My heart is in my throat as I run out of the room, slamming the front door behind me. Once again, I curse myself for a fool. If anything happens to Fiona, I will never forgive myself. I dial my father's number as I stop by the elevator. He picks on the second ring.
“Lorenzo.” His voice is cautious, hesitant. “Fiona stopped by your office earlier with lunch for you. She sounded…off. And then when I told her about the lunch with Natalie…” He sighs heavily. “Son, I think I may have made a mistake. I didn't realize—”
“There's no time for that now,” I cut him off, pressing hard on the elevator button as if that’s going to make it move any faster. “Fuck!”
“What are you talking about?” he snaps, his voice serious.
“Fiona—she found him and is on her way to confront him. You have to stop her, Dad.” I rush into the elevator when the door slides open. “Protect her from him. I can’t fucking lose her. I’ll call Matteo and update him too.”
If he notices the possessive tone, he doesn’t mention it. “Who does she need protection from?”
“Zack Pettibone, Matteo’s assistant,” I say, cursing myself for not seeing it earlier. Of course it was someone with that level of access. Someone Matteo trusted implicitly. Someone who could move through the organization without raising suspicion. I stare at my reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator, and staring back is a man determined to kill to protect the women he loves. “He’s dead the second he touches her!”
Chapter Six
Fiona
This is how spies die in movies.
The protagonist confronts the villain alone, convinced they can handle it, and things go sideways. I realize, as I climb from the taxi, that maybe this isn't the brightest idea.
There's enough proof that this person is the mole, and I would be wise to call Lorenzo and let him deal with it, but the thought of talking or seeing that lying bastard makes meeting the culprit look like a bright idea.
I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? On a working day, with an office full of people?
I just need to get to the man's computer to be sure.
I flash my security card at the entrance and stride through the gleaming, modern lobby, the polished marble floor reflecting the city's hazy sunlight that streams through the panoramic windows. The air hums with a quiet energy, the subtle thrum of a place where fortunes have been forged. Every floor in this building belongs to a different department managed by a Rossi brother. I always thought it was interesting how seamlessly the legitimate business operates—on the surface, it's just anothercorporate headquarters. Most of the employees probably have no idea what their bosses do after hours.
I scowl at the wall when I step into the elevator, crossing my arms over my chest to glare at the number six—Lorenzo’s floor. An IT department that is filled with liars and scammers. It shouldn’t be surprising that he would be surrounded by those kinds of people when the man himself is the biggest cheat.
The fury burning in my chest works to hide an emotion I refuse to allow to surface.
Hurt.
I've never been in love before. Never knew the feeling with anyone else until Raziel. In the three years we spoke, I trusted him. I loved him. Feelings I transferred to Lorenzo Rossi when I met him, and this is what I get in turn. Betrayal.
I manage to fix my expression when the elevator doors open onto the IT floor. I didn't want to come here first, but I left my backup drive and some notes locked in my desk drawer when I rushed out yesterday. If I'm going to convince Matteo that his assistant is a traitor, I need every scrap of evidence I can get my hands on.
I walk out, passing through sleek, minimalistic workstations, and barely anyone looks up when I pass them, with everyone hunched over glowing screens. The walls are adorned with tasteful artwork – something I was told was the work of the youngest Rossi and the only daughter of the Rossi family, Gabriella Rossi. The scent of freshly brewed coffee hits me as I pass by the cubes and the glass-walled conference rooms, heading toward the executive floor where Matteo's office is—I want to report what I found to anyone but Lorenzo—but then someone steps in my way.
Derrick.
“So, how was trivia night?”
“Huh?” I blink dumbly at the man before I realize what he's talking about. “Oh, it was disappointing.” I spent my first time with a man who turned out to be a lying cheating bastard, but no matter what I do, I can't get myself to regret last night. Maybe it wasn't special for him, but it meant everything to me.
“That is exactly why you should have joined us for drinks.”
“Yeah, maybe next time,” I offer placatingly, but when I try to step past him, he gets in my way.
“You never gave me your number, Fiona. I mean, I'll need to call you to have that drink later, right?”
“Uh, sure,” I say absently, glancing over his shoulder. “Just need to grab something from my desk if you’ll excuse me.”
“For the last time, leave the intern alone, Derrick,” comes a voice from behind us. When we turn, it's Zack again. He's standing there with his hands shrugged causally in his pockets, watching us. “What you're doing could be considered harassment.”
Derrick grumbles under his breath about Zack being a cock blocker before strutting away, leaving us alone.
