Chapter 19
MATTEO
It's late and Alex and Elizabeth have spent the last few hours trying to figure out how one of our senior analysts lost access to critical systems.
The permissions have been restored, but the cause remains a mystery.
According to the logs, nobody made the change. According to the analyst, they certainly didn't do it themselves.
Which leaves us with a problem.
Everyone else has gone home.
Alex gives me an apologetic look.
“Sorry. I can't stay late today, but Elizabeth is dealing with this.”
“No problem. See you tomorrow.”
My gaze shifts to Elizabeth. She's still at her desk, staring intently at her monitor, a slight frown pulling at her brow as she scrolls through lines of data.
“Found anything else?” I sidle up to her.
Our fingers brush, and before I can think better of it, I lace mine through hers.
“I’m still trying to figure out how the analyst lost those permissions,” she says. “The access has been restored, but there's no corresponding administrative change. It’s like someone flipped a switch and somehow left no trace behind.”
I squeeze her hand gently, loving the feel of her soft, warm skin against mine.
“What are we doing, Matteo?” she asks quietly, looking up at me.
“Damned if I know.”
Because I don't.
All I know is that I look for her the second I walk into a room. That I notice when she's tired. When she's worried. When she skips lunch. She doesn't belong in this world of billionaires and boardrooms any more than I do.
Her nose ring. Her lilac streaks. How strong and steely she is.
Everything about her.
“What are we doing?” she repeats.
I move her bangs away from her eyes. Then, because resisting her is becoming impossible, I let my fingers trail along her cheek before cupping the side of her face.
“Does it matter?” I ask softly.
A thrill shoots through me when she leans into my touch.
But she suddenly looks fearful. “What if someone sees?”
“Why are you so afraid of people being around?”
“Because you're my boss.”
“I don't care about that. Neither should you.”
She scoffs. “I do care, because this contract is important to me, but also, I don't want to be known as “the woman who slept her way in,” and in a male-dominated environment, my credibility is important to me.”
It hadn’t even occurred to me. I move away. “Jesus. Of course.” I swipe my hand across the back of my neck. “I didn’t even think of that.”
“Men don’t have to.”
“I’m sorry the world is so fucked up.” I almost reach out to touch her again, but don’t. This is going to be hard, restraining myself whenever I’m around her.
“I’m glad to hear it. Not all billionaires think like you.”
I stare at her, and my immediate instinct is to wrap my arms around her. To protect her and keep her safe. But she’d probably just kick me in the balls, because she’s tough, and she doesn’t need protecting.
Doesn’t mean I won’t. “Whatever happens between us is not going to affect that. We’ll keep things a secret.”
Her gaze dips to my lips. My cock stands to attention.
“I still want to kiss you,” I murmur, staring at her with longing.
She moves closer to me and slides her finger across my lips. I can’t help but note the perfect bow of her lips, and wonder what it would be like to kiss her delectable and seductive mouth.
“Then, kiss me.”
The words hit me like a juggernaut, and I almost think I've imagined them. Every coherent thought leaves my head as my pulse kicks hard against my ribs.
For the tiniest fraction of a second, I consider it, but then I pull away, hesitating. Her eyes are closed and her lips upturned. It's damn impossible to not obey her, but I don't want it to be like this. Not here.
Her eyes flutter open, confusion swirling around in her hazel irises. “What's wrong?”
I shake my head. “I don’t want our first kiss to be in a cold server room in a basement.”
She chuckles. “I don’t care where it is as long as no one finds out.”
I study her expression.
Her lips are slightly parted. Her cheeks are flushed. Her eyes are bright and fixed on mine, filled with anticipation. My insides are close to combusting. Blood courses through my veins, and my heart pounds like it’s trying to jump out of my chest.
The chemistry between us sizzles in the air, impossible to ignore.
“Matteo, come on. Just kiss me. We’re the only ones here. Everyone’s gone home.”
A few moments ago she'd been worried about being caught.
Now she's practically daring me.
I can't let her down, can I?
Even though I would have preferred a memorable location and setting, sometimes you just have to go with the flow. I lower my head and feel her warm, sweet breath fluttering across my skin.
My insides are going haywire.
The world closes in on me as I wrap my hands around her waist, reeling her closer. In response she lets out a soft mewl, one that speaks directly to my dick. I dip my head and lean forward, about to press my lips to her mouth when someone coughs.
We spring apart.
Joel gapes at us, looking sheepish.
“Sorry.” His gaze falls on Elizabeth. “I didn't realize you guys were still here.”
She moves away, flustered. “No, um ... yes. I was just checking the server logs.”
Me? I'm wondering what the hell Joel's doing here this late. He's usually one of the first to leave.
He shifts his weight.
“Alex asked me to verify one of the backup servers. The replication report was throwing warnings.”
I frown. “Now?”
He shrugs. “Apparently it's been happening on and off all day. He wanted me to check it before tomorrow morning.”
“Right.”
Joel nods toward the server room. “I'll stay out of your way.”
“Go ahead.” I move out of the way so he can pass the narrow space between us. He glances at Elizabeth as he passes. Her face is bright red and she turns to leave, but I grab her wrist.
“Stay,” I whisper. I can’t see Joel being too long in here, but she looks nervous.
She shakes her head. “I have to pretend I’m actually working.”
I bite back a smile. “Good point.”
She pulls her laptop closer and clicks through a few screens, though I doubt she’s reading a single word.
A few moments pass then we hear Joel's footsteps. He’s taken the other way out, past the racks of servers.
“All set. G'nite guys,” he calls. I hear the door slam shut.
“He’s gone.” I release a breath.
Elizabeth makes a face. “He saw us.”
“I know. My fault. We have to be careful.” I have to be careful not to put her in these situations.
It’s clear we both have feelings for each other, but there’s a power imbalance in play, and I won’t risk Elizabeth’s reputation.
Perception matters in the workplace, especially somewhere like this.
I’m starting to see why she’s concerned about being judged differently as the only woman here.
“Will he say something?” she asks.
“To whom?”
“I don't know. To your father.”
“What does he have to do with this?”
“He’s the one who hired me.”
“You report to me.”
“But if he finds out that you and I ...” Her voice trails off.
“You and I what, Elizabeth?”
“We’re … we’re…” She’s clearly flailing. “It hasn’t been easy for me, finding work, and being here has been the best thing to happen to me for a while. I don't want to mess this up.”
“We’ll be careful,” I promise her. “No contact at work.”
“I don’t want to mess anything up.”
I’m not sure I understand her. “How will you mess anything up?”
“I ... I’d like a glowing reference from here when I leave.”
“I’ll give you a glowing reference. You don’t need to worry about that.”
“But if your father finds out—”
“Don’t worry about him. Joel won’t say anything, unless he really has the hots for you and he’s pissed off about seeing us together. In which case, I’ll have to have some words with him.”
“I don’t think it’s me he likes as much as the idea that I'm the lone woman down here.”
“There's a lot to like.”
The colour rises in her cheeks and for a moment neither of us says anything.
“I mean it,” she says, after a while. “I don't want to lose this job.”
Something clicks into place.
This isn't about my father. It isn't about office gossip. It's about everything she fought to get here.
The contracts. The clients. The credibility. The chance she finally took on herself.
Not just being a woman in a male-dominated sector, but because of how she got here. I feel a knot in my throat thinking of the schoolgirl who loved school and the computer club that was her escape. I finally understand her fear and what she's risking.
“You won't lose it,” I promise.
“How can you know that?”
“Because I won't let that happen.”
Her gaze holds mine and for once, she doesn't argue. “Okay,” she says softly.
Reluctantly, I take a step back. “Go home, Elizabeth.”
That beautiful mouth of hers curves into a smile. “You first.”
I chuckle. “Bossy.”
“Apparently.”
Still smiling, she turns back to her desk, and I head for my office before I do something stupid.
***
Elizabeth doesn't come into work the next day, and when I ask the guys if anyone’s heard from her, Joel looks at me like I’m to blame.
It’s so obvious that he likes Elizabeth. Equally obvious that he hates that she likes me. But it has me wondering if I’ve crossed a line I shouldn’t have.
She looked so worried yesterday when Joel interrupted us. Too worried. She’s so afraid of losing this job and she didn’t just voice that concern once. It was a few times.
As if that would ever happen.
I’m starting to wonder if she hasn’t come into work today because she can’t face me.
I've been thinking about what she said, about how she needs her resume to look good. That's not something me or my brothers ever have to worry about. We could fuck up big-time, and we'd still have a job. The old man wouldn’t fire us. He might demote us if we’d really messed up, but we’d still be comfortable and taken care of.
We wouldn't have to worry about losing our job, or the consequences of that.
We wouldn't be homeless, or go hungry, or fall apart.
Through conversations with the guys under me, I understand what it means to have work, but understanding Elizabeth's fear makes me acutely aware of how relatively easy my life has been. Even though the old man’s secret double life upended both families, we still had a roof over our heads, and we’ve never known poverty or all the hardship that comes from it.
Elizabeth is different to most people I know.
She grew up in foster homes and her life must have been terribly hard.
While we’ve been traumatized by our childhood, about discovering that the man who was our father had a secret family, it pales in comparison to her childhood.
She went into foster care system at an age when I was still playing with my toys.
How the fuck does a child cope with being sent away from the only home they’ve ever known? With being separated from their parents? With being sent into new, unfamiliar, and possibly scary places with strangers?
And now that she hasn't come into work, I’m starting to worry that I've scared her off. That she regrets what happened last night. What almost happened. What if she no longer wants to work here? It’s something I can’t bear to think about.
A meeting with Alex and the developers steals my attention, but when I return to my desk I find a note on my computer screen. From Joel. He tells me that Elizabeth called in sick.
Jesus.
She must be really sick, and she doesn't have anyone looking out for her, apart from the old couple. I close my office door and call her.
“Elizabeth? It’s Matteo.”
“Oh … hi.”
Unease slides into my gut because she sounds relatively normal. She's avoiding me. Or she's embarrassed about what happened.
“You called in sick.” I shift in my chair, feeling uncomfortable. She's pulling away, not because she's fine, but because I made her feel uneasy. This contract is important to her and she can't risk anything happening between us.
“I-I’m … not feeling too good.”
I detect some hesitation. “You called Joel, and not me.” The moment it slips out, I regret sounding like a whiny four-year-old.
“When I called, you were in a meeting with Alex.”
She's right. “I was. Yes. Sorry.”
Silence.
“What's wrong?” I ask, because she doesn't sound ill at all; not that I expect her to be on her last legs, struggling to breathe, or anything, but I hate the thought that she might have regrets about what happened between us.
“I'm ...” A pause, then, “I don’t feel so great.”
“You don’t feel so great?” I parrot. She sounds just like she always does. No cough. No sound of the sniffles. My worst suspicions are getting confirmed and I’m convinced that she’s staying away because she can't bear to face me.
“I get the feeling that you don’t believe me,” she says.
I pause. How do I get out of this? “I just ... wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“I'm ill.”
“We've established that.” I feel like an idiot. “Well, rest up and get better.”
“Yes, sir.”
I chuckle.