Chapter 39
ELIZABETH
Matteo looks like a mess.
My anger melts as soon as I see him. Dark shadows along his jawline tell me he hasn't shaved in days and the dark circles under his eyes, he hasn't slept much either. His clothes are wrinkled, like he’s worn them for days.
This is not the man I know.
I hate even more that as soon as I walk into Matteo’s office and see him all my carefully assembled anger frays at the edges because God, I’ve missed him.
I want to ask if he's eaten, if he's okay, if seeing his mom gave him the answers he was seeking. I want to reach out and touch his face, wrap my arms around him but I can’t do any of that.
I have to be strong. I'm not here to declare my feelings for him.
That's gone, maybe forever, because once I prove my innocence, I have to ask myself: does he deserve to be with me, when he doubted me?
I deserve better. So I lock every soft feeling away and lift my chin as I face him.
“Are you going to suspend me, or fire me?”
For a nano second, surprise skims across those green-brown irises and it tells me that he wasn't going to do either. I wonder what he's playing at, whether his father knows, and who else.
“I want you still working here, under surveillance, while I review things.”
I feel a burst of relief, because I wasn't expecting this. “Sure.” This is good news for me, because this is exactly where I need to be to prove that I'm not behind this.
He gestures toward the chair opposite his desk. “Sit.”
I hold my ground. “I’d rather stand.”
He tilts his head, but his expression is unreadable. “Fine.”
The silence stretches as we quietly assess one another. I'm hyper aware of everything that's happened between us. Of the fact that I've been in his bed, that he's been inside me, that I've rained kisses on his tattoos and learned the shape of his body in the dark.
Now here we are, talking like people who no longer trust one another.
I hate it.
“I didn’t do this,” I say. The words sound stronger and steadier than the way I feel.
Matteo doesn’t answer straight away, but his dark eyes meet mine. He’s sitting at his desk, his collar slightly open, looking unkempt.
Not smiling.
Did I expect him to?
I wasn't sure what to expect, but I really can't tell if he's surprised to see me. He doesn't seem fazed, and when his eyes meet mine and hold, I'm the one who clasps her hands together.
“That’s what I'd expect you to say.”
I feel like someone's standing on my chest because it's suddenly gotten harder to breathe. He's not even giving me a chance to launch a defense. He doesn't even think I'm innocent.
“You don’t believe me.”
He turns away slightly, as if the accusation is too uncomfortable for his ears.
“I didn’t say— “
I interrupt, stepping closer. “But you think it.”
The words hang between us like a machete. There's no misconception that we're over. There's no coming back from this. He's treated me like most people in my life treat me—with suspicion. A ready-made judgment of the person I am.
“Elizabeth…” He sounds careful, like he no longer trusts me. He drags a hand over the back of his neck. “This is bigger than what happened between us.”
“What happened between us?” I let out a short, incredulous laugh, a flash of heat ripping through me. “What happened is that you abandoned me at my friend's wedding, and believed what you were told, without giving me a chance to—”
“Don't,” he warns, his jaw tightening.
“Don’t what? Don’t point out that you accused me unjustly—”
“I told you what Alex told me.”
“You believed him at his word,” I snap. This. This is what I never expected from him. He's not so different, after all.
“He's my right-hand man,” Matteo says, his voice tight.
“He keeps a close eye on everything.” He hangs his head, exhales a loud breath, and I see it clearer now.
The way his shoulders are slumped. The dark stubble over his jawline.
Eyes that look empty. He's running on fumes.
There's no sign of the man who swept me away.
He stares blankly at his keyboard, and I'm certain he's checked out of the conversation already. I can feel the exhaustion rolling off him.
“Didn't you even consider that there might be another explanation?”
“It's not like you came clean about anything,” he pushes back.
My mouth opens and I start to protest.
“I discovered things about you from your friends,” he snaps, before I can say a word. “Not from you.”
I clamp my lips together. I should have told him about my past earlier. I should have, but with suspicion falling to me, now is not the right time. I'll have to prove my innocence first.
I wait for him to say something but he sits there quietly. He doesn't look like he's had much sleep.
“You leave me at a wedding,” I say, “Then you disappear to another country and come back looking like hell. And now you’re going to put restrictions on my access like I’m some kind of criminal.”
“Are you?” he asks. There’s a look in his eyes I can’t decipher.
“A criminal?”
Has he heard something? Found something? My heart begins to beat faster.
“You're in the logs,” he says.
I rest my hands on my hips. “I'm framed in the logs.”
He looks away for half a second, then back at me. “I’m trying to handle this properly.”
“Properly?” I repeat.
“What would you rather I do?” he growls, his voice turning cold for the first time. “Pretend there’s nothing there?”
I clench my lips together. Of all the people who’d ever looked at me and seen more than my past, I never thought Matteo would be the one to believe the worst.
“Say it,” he urges, when I stay silent.
“I hoped you knew me well enough not to need convincing.”
I can tell my word landed like punches. But I'm hurting too, and I'm tired of having to prove that I am worthy.
I thought I'd found love, real love, with him, for the first time ever. Everything before Matteo had been fleeting. Nothing serious. Nothing that mattered enough.
But he did.
With this man I caught a glimpse of the future, of something lasting. Something worth risking my heart for, and now I feel like a fool for believing in it.
My heart breaks a little when I look at him. I see the tiredness in his face, and the hard line of his mouth. This is a man who holds everything in because somewhere deep down he learned too young that the ground can shift beneath you if you believe the wrong person.
I’m starting to get an inkling into why this cuts him so deep. He hasn’t fired me, or dragged me to his father yet. He should have, but he seems to be keeping this quiet. I rub my forehead, suddenly realizing that this isn't about him thinking I broke into the system.
This is about the trust he had in me.
Matteo has seen firsthand what secrets and lies do, and now he thinks I'm that person. I'm like his father.
I take a step back, my hand lowering to my neck. “You know what the worst part is?” I ask.
“What?”
I pause, because I catch myself remembering Central Park and hotdogs. The care package and the hot water bottle. The man who looked at me like I was his world.
I swallow, trying to gain a semblance of composure.
“I could handle being investigated. I could handle restrictions. I could handle half the company whispering behind my back if that’s what it came to.
” My voice shakes, and I despise how weak I sound.
“What I can’t handle is that you looked at me and believed that I did this. ”
He frowns. I detect a slight shake of his head, until he stops himself. “Elizabeth.”
I waggle a finger at him. “No. You don’t get to say my name like that.”
I wonder if he's fighting the urge to move closer, to touch. I wonder if he's struggling to hold back, like I am, and hoping that this is a bad dream we'll soon wake from.
“Elizabeth,” he says, standing up from his chair.
“Don't.” I point a finger at him again. “I’ll prove that I didn't do this, and I'll find whoever is trying to frame me.”
His fingers grab the edge of the table, but he doesn't say a word. Just watches me in silence.
“You’re just like all the others,” I mutter. The color drains from his face, so I twist the knife in further. “Only Vlad ever believed in me.”
His lips part, and I think he's going to snap, say something cruel and cutting, something that will hurt me as badly as I’ve hurt him.
But he doesn’t say a word. He just stands there and takes it.
And that makes me feel worse. His lips press together, a muscle ticks along his jaw, and his eyes harden.
It's not because he feels nothing. It’s because he feels too much.
He's protecting himself, just like that little boy did when his mother's heart broke.
I turn on my heels and leave, before I melt and give in to him, like every cell in my body is yelling at me to do.
I nearly collide with Alex on my way out. My heart lurches, and anger flashes through me when I look at the man who made the accusation. He hesitates, as though he isn’t quite sure of how to deal with me.
“How are you doing?” he asks, finally.
A bitter laugh escapes me. “How do you think?”
He winces. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “About everything.”
“I bet you are,” I mutter, racing back to my desk, not wanting to waste another second of my time with him. I sink into my chair, and power on my laptop, when Alex appears again, to my total shock.
“I couldn't sit on it. I'm sorry if I ruined your vacation.”
I shrug. “I didn’t do it, whatever it is that you're alleging.”
“We have to follow protocol.”
I stare at him. “Do you believe me?”
He shifts, just slightly. “It’s serious. You understand that.”
He doesn't believe me. Why do they both so willingly, so easily believe this?
“I didn't do this,” I insist. “Someone is trying to make it look like I did.”
“You really think so?” He looks concerned, his gaze sweeping around the open plan office.
“I know so, and I'm determined to find out who.”
“Let me know if you need my help with anything.”
I give a derisive snort. “I don't have access to much, so this could take a while. Unless he fires me.”
Alex rests a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “Just let me know if I can help. I'm only following orders.”
I examine his face carefully. At this point, I don't trust anyone. “I appreciate that, but it won't look good if you’re fraternizing with the enemy.” I glance over my shoulder to find Matteo staring at me.
Alex nods and walks away. I start to get to work. I need to look over logs, timelines, access windows and affected systems. That's just for a start. I want to see where my credentials were used, from which nodes, and whether there were privilege jumps or mirrored sessions.
I won't be able to do most of that with limited access, but I can make a start.
I glance around the office, watching everyone. They greeted me when I walked in. A few gave me knowing looks, and for a moment I wonder if they suspect the same thing that Matteo does.
Then it hits me.
It's not the investigation.
It's the fact that Matteo and I disappeared on vacation together and returned on the same day.
Our secret, if it ever was a secret, is out.
Everyone knows.
I was sleeping with the boss.
Not that it matters anymore.
It's almost the end of the day. I was determined to come in, because I needed to see Matteo's face. Needed to look into his eyes to see if he believed I was capable of this. He was.
Sonny passes by my desk. “Why bother coming in so late?” he asks.
“Had stuff to do.”
“Know what your problem is, Elizabeth?”
“Another problem?”
“You work too hard, and you look too serious.” He moves closer, lowers his voice. “What's going on? First Alex and the boss, then you and the boss. You all look like someone died. What's going down?”
I shrug. “Just vacation blues.”
He peers at me. “Don't believe you.”
“Trust me, there’s nothing to report. You're going home early,” I comment.
“It’s only thirty minutes early. I stayed late last night, so I'm leaving early today. See you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight.”
Sonny never stays late, neither does Joel. Seems I'm finding everyone's motives to be suspicious.
Just like Matteo.