Page 164 of Matteo

Unless ... unless she and the others, Vlad and Takumi, have something planned for Knight Enterprises. It’s a crazy thought, and I’m exhausted. I tilt my head from side to side, trying to ease out the knots in my neck.

“Speaking of which,” Alex says, narrowing his eyes. “Whatever happened with that Vladimir guy?”

My body tenses. “What about him?”

“You asked me to run a background check on him.” He shrugs. “He's a former hacker with an arrest record. Not exactly an angel.”

I keep my expression neutral. “He's unrelated.”

Alex studies me. “Then why did you want the report?”

“I was following up on something.”

“And?”

“He's not our problem.”

Alex doesn't look convinced, but thankfully lets it drop. A few seconds pass. Then, “I think you're making a mistake about letting Elizabeth come to work.”

I wish he’d fucking let it go. “I’m collecting more information.”

Alex shakes his head. “You want to spy on her.”

“I want to investigate. I don't want to wrongly accuse her.”

“She has you twisted up,” he says quietly.

I clench my jaw, hating how getting involved has complicated everything. “It's not personal.”

He looks at me like he doesn’t believe me. I'm not sure I believe me either. “For now,” I say, “we contain this. I don't want any gossip or speculation. The rest of the team doesn’t need to know anything yet.”

His mouth tightens. “You want to protect her.”

“I'm being careful,” I grind out.

Because, deep down, I don't want to believe it's her.

“You should get some sleep,” Alex says, then promptly leaves. I sigh with relief, and sink into my chair, closing my eyes for a moment.

I hear Mama's voice.

When there is proof, Matteo, your heart stops arguing with your head.

I open my eyes and stare at the monitor in front of me, at the activity reports Alex sent over, at the neat rows of timestamps and access points and system triggers.

It's too neat. Too clean. Too convenient. Elizabeth is clever, but she’s not reckless. If she wanted to bury something, she wouldn’t leave footprints this obvious. She’d know we’d look. She’d know I’d look.

Maybe I'm kidding myself and looking for ways to absolve her. Maybe my tiredness fogs my mind. Every cell in my body screams at me to get some rest. I seriously consider it, when there's a knock on my door.

“Come in,” I yell, not even looking up.

The door opens and Elizabeth stands there looking at me, her expression strangely neutral, as if she doesn't feel a thing, or won't allow herself to.

I rise to my feet before I can stop myself and for a few seconds neither of us speaks. This is the first time we’ve been face to face since Dubrovnik. Since the reception. Since I walked away from her and she had no clue as to why.

Our gazes hold, and I feel something cold move through me. I can't figure out if it's anger or regret.

And then she steps inside and closes the door behind her.