Chapter 5 #2
I take the olive branch and get to work the moment we end our handshake, placing my briefcase on the floor beside the door as I enter the room and grabbing the nearest bean bag.
I don’t fault my new potential ally for standing in the hall and watching for a few minutes.
If he’s worked as Matteo’s personal assistant long enough to be vetting newcomers, then he probably has many more hidden responsibilities than he lets on.
I also respect how much pride he takes in his work, since most office workers are soundly in their beds early Sunday mornings.
After placing the first bean bag near the corner of the northern and eastern walls, I count the seating options and form a rough chart in my head.
Less than five minutes later, I’ve cleared the circular rug in the center of the room and positioned the tables where they won’t impede anyone’s view of the screens.
When the odd number of stools threatens to sabotage my plan, I scoot the tallest table into the corner where the window and glass wall meet and place stools on three sides.
As I bend to grab the last two bean bags, movement in the hall catches my eye. Expecting Mr. Brunswick, I paste on a reassuring smile and turn as I lift the oversized bean bags off the floor.
My heart leaps into my throat as broad shoulders fill the doorframe. The golden flecks in Matteo’s hazel eyes shine in the early morning light.
He has no right looking so handsome and refreshed so early in the morning. After tossing and turning all night, I feel like a dirty washcloth wrung out and left to dry all wrinkled and gross on the side of the kitchen sink compared to his glowing face and perfect body.
His deliciously wrapped body. In a black button-down with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, tan slacks, and black accessories and his hair in a laid back yet tidy style, he perfectly meshes casual and professional elements.
I can’t decide if I want to lick him or throw myself through the window to avoid temptation.
I pull myself together before I drool all over myself and paste a polite smile onto my face despite the frown creasing his brow.
“Good morning, Mr. Ricco.”
I pretend the buzz in my veins is from the two cups of coffee I pounded before I walked into the building, but caffeine has never made my nipples harden or clit throb.
“The meeting starts in five minutes. Why is the room not prepared yet, Ms. Simons?”
Despite his caustic tone, his deep, rough voice—as though they’re his first words spoken since he woke up—vibrates in my core and threatens my sanity.
I grit my teeth and turn my back on him to complete my task. With the last bean bag in place, I fortify my polite smile and pivot back toward him.
Mr. Brunswick turns the corner at the end of the hall, stops in his tracks, and looks between our boss and me with alarm, obviously sensing the tension.
“The room is ready, Mr. Ricco, although it wouldn’t be if Mr. Brunswick wasn’t here.”
Hazel eyes narrow in consternation. He crosses his arms over his sculpted chest, which shifts his collar and reveals the fading bruises on his collarbone. My heart pounds against my sternum at the reminder of my drunken snafu.
When Mr. Ricco inhales as though gathering himself to give a lecture, I clasp my hands in front of me and beat him to it.
“You gave verbal and written instructions to arrive at eight o’clock. I was on the premises by seven forty as a courtesy. I will not do so again.”
Mr. Brunswick’s eyebrows launch higher on his forehead while Mr. Ricco’s tilt in consternation.
My patience snaps. I’ve experienced countless overbearing, impossible-to-please bosses, but never thought Matteo would stoop so low. He must be creating excuses to fire me so my father doesn’t give him trouble.
“As a new employee, I can only interpret this situation in two ways. Either your leadership skills are so poor you cannot give proper instructions or you purposefully withheld information with the intent of catching me in a less than flattering situation, neither of which are fair to your long-term employees nor the individuals attending this meeting. I suggest finding less destructive ways to humiliate me, sir.”
A muscle ticks in Matteo’s jaw and fury shines from his eyes, but I don’t regret standing up for myself, so I hold my ground.
Mr. Brunswick picks his jaw up off the floor and starts forward.
“Noted, Ms. Simons.”
Despite his short response, he conveys mountains of displeasure and hatred in his expression and tone.
I nearly miss his next words as he speaks to his assistant over his shoulder.
“Mr. Brunswick, place the drinks on the table and give Ms. Simons the roster. She will greet the members and give them their coffee,” he says.
My mouth dries and nervous jitters join the caffeine racing through my veins, but I suck down a steadying breath and firm my resolve.
Instead of backing into the hall and disappearing, Mr. Ricco drops his arms to his sides and steps into the room.
Despite the glass walls and sunlight, the room shrinks in his presence.
When he slips a hand into his pocket, my eyes follow the movement and catch on his groin.
Shame washes away my curiosity as I yank my gaze away.
“Although, maybe this request is too much for you, Ms. Simons?” He isn’t asking despite his inflection; he’s mocking me. I brace myself as he strolls onto the center carpet. “Due to my poor leadership skills, you’re overdressed for a weekend meeting,” he says.
Indignant fury ignites an inferno in my chest. Every slight I’ve absorbed over the years from pompous bosses with inflated egos barrels through me and demands I strike.
Matteo Ricco will regret starting this game with me.
We’ll see who begs first.