He stretches his hand for a shake and once I accept, I’m effectively dismissed. I leave and drive to my office. It feels impossible that it’s only 10 a.m. Feels like the day started forever ago.
It gets even longer when Rachel approaches me as soon as she notes my arrival.
“You have a visitor, Ms. Beaumont. He’s in your office,” she informs me, collecting the case file in my hand.
My eyebrows rise. “Who is it? I’m not expecting anyone.”
“He said he had something to discuss with you about a case.”
“His name?”
Rachel grows slightly nervous, “He only gave me his first name, ma’am. Matteo.”
I feel my heart slide down into my stomach, but I still hold out some hope that it’s not him. It can’t be.
My ears start to ring, “It’s fine,” I tell my paralegal. “I’ll handle it.”
She goes back to her desk while I take slow heavy steps into my office.
“Please, please, please, please,” I murmur underneath my breath.
I open the door and recognize him before he turns around. His dark hair is shorter than it was a couple of days ago. Fresh fade, fresh shave. He’s wearing a crisp dark suit as always and when he turns around, I suck in a sharp breath.
Even worse is the way my body betrays me. Heat travels through me as I recall our last encounter in clear detail. I feel alive for the first time in days and it’s impossible that he should be the reason, but he is.
Matteo Vitale. My own personal hell.
CHAPTER 7
Matteo
Lindsay Beaumont’s office is not what I expected. I’m honestly not sure what I’d expected. My gaze sweeps over the space, cataloging every aspect. The desk is too clean. Not empty, just precise.
There are files stacked neatly, aligned like they were measured. The window behind it lets in light, but the blinds are half-drawn, cutting it into clean lines across the floor and the desk. There’s nothing personal in the room apart from two framed photographs on the desk.
One of the photographs is her with her father, and the other one is her hugging my sister-in-law, Valentina. She seems happy in the pictures. Light, free, and so beautiful it’s almost painful to look at.
My gaze shifts to the shelves: legal texts, case binders, all arranged with the same quiet order. This isn’t a place she’s comfortable in, I notice. It’s not sentimental, it’s functional.
I stand in the middle of the office, my fingers brushing lightly against the back of one of the chairs opposite her desk. The office speaks to her reputation of control, intelligence and discipline.
She’s a top ADA at twenty-nine, so she’s definitely capable. It’s cold, though, which is completely at odds with the woman I slept with a couple of days ago.
That woman had so much fire in her, I’m worried I’ve been burned. Permanently.
I hear the door open behind me and take a couple of moments before turning around. And just like before, there’s that same magnetic energy I felt. The one that was impossible to resist. My eyes collide with those starry blue ones, and it’s like my heart collapses.
I might need to make an appointment with my cardiologist.
Once she gets over her shock, anger sharpens in her expression. It’s a good look on her, the color in her cheeks, her blonde hair flowing down her back.
“Get out,” she says, shutting the door behind her.
It closes with a quiet click that feels louder than it should. I glance around the room instead, slow, like I’m still considering it.
“Nice office,” I tell her. “It’s very… sentimental.”
She scoffs, clearly gleaning my sarcasm, since there’s absolutely nothing sentimental about this space. She steps further inside, walking past me and setting her bag down on the desk. She does all this without taking her eyes off me.
