Chapter 18
ELIZABETH
I have a meeting with the asshole today.
I rushed home from the bar early last night because I had to get away from him.
Matteo made things so awkward. Everything was going fine at Sonny's engagement drinks.
All the tech guys were there; guys I don't usually talk to apart from saying a quick hello and goodbye in the coffee room or when we're having lunch.
I was having a great time until Matteo turned up.
At first, I was disappointed when he didn't show.
We've been avoiding one another. I've been avoiding him, for sure.
I couldn't bring myself to look at him for fear that he'd know I'd been thinking about him ever since that night at the wine bar when we had dinner together.
It wasn't dinner, dinner. It wasn't a date. He took pity on me because my stomach was rumbling.
But still ...
How that evening ended made me even more certain that he thinks about me in the way I think about him. I couldn't sleep. So much so that I needed my vibrator to get me off, because I was so slick and hot and horny for him by the time I got home.
But last night, when he showed up at the bar, hours later, I'd already had a few beers, and Joel was funny. He likes me, but I don't feel that way about him. He wasn’t in my face. He wasn’t bothering me. He's just expressive and loud, but I'm not worried about him.
When Matteo turned up, my body suddenly came to life.
I'd been enjoying myself, but him being there added another dimension to my evening.
I was so painfully aware of his presence.
The sound of his voice cut through the noise of the bar.
The scent of his cologne drifted my way.
I found myself tracking his movements without meaning to, stealing glances whenever I thought he wasn't looking.
Even though we ended up sitting at the same table, a few chairs apart, our gazes kept locking.
Something has changed between us, and things have been weird ever since. Matteo has no idea I went home feeling like a cat in heat, so aroused that I had to take care of myself just to get some sleep.
I keep wondering if he feels the same, because something passes between us. Something invisible. A current that makes my heart race and every nerve ending come alive.
But when Joel joked about me working there full time after the audit, I wasn't prepared for Matteo's cold and cutting remark. It's like he hates me, and I didn't understand why. I don't know what I've done to upset him.
“Elizabeth,” he says, his voice so close behind me that it makes me jolt. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. How long has he been here?
We have a meeting.
He mentioned something about it last night. It was the first thing I checked when I got to work this morning.
A 10am meeting with Matteo.
I can't go to that.
“Elizabeth, I don't have all day.”
He's talking to the back of my head, because I'm frozen in place, undecided. That voice, that tone, talking to me like with such indifference. It’s too late to back out now. I stand up, grab my pen, grab my notepad, and turn around. “Yes, sir.”
“What did you say?” He stares at me in disbelief, his face twisted in annoyance.
“Sir. Isn't that how you're behaving? Like I should jump every time you snap your fingers.”
His jawline tenses. “In my office, now.”
“Yes, sir.” I follow him, undeterred, refusing to back down.
He closes the door behind me. “You can't talk to me like that in front of everyone.”
I spin around. “What do you want me to do now, Sir? Are you going to bend me over your desk and smack me with a ruler?”
When I'm mad, I don't care what I say. Or to whom. Matteo's eyes turn big, and round, like he can't believe what I’ve just said. I can’t either.
“What’s gotten into you?” he growls.
“You’re behaving like a Dom,” I hiss. All the bitter frustration pent up inside me releases. We’re both facing one another, still standing near the door, neither of us wanting to back down or back away.
He looks at me, perplexed.
I attempt to enlighten him. “The controlling partner in a BDSM—”
“I know what a Dom is,” he snaps. “And I’m not that.” He exhales loudly, raking his hand through his hair as he sits in his chair. With his sleeves rolled up, his forearms and tattoos are on full display again.
My Achilles heel.
I look away and start to chew the inside of my lip instead.
“What's with the attitude?” he asks, finally.
I force my eyes to his. “What’s with your attitude?”
“What attitude?”
I take deep breaths, long and slow, without making it obvious. I’m trying to calm my rising anger. This guy affects me in the most unnerving of ways.
“Your attitude, last night. Do you remember last night? Or have you blocked it from your mind?”
“I'm not one to drink myself to oblivion. I remember everything clearly.”
“Then you'll know why I have attitude.”
He raises a brow, head tilting, and I resist the urge to let out a frustrated groan.
“You don’t think you were being an ass?” I move towards his desk and place my hands down, glaring at him.
He gapes at me, eyes blinking more quickly now. But he still doesn’t say anything. He has no idea, no understanding of how his behaviour affects me emotionally.
“You embarrassed me,” I hiss, mindful of everyone sitting outside in the open-plan office. Aware that they can see us. “You undermined me in front of the others, and you made me feel small when all I’ve ever done is prove myself, time and time again.”
The color drains from his face.
“You were cold and rude,” I continue. “I'm not begging for a permanent job here. Neither was Joel, I don't think. He was merry. Happy. Slightly buzzed, but you? You were downright obnoxious towards me.”
“I-I'm sorry,” he says, shaking his head like he’s struggling to process my words. “I didn’t think it would come across—”
“You didn’t think! You didn’t think of me, of how it would make me feel.”
“I’m so sorry, Elizabeth.” He looks crushed, and his apology is sincere and soft and unexpected. It’s almost like he’s been trying to keep it in and couldn’t any longer. “I was out of order. I shouldn't have spoken the way I did.”
At that, the hard edges of my confrontation melt away. “I'm not saying you needed to tell Joel I could work here—that’s not why I'm annoyed. It’s because you were so harsh in your tone and manner. Condescending almost, as if you hated me.”
“I could never hate you,” he says, quickly.
I wait with bated breath for him to say more, but he doesn’t. He can’t even bring himself to look at me.
“I was having a great time until you turned up,” I tell him. My insides are roiling, my hands, still planted on his desk. I feel stuck in a mess that feels too thick to wade through.
“I’m sorry that I ruined your evening.” He sounds miserable.
“I didn't let you ruin my evening. I just didn’t need that.”
A pause stretches out painfully.
“Why did you say all that?” I question, finally straightening myself so that I’m now standing.
He pauses for a moment before answering. “I didn't like the way Joel was talking to you. The way he was flirting with you.”
“He wasn't flirting with me!”
“From where I was sitting, from what I was seeing ...”
“You were watching?”
“How could I not? You were both sitting there, side by side, looking cosy.”
I snort. “Seriously? Looking cosy?” I frown, staring down at him. “He was talking about …” I pause, trying to remember. “… TV programs, movies, I can’t remember.”
“Why can’t you remember? Weren’t you listening to him?” he asks.
“No.”
“Why not?”
I open my mouth, but hold back as the realization hits me like a sledgehammer.
Matteo is jealous.
That's what all of this has been about. The way he behaved, and his reaction.
He's jealous.
Because he thinks I like Joel.
This man is not as clever as I thought.
I feel so happy inside, so stupidly and deliriously happy. “Because I was too busy trying to not think of you.”
My heart misses a few beats and my breath holds. His eyes pin on me, and I can tell that he feels it too; whatever it is I’m feeling. My insides tingle at the thought that this isn't a crazy one-sided infatuation.
His fingers find my hand, and it’s like I’ve been touched by electricity. Heat rushes through me, sharp and sudden. I suck in a breath. There’s so much arousal, so much awareness, just from his fingers lightly grazing my skin.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he says quietly. “I don’t even know since when. Since the wine bar. Since we got trapped in the elevator. Since you joined. And last night, last night was too much, with Joel stuck to your side like glue.”
I giggle, but I don’t know what to say to him, even though my heart sings. It feels like it wants to do the Mexican wave inside my chest, like something jubilant and wild rises inside me.
“I thought it was just me,” I whisper.
He cocks his head, like this is a surprise.
“Yeah,” I say softly. “I thought it was just me. I was hoping you'd come to the drinks, and when you didn't, I was disappointed. I was waiting for you …”
I lower my voice and glance out of the window, feeling paranoid that people might see us, but everyone has their head down and is engrossed in their work.
“You were disappointed?” he echoes.
I turn to him.
“I wondered… did I mess something up? But, you know, I couldn’t face you.”
A knock at the door, makes us jolt apart, like we’ve been caught doing something illicit. And even though we haven't, it still feels like it.
I quickly walk away and sit down.
Matteo opens the door.
“Sorry to interrupt.”
It's Alex.
His gaze flicks briefly between us before settling on Matteo.
“There’s been another tech issue.”
My body tenses in anticipation.
“What kind of issue?” Matteo asks.
Alex steps into the office.
“We've had another permissions issue. One of the senior analysts was suddenly locked out of several systems this morning.”
Matteo's expression hardens. “By whom?”
“That’s the problem.” Alex shakes his head. “According to the logs, nobody made the change.”
A chill crawls down my spine.
Matteo glances at me.
The same thought flashes between us.
Another anomaly.
Another event without an obvious cause.