“Cute,” he says.
My jaw drops. Like actually.
“Excuse me?”
He leans back in the chair, all lazy confidence, but his eyes stay sharp.
“The cliché,” he says. “Cute blonde secretary and her boss.”
My smile tightens until it feels like it might crack.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, like he doesn’t buy that for a second.
“You’re not stupid,” he says. “And neither am I.”
I don’t respond because I can’t think of a response that won’t make this worse.
The silence stretches.
I hear the faint murmur of Nico’s voice through his closed office door.
A normal work call. A normal day. My body is anything but normal.
And Vito is still watching me like he’s waiting for me to slip.
I lift my chin a fraction. Keep it polite and professional. Whoever he is, he’s still one of the bosses.
“Mr. Conti will be available as soon as he’s finished,” I say, and my voice stays cool and calm through sheer force of will.
Vito’s gaze drifts over my face one more time, slow and assessing. Then he grins, and it transforms his face. For a second, I’m a bit flustered to see the boyish humor on such a dangerous face.
“That was a very polite way of telling me to mind my own fucking business,” he says.
My stomach drops, and I feel a little sick. Because he’s right.
Oh, God. What do I do?
“I didn—” I shake my head. “That’s not what I said.”
Vito’s grin lingers like he likes the pushback.
“No,” he says. “But it’s what you meant.”
I hold his gaze for one beat longer than is comfortable, then look back at my screen like I’m not being openly sized up in my own cubicle.
The handle on Nico’s office door turns.
My pulse spikes on reflex.
The door opens, and Nico’s frame fills the doorway.
His eyes go straight to Vito. Then to me. Then back to Vito again.
Something in Vito shifts immediately. The boyish humor goes away. All that coiled energy tightens.
“Vito,” Nico says.
