Chapter 42
ELIZABETH
Matteo giving me more access helps. It helps a lot. But him telling me to keep it to myself makes me wonder now if he doesn’t trust Alex either.
Knowing Matteo, he probably doesn’t trust anyone.
I spend the next few days digging deeper, and I see that there are time inconsistencies. And also, everything looks too clean. Whoever this is, this person is good.
I slump back in my chair. It’s been another long day. I’m not usually the last one here. I’ve noticed that even when I’ve stayed here until nine o’clock, Matteo is still here.
I wonder if it’s because he doesn’t trust me, or if it’s because he wants to talk.
We’ve managed to avoid one another at work and most days I manage to block him out of my mind.
It doesn’t always work.
I know that he’s blocked me out for sure; put me out of his mind completely, because he tends to deal with people in that way.
He doesn’t get involved, he doesn’t blur the lines, but he did with me.
I find some solace in that. When I don’t fall asleep easily, I lie in bed thinking about us.
I think I hurt him. I have a feeling that what’s going on with him is more than just me being accused of this crime.
It cuts deeper than that. I sensed it in Croatia when Vlad let slip that I used to work for him and when Takumi mentioned Chicago—things about my past that I’ve never told Matteo about.
He asked me once, and I told him he had no right to it, so I shouldn’t be too hurt and surprised that he’s suspicious of me now. I shouldn’t blame him, even though I miss him so much some days that it hurts. I’ve tried to forget him, but it’s not easy when he’s always around the office.
He sits behind me and I don’t even need to turn around to know that he’s staring at me, because I can feel the weight and the heat of his gaze on the back of my neck.
I can’t forget the way he’d drop kisses along my neck, the way he’d nibble my earlobe, the way he’d kiss my neck before sliding lower and lower.
My body heats just thinking about him with his face between my legs; and the way he’d look into my eyes as he came inside me.
I fidget in my seat, feeling my panties dampen and liquid heat coiling deep in my belly.
It’s not easy shifting my focus back to the problem at hand.
And then I find myself thinking: Who could be doing this?
It doesn’t make sense. I throw names around in my head, trying to rule people out.
I’ve long thought it could be an inside job, but what if it’s someone trying to make it look like an inside job, but it isn’t?
What if this is an external threat? Who in my circle of acquaintances would do such a thing?
Vlad?
I can’t see it. Vlad would never hurt me. He only wants the best for me.
Takumi?
Why? Just because I ran into him? There’s no reason for him either.
Maybe it’s a team of people and not one person.
I consider the tech guys at work. They’re clever. They’re from Ivy League universities, though this doesn’t necessarily mean they’re super smart. Are they anti-corporation and anti-establishment, just like Vlad and I were? Is this a case of corporate hacking from the inside?
Now there’s a thought worth exploring.
“Still here?”
Matteo’s voice behind me sends shivers all along my skin. He comes by my desk and I look up at him just as Alex comes out of the server room. He stares at us both. I can see the cogs in his mind working overtime.
“Good night, guys,” he says a little awkwardly. It’s like he can’t work out if we’re together or not, like he’s a third guest at a dinner for two.
“See you tomorrow,” Matteo shouts as Alex leaves the lab. Then it's just me and Matteo.
And it starts happening again.
No matter how hard I try not to notice him, not to feel his presence, not to be affected by him, my body betrays me every single time.
He’s wearing a white tee and faded jeans.
Biceps peek out from under the sleeves. I remember the tattoos all over his body and how my fingers would trace them, how I’d kiss them and lick them, and how we’d just go crazy over one another.
The things we did in bed, the way we’d keep going after hours of hot, sweaty sex.
How I’d be sore down there and how he’d kiss it better.
He looks at me with hesitation.
“What?” I say, prompting him, and at the same time, dreading what his words might be. Has something else happened to implicate me further?
He seems fidgety, fingering his leather bracelet, looking uncharacteristically anxious. “You said Vlad is the only one who ever believed in you.”
I freeze at his words, and wonder how long he's been mulling them over.
“I believe in you, Elizabeth,” he continues. “I always did, but I need proof. I can’t blindly go against the system, against everything that Alex showed me. Just give me the proof. Find it for me.”
I hear the desperate plea in his voice, see the stress etched out in fine lines on his forehead. Lines I hadn't noticed before.
Something inside me loosens, and just as he’s about to walk away, I touch his arm, because I’m not ready for him to leave.
“How are you?” I ask, pulling my hand away. Touching his skin was like being grazed by electricity. I felt a jolt zing through me. “H-how are you doing?”
My voice feels oddly high and tinny. Like I'm forcing myself out of my comfort zone. Doing the hard thing. Who would have thought, not so long ago, that asking this question of the man who brought me so much joy, would be hard?
He stops, like he’s equally shocked by my question. “I could be better.”
“I heard the guys talking. You’re going to donate the kidney to your father.” He's doing this to help a man he despises. I wish I'd been there for him, when he came to that decision. It couldn't have been easy. I hate that we're caught in this monumental mess that has turned us into strangers.
“Yeah.”
I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. He just stares at me, almost through me, like he's not even here, just his body.
“When is the surgery?” Because I need to know. I feel so bad that he's juggling so much emotional conflict with everything at work, and me. It can't be easy, thinking about us, about what he thinks I did.
“I don’t know yet. It's not been decided. Too many medical tests and stuff going on for now.”
That would explain why I haven't seen him as much as usual.
“That’s why you’ve been away from your desk,” I say.
Much to my surprise, his eyes fill with amusement, glittering under the fluorescent lights. Eyes that pierced into mine, when he kissed me. A flutter ripples through me at the thought. I tuck a lock of stray hair behind my ear.
“You’ve been keeping an eye on me,” he says, softly, his gaze falling to my nose ring.
Heat creeps along my cheeks.
“It’s okay,” he says, when I’m unable to string together a reply, “because I’ve been keeping an eye on you.”
It lands, warm and soft, like a comforting cashmere blanket. I let out a small sigh before I can stop myself. I've been craving his words of reassurance and comfort. Words that tell me he’s still thinking of me. I didn't think I needed to hear them so much.
“I think about you all the time,” he confesses, his voice so low the reverberations rumble deep in my chest.
He thinks about me all the time.
My heart stutters.
For one giddying, blissful moment, happiness bursts through me so fiercely it makes the breath hitch in my throat.
All this time, I'd thought I was the only one.
I think about Central Park and the ridiculous pedicab ride.
The way he looked at me that day. The way he brought me a care package when I was curled up on my couch with cramps.
The hot water bottle he refilled. The snacks and magazines he'd carefully chosen.
The quiet way he'd looked after me without asking for anything in return.
How is it that we've gone from that to this?
From stolen kisses and late-night conversations to accusations and suspicion.
From feeling like we'd finally found something real to standing on opposite sides of a room, barely able to trust one another.
Hope rises inside me, that despite everything, all the hurt and anger, the heartbreak and accusations, that maybe, just maybe, we can overcome this.
He waits for me to say something, but I don’t, because it suddenly flashes before me. The phone call at the hotel suite, when he disappeared for hours. What Alex told him. What he took at face value without refuting.
What he believed.
I have such deep feelings for this man, and I can't seem to push them away but in the quietness, I hear his accusation all over again, as if he's just said it to me now. I press my traitorous lips together, in case I say something I will hate myself for.
Our trust is fractured and it's going to take a huge leap of faith to fix that.
***
I don’t sleep much that night, again.
Instead I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything again until the pattern settles in my mind with a sharp and cutting clarity.
It changed.
That’s the thing I can’t stop coming back to.
The shape of the tech issues, the timing, the objective.
When Paul Knight first hired me, I was looking at a different problem.
Someone nudging things out of alignment.
Access irregularities. Financial oddities.
I was looking into system behavior that was wrong, but it wasn’t personal.
It wasn’t targeted to me.
Then it changed.
This second phase seems cleaner, crueler, and more deliberate.
It isn’t just someone messing with the infrastructure anymore.
It’s someone using my credentials, mirroring my movements, making it look as though I’m trying to bury my own tracks.
It’s elegant, super smart, and the sort of thing I’d do.
But I didn’t do this.
And the person who did, the person who used my credentials? Somewhere, they'll have left their own fingerprints behind.
Not literal fingerprints.
Digital ones.