Chapter 7 #2
“Yes. I have previous engagements I cannot cancel.”
“No. Cancel them.”
My jaw aches from clamping my teeth so hard, but I lift my chin and quirk a brow.
“I will not. My schedule is otherwise open, but Saturday evenings are off-limits.”
His lips lift in a wicked smirk. Arousal joins the anger in my veins and creates an addictive cocktail.
“Nothing of yours is off limits to me. You’re mine, Brook.”
Flames lick through my body. My lungs constrict as the oxygen disappears from the room, and I regret not eating breakfast as my head spins.
“You’re wrong, Mr.—”
My voice seizes as he surges to his feet. He steps around the coffee table, leans over me, and braces his hand on the couch, caging me in and making me feel tiny and helpless.
“Call me Matteo, little rabbit.”
His low murmur vibrates straight to my core. I can’t breathe. Lust erases every self-defense move I’ve learned over the years.
“No. This is the office. I—”
“I’ll put up with your professionalism—” he spits the word like it’s a curse, “—when your coworkers are around, but when we’re alone, you’ll call me by my name.”
My insides clench as he runs the tip of his finger down the side of my face. I sit frozen in the center of the storm, unable to move as a wildfire blazes in his hazel eyes.
“M-Mr. Ricco, this is sexual har—”
“We both know you want this, little rabbit. It’s only a matter of time before you beg me to take you,” he rumbles.
I curl my hands into fists and pull my defenses around me by sheer force of will.
“I said no. Any further action constitutes as—”
He rises to his full height and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Don’t pull that bullshit with me. I’ve never forced a woman in my life, and I never will. What’s between us isn’t a mere employer-employee relationship. To pretend otherwise is lying,” he growls.
I stiffen my spine and stand. He still towers over me, but at least I feel less defenseless.
“We signed a contract, Mr. Ricco,” I say.
He lifts a hand and ghosts his fingertips over his collar. My heart leaps as I realize he’s tracing the scratches and bruises I left on him.
“Any legal action you take will be against my team of lawyers.”
When his words finally register through the pounding in my ears, all the blood drains from my face.
I forgot he’s from the same cloth as my father. He sees nothing wrong with using his influence to destroy someone else’s life. Bitterness rises up in me so fast my entire body shakes. Over a decade’s worth of hatred barrels through me.
I need out of this room before I lash out.
With terse movements, I yank the pen from my suitcase, slap it down on the papers, and close my briefcase before swinging my glare up to his.
“Either sign or don’t. Employment or termination. Your choice, sir.”
I stomp out of the room and continue across the building until I find the restrooms. Too furious to focus on anything except finding solitude, I lock myself into a stall, press my forehead against my briefcase, and breathe.
As the seconds tick by, the boiling in my blood slows to a simmer and my senses expand beyond my anger.
Disappointment turns my limbs to lead. Even though I told myself not to trust Matteo Ricco, the hopeful teenage girl trapped inside of me did.
High heels click against the tiles. I drop my arms to my sides and roll my eyes to the ceiling.
This must be the morning from hell.
After rolling my shoulders and shaking out my arms, I take a deep breath and open the door.
At least I entered the women’s restroom and not the men’s.
The polished marble sinks and fancy light fixtures make this the most ostentatious and expensive restroom I’ve ever set foot in.
Ms. Lynn leans her butt against the counter with a scowl on her face as she checks her nails, obviously waiting for me.
I step out of the stall—which is more like a separate room with a slatted door and floor-to-ceiling walls all around—and head toward the nearest sink.
“May I help you, Ms. Lynn?” I ask as I set my briefcase on the counter and turn on the water.
She moves away as though afraid of catching cooties.
“Yeah, you can stay away from Matteo Ricco,” she says.
I lift a brow and send her a bland glance in the mirror as I stick my hands under the spray.
She huffs and stomps her foot, which is an impressive feat in her heels.
“I haven’t slaved away at this company for a year and a half just for some ugly poor bitch like you to steal my man away from me,” she hisses.
I squirt soap onto my palm and suds my hands as I check her out in the mirror.
She’s gorgeous. Her body is killer. If I swung that way, I’d take a whack at it if her brain wasn’t the size of a walnut.
She steps toward me with a mean glare.
“He’s already mine, so back off,” she hisses.
Men like Matteo Ricco don’t value smarts, so maybe she’s telling the truth. Even though I came onto him first—albeit in a drunken haze—maybe he treats all his female employees this way.
My heart rejects the idea, but I cling to it and morph my fiery rage to icy disgust.
I bend and rinse my hands.
“I thought you had a boyfriend already,” I say.
She jerks as though I slapped her before stomping into my space. I hold my ground despite her perfume clogging my sinuses.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your fucking mouth shut. Got it, bitch?”
I clear my throat to hide my mirth and turn off the water. When I shake my hands and fling water droplets everywhere, she jumps back with a squeal.
I reach over and almost yell as pain shoots up from my bruised arm, but I ignore it and pull a few paper towels from the dispenser before turning toward her.
“Ms. Lynn, if Mr. Ricco is your man, then please get him under control. I don’t think I can hold him off for a year and a half while you try and weasel your way into his bed again.”
I ignore her outraged gasp, toss the paper towels in the bin, grab my briefcase, and exit the restroom.
With a calm I don’t feel, I return to the glass alcove and sit at my designated workspace.
Less than two minutes later, Matteo Ricco emerges from his office and drops the stack of papers onto my table. The top page shows his signature beside mine on the addendum for my Saturday night schedule requirements.
He calls for Ms. Lynn. She flounces over with an expectant expression.
“Show Ms. Simons the filing system; she will take over for the executive floor. Feel free to delegate other tasks to her as well, so long as they don’t interfere with the work Mr. Brunswick gives her,” her instructs.
Matteo was always a sore loser. He basically just gave his secretary dominion over my time, ensuring I pay the price for winning.
I grit my teeth but take the papers and rise from my seat.
Matteo stalks back into his office and closes the door behind him.
I bite back a sigh and turn to follow Ms. Lynn down the hall. The concerned look on Mr. Brunswick’s face makes me feel a little better.
Working here may be hell on earth, but I’m not alone. I have at least one ally, and the pay is enough to keep me, at least until I clear debts and save enough to start my own business. No workspace is perfect, so I’ll focus on the good instead of the bad.
I won’t obsess over my boss.
He’s as heartless and cunning as my father.
No matter how my soul yearns for the friendship we once had or how my body craves his, I vow to hate Matteo Ricco until my dying breath.