Chapter 44 #3
“I was interrogated for hours,” I whisper, my stomach feeling like it's full of acid. I take a few steadying breaths.
His eyes sharpen. “And that's why you hate enclosed spaces.”
I nod.
He remembers.
He always listens and remembers.
It's one of the things I love about him; how he was in the elevator with me, how he helped me through the panic attack, the way he'd held me while I struggled to breathe.
“Yes.”
My voice comes out quieter than I intend.
“The room was small. Windowless. They kept coming back with the same questions, over and over again.
I was terrified. After that, I couldn't stand being trapped in small spaces. While Vlad protected me and the others, it also reminded me how dangerous that whole world is, and I knew I had to change things.”
A long silence settles between us.
“You were cautioned?” he asks carefully.
“Yes, but no conviction or criminal record. Vlad served roughly a year.”
He frowns.
“You had no degree. No corporate background. No traditional qualifications. Yet somehow my father hired you anyway.”
I stare at him. “What are you saying?”
His jaw tightens. “I'm saying there may not have been a criminal record to find. But Paul Knight doesn't need a criminal record.”
A chill runs through me. “He had people investigate me?”
“I don't know.” But he sounds like he does. “I think he found something.”
“Why wouldn't he tell you?” I ask.
“Because that's not how he operates.”
The answer comes too quickly; as if he's thought about this before.
“He gathers information. He keeps it. Then he uses it when it benefits him.”
I stare at the floor, then look up at Matteo, still none the wiser. “You think he knew?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me.”
“But why would he hire me if he knew?”
“Because you were exactly the person he needed.”
I don't like the way he says it. Not one bit. And because I don’t know what to say next, I sit there, watching him, waiting for him to say more.
But really, what I want to do is wipe away the sad expression on his face.
I want Matteo to smile again. I want us to be …
The stray thought stops me in my tracks.
It’s going to be a while before I will get over this man.
“My greatest fear in life,” he says, finally, “was becoming my father.” There’s a faraway look in his eyes. He holds a pen in his hands, twisting it open then closing it.
I know it hit him hard, what I said to him earlier. “I didn’t mean that,” I say, quickly. “I just wanted to hurt you.”
“No. It’s true,” he insists, still playing around with the pen.
“It’s not true, Matteo. I didn’t mean what I said.”
He sets the pen down, looks at me so intently, I forget to breathe.
“It’s true. I realize now that I did exactly what he does. I looked at a situation, decided what made sense to me, and acted on it without caring who it hurt. I became him.”
“You did not.” He’s punishing himself, and I hate that I’ve had a hand in making him think this way.
He looks at me. “Didn’t I?” Then his voice drops.
“I can’t bear it when the people closest to me, the people I love and—” He stops abruptly, like he’s said too much.
“When the people I love and trust,” he continues, as fireworks explode inside my heart, “do something to shatter that trust. I can't deal with it, because that’s what my father did to my mother, and I never want that to happen to me.”
I finally understand where he’s coming from, and my heart fills with so much love for him in this moment.
Love.
For this man. We've never said those words to one another, but I feel that for him. And he's just told me, indirectly, that he feels it for me.
“I don’t get close to people, not quickly,” he says, playing with the pen again. “I take my time in getting to know them, but with you, it happened so fast. I felt we clicked. We were similar in so many ways. It’s almost like … like we were destined to meet.”
I contemplate his words, and file them away in my heart. We did click. And we are similar. And everything happened quickly, almost like it was fated to.
He lets out a heavy sigh. “But I thought you were lying to me … and that you weren’t the person I thought you were. I couldn’t get that out of my head. It was like a program looping around continuously.” Another pause, then, “But not anymore.”
“Who do you think I am now?” My voice drops to a whisper.
“Someone who isn’t capable of such deception. I wish … I wish we could start over. I wish you would forgive me.”
I stare back into those dark eyes, trying to slow down the speed of the thoughts whizzing through me. Is there a clear way forward for us?
“Tell me what I can do to make it up to you,” he asks, almost like he can read my mind.
My eyes start to well up, so I blink a few times to stem the tears and stop them from falling. “I-I'm not sure.”
His expression crumples, like I’ve delivered a fatal blow. This wasn't the answer he expected.
“Don’t walk away,” he says.
I fold my arms, more to hold myself together than anything else.
“I’m not asking for us to go to dinner tonight or go for a walk in Central Park like everything’s okay.
I know it’s not,” he says, his voice sounding raspier with every word.
“I’m not asking you to forget what I did, or to pretend it didn’t happen.
I’m not asking you to give me a pass. I behaved like an asshole and I didn’t treat you well. ”
I open my mouth, then pause, because I'm not sure how we move on from here. I understand why he behaved the way he did, and I see now how I perpetuated the secrecy and lies. But how do we move on?
“What are you asking, Matteo?”
“I’m asking for nothing. I’m just telling you that I was wrong. I made a call based on fear and incomplete information, and I hurt you. And for that, I’m so, so sorry.”
I study his face, and the look in his eyes. He’s so stripped back. So vulnerable. This is a man who knows he’s messed up and he’s being painfully honest.
“I also messed up,” I confess. “And I don’t know where we go from here, either. I don’t know what this looks like now, but you need to know something, Matteo. If I wanted to destroy your company, you wouldn’t have one.”
His lips part in shock. Then he laughs. “I believe it, because you’re so fucking sassy. So fucking super smart. And I was so lucky to have you.”
Was.
It pains that he’s talking about us in the past tense, but I need to leave him with no doubt of how he made me feel.
“You need to understand,” I continue, “not because I need you to believe me now, but because that’s who I am.
You never understood why I cared so much about optics, about reputation while we were together, but I built myself up from nothing.
I built myself piece by piece, and that’s all I have.
My reputation is everything I’ve ever had to protect. ”
His eyes widen, and he looks to be hanging onto my every word. I inhale a long breath, feeling unsteady. “I’m not telling you this to convince you of anything, or because I need you to believe me. I’m telling you because I deserve to say my truth.”
He nods. “You do, and I see that.”
“I need time,” I say finally.
There's a weighty pause before he answers. “You can have all the time in the world.”
And then, because he looks so despondent, I try to reassure him. “It doesn’t mean I’m walking away, but I can’t pretend that this didn’t change things between us.”
“I know it has.”
“Let’s just take it one moment at a time.” I get up slowly and head for the door.
“Elizabeth.”
I turn around, with my hand on the door.
“Thank you, for everything.”
I stare at him for a moment longer. This guy has issues, but so do I, and together, we’re a mess.
A beautiful mess.