back of Elizabeth's head. She startles at the sound of his voice and turns around in her chair.
“Elizabeth,” he says, barely looking at me. “Sorry I canceled on you last week. I thought I’d come down here to see how you’re getting on.”
“I’m … I’m good, thank you,” she answers, then glances at me. Her eyes asking: what do I tell him?
“As you can see, we’re in a meeting,” I say, standing up now.
What is he doing down here? He’s only been down to the tech lab once in all the time I've been here. I’m starting to wonder if he thinks I have something to do with the security issues.
It’s not outside the realm of possibility.
Nothing is, where this man is concerned.
“I won’t take up too much time,” he replies, not even bothering to look at me. “Found anything yet?” he asks, hands in his pockets, his manner smooth and polished.
Elizabeth shifts in her chair, turning it around so that she can face him. “Nothing to report as yet. I’m making progress, but it's slow.”
Nothing to report as yet?
She's not telling him.
I wonder if she’s holding back on purpose? Does she also not trust him?
The old man clears his throat. “We've been sitting on this for months—”
“It hasn’t been months,” I snap. “It's been maybe just over a month, but we've been looking into it.”
“Could have fooled me.” His eyes twinkle as he says it. Whenever this man opens his mouth it’s always to make someone feel small, or worse. He’s never been complimentary, or constructive in his criticism.
I fist my hands inside my pockets. “Then maybe I have fooled you.”
The old man chuckles. “See what I’m dealing with, Elizabeth?”
There is no love lost between us.
“We’re working on it.” I grit out, teeth clenched.
“I need you to get this sorted and fast, Matteo.”
What the fuck does he think I’m doing? “She’s your consultant. You hired her, why don’t you tell her what you want done?”
Elizabeth’s expression changes. She looks visibly hurt by my words. It was a low blow. One I shouldn’t have struck. In sniping back at my old man, I've taken my anger out on Elizabeth. She’s not the one to blame here.
He turns to Elizabeth. “I hope you're making progress, no matter how slow.” He opens the door and leaves.
“Thanks,” Elizabeth says. I detect a sharpness in her tone as I return to my chair.
“For what?”
“She’s your consultant, you hired her, why don’t you tell her what you want done?” she echoes my words.
“I'm sorry,” I say, feeling bad about it. “That was out of line. That man brings out the worst in me.”
He always gets under my skin, he always manages to rattle me, even though I try to keep it in.
This is one of the few occasions I haven’t been able to.
I don’t understand why he felt the need to come here.
Why he’s micromanaging me. Why he hired her behind my back.
And the more I think about it, the more the answer stares me in my face: Paul Knight doesn’t trust me.
His son.
He’s suspicious, and paranoid. The worst combination.
I lean back in my chair, surveying her. Elizabeth doesn’t feel like an employee to me, and judging by the way she’s so direct with me, she doesn’t quite see me as her boss either.
Even Alex, who’s been here longer than I have, wouldn't dare talk to me like that, and he's older than me.
I'm her boss, for one thing. I’m also three years older than her. It was one of the first things I checked when I looked through her resume. Twenty-eight to her twenty-five.
“It doesn’t mean you can take it out on me.”
She puts me right. “You’re right. It doesn’t. I’m sorry. My father annoys the hell outta me.”
“I can see that. He seems to have that effect on you every time he gets within an inch of you.”
She heard us arguing that day, when I discovered he was interviewing, for the third fucking time, behind my back, and it was her. That shocked the hell out of me.
“He and I have a complicated relationship.”
She sits quietly, her expression softer now. “At least you have a relationship.”
“I wouldn’t call it—” I stop, remembering that she’s been in foster care. “You’re right, at least I do.”
She watches me quietly, and I would give anything, anything, to know what she’s thinking.
“I’m sorry.” The urge to apologize surprises me. “I shouldn’t have spoken about you the way I did.”
“You already apologized.”
I fumble for words. I’m so used to being cool and holding my composure, and it confuses me how I am anything but that around her. “I'm heading out to meet one of my brothers for dinner. I bailed on him yesterday, so ...”
“Don't let me get in the way.” She stands up.
Damn Enzo. He wants to grab a steak at a new place in Manhattan, but I'm tempted to bail on him again and just stay here instead.
“You're not in the way.”
She looks at me. That wasn't very professional, but it's the end of the day and my willpower is almost gone.
“Do you like steak?” I suddenly ask.
“Steak?”
“The meat that comes from a cow.”
She giggles. “I know what it is.”
“Okay. Good.” What is wrong with me? I feel strangely flustered, like a teenager about to ask a girl out for the first time. My pulse kicks up a gear, and I’m suddenly hyper aware of her standing across from me, watching me.
Enzo strolls in at that very moment, with his usual effortless elegance, dressed in what looks like a navy Brunello Cucinelli blazer and open-collared white shirt.
“Does no one bother to knock anymore?” I groan.
“Sorry. Wasn’t thinking.” Enzo gives me an apologetic look.
“Just had the old man come by,” I explain, folding my arms, trying to piece together my credibility. I was just on the verge of asking Elizabeth if she wanted to join Enzo and I.
Why the hell would she?
“Here?” Enzo asks, hands in the pockets of his tailored trousers, looking as if he’s stepped straight out of a luxury menswear campaign. “What for?”
“He was checking up on Elizabeth.”
Enzo looks at her, blinks a few times, then walks forward and extends his hand.
“You’re Elizabeth?” he asks.
She nods, shaking his hand.
A smile spreads across his lips. “The super smart one.”
I suppress a groan. I’d told my brothers that she was smart. That’s all I said, when they asked how the new hire was doing. Then I’d changed the subject.
Elizabeth holds her notebook to her chest, and shifts her weight, looking suddenly self-conscious. “I don't know about that.”
“Matteo said you're—”
“What are you doing here again?” I snap.
“Making sure you don't bail.”
“I apologize for my brother,” Enzo says. “And I’m sorry that you have to work for such an uptight ogre. It should be a crime.”
“Ha ha.” I growl.
“Matteo's not so bad,” Elizabeth replies, glancing at me. I notice that her cheeks are flushed.
“No?” There's a lift in Enzo's voice. His gaze bounces between her and me, then settles on me again, a mischievous glint in his eye.
She doesn't answer, refusing to get drawn in. Smart girl.
“Enjoy your steaks.” She winks at me. “Have a good evening,” she says to Enzo, before leaving.
“You were going to ask her to come along,” he states, sinking into the seat she just vacated.
“No.” I grind down on my teeth again.
“She knows we're having steaks. I'm not stupid, Matteo. You like her.”
I turn off my computer and grab my phone and keys.
“Stop it. You're starting to sound like Rio.”