Page 177 of Matteo

Her eyes narrow slightly.

“This whole thing...” I struggle to explain it. “It struck a deeper chord. Something old.”

A shadow passes across her face.

“I thought I knew exactly who you were,” I admit. “And then suddenly I wasn't sure of anything anymore.”

The words sound weak and flimsy, like they're not holding up, but the truth is, this was never just about security logs or compromised credentials. It's taken me a while to fully process it.

It was about trust.

About me believing in someone completely, only to discover that maybe I was wrong.

That maybe she wasn't who I thought she was.

That maybe I missed something important.

Just like Mama did.

The feeling is so familiar and painful that it makes my body ache. She nods, as though she understands, and we watch one another in silence, waiting to see who speaks next.

I clasp my hands together and force myself back into business mode. “You’ll have the access you need by tomorrow morning. Just don’t mention it to Alex.”

If she’s surprised by my comment, she hides it well.

But I can’t have Alex finding out.

He already thinks I’m biased in her favor.

Chapter 42

ELIZABETH

Matteo giving me more access helps. It helps a lot. But him telling me to keep it to myself makes me wonder now if he doesn’t trust Alex either.

Knowing Matteo, he probably doesn’t trust anyone.

I spend the next few days digging deeper, and I see that there are time inconsistencies. And also, everything looks too clean. Whoever this is, this person is good.

I slump back in my chair. It’s been another long day. I’m not usually the last one here. I’ve noticed that even when I’ve stayed here until nine o’clock, Matteo is still here.

I wonder if it’s because he doesn’t trust me, or if it’s because he wants to talk.

We’ve managed to avoid one another at work and most days I manage to block him out of my mind.

It doesn’t always work.

I know that he’s blocked me out for sure; put me out of his mind completely, because he tends to deal with people in that way.

He doesn’t get involved, he doesn’t blur the lines, but he did with me. I find some solace in that. When I don’t fall asleep easily, I lie in bed thinking about us. I think I hurt him. I have a feeling that what’s going on with him is more than just me being accused of this crime. It cuts deeper than that. I sensed it in Croatia when Vlad let slip that I used to work for him and when Takumi mentioned Chicago—things about my past that I’ve never told Matteo about.

He asked me once, and I told him he had no right to it, so I shouldn’t be too hurt and surprised that he’s suspicious of me now. I shouldn’t blame him, even though I miss him so much some days that it hurts. I’ve tried to forget him, but it’s not easy when he’s always around the office.

He sits behind me and I don’t even need to turn around to know that he’s staring at me, because I can feel the weight and the heat of his gaze on the back of my neck. I can’t forget the way he’d drop kisses along my neck, the way he’d nibble my earlobe, the way he’d kiss my neck before sliding lower and lower.

My body heats just thinking about him with his face between my legs; and the way he’d look into my eyes as he came inside me.

I fidget in my seat, feeling my panties dampen and liquid heat coiling deep in my belly. It’s not easy shifting my focus back to the problem at hand. And then I find myself thinking: Who could be doing this? It doesn’t make sense. I throw names around in my head, trying to rule people out. I’ve long thought it could be an inside job, but what if it’s someone trying to make it look like an inside job, but it isn’t?