‘Madonna mia, Maria, open the damn door,’ he said. The way the alliteration rolled around his mouth was familiar; tasting like affection, frustration and grief all at the same time. He was trying to parse his way through those feelings when she opened the door looking mutinous and absolutely glorious.
Dio, it was a punch to his chest that knocked the air from his lungs and he was thankful that he was at least wearing his sunglasses to hide behind.
Thick dark curls tumbled around her face, her cheeks flush with indignation, her eyes sparkling with fury and all he could think of was how she looked when she orgasmed and he forced himself to look away before he made a fool of himself.
‘Why are you here?’ she demanded, a large bin bag placed on the ground between them.
‘I’d rather not have this conversation on the doorstep.’
‘I’d rather not be having this conversation at all, but here we are,’ she shot back.
He slipped his thumb and forefinger beneath the frame of his glasses and pinched his nose again. The tension headache that bracketed his temples was just getting worse and worse. He really didn’t need this. He had very little time, maybe less than twenty-four hours to save the contract, and then get back to the rest of Gallo Group.
‘I need to speak to you about the Peterson account.’
‘Peterson? You need to… You’re here because…’ Her tongue swept out across her bottom lip before she pulled it beneath her teeth.
‘What did you think I’d be here for?’ Micha demanded, confused.
Maria huffed out a bitter laugh and honestly? He didn’t know what was going on. Because she was the one who had quit after all. He’d have willingly continued to work with her because she was excellent at her job. And there was a small petty part of him that felt that Gallo Group mightnothave been in such a precarious position if she hadn’t quit.
‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing,’ she said, answering his question, turning her back on him and disappearing into the house, leaving Micha to move the bag blocking the doorway so that he could follow her.
He walked into a large open-plan space that somehow managed to be both open and full of light, and yet cosy and calm. It was significantly different to the property she and her mother had lived in before Maria had left Rome.
Thathad been dark, cluttered with books, paintings and expensive trinkets. Old money, with no taste was how he’d once thought of it, when he’d been there for one of the family gatherings. He’d never visited it when he and Maria had…
He shut that thought down and followed her towards the kitchen, letting her put the long marble-top island between them for distance and safety.
She avoided his gaze, fussing with coffee cups and the sleek machine that vibrated at an impossibly quiet hum. He watched her choose decaf and frowned. He was about to say something when she interrupted his train of thought.
‘What did you do?’ she said, her tone accusing but curious, as if in spite of herself.
‘What do you mean?’ he asked, confused.
‘To Peterson. That account was safe, the client was happy. And you can’t afford to lose Peterson right now.’
‘Why do you thinkIdid something?’ he bit out, angry at the assumption that he had somehow messed up, and choosing to ignore the warning that he was already very much aware of.
‘Because Peterson was happy. And now he’s not.’
Micha rubbed his jaw. ‘He wants you to handle the contract renewal.’
‘I don’t work there any more,’ Maria said and he waved her statement aside with his hand.
She narrowed her gaze at him.
‘What did youdo?’
‘It was an admin error,’ he explained.
‘What was?’
‘Contracts used an outdated template, and Peterson thought I was trying to pull a fast one. He says the trust is broken and the only person he’ll deal with is you.’
‘An admin error? And management didn’t think to check it?’
‘In case you hadn’t noticed, we’ve been a little busy in the last few months,’ he bit out angrily.
