Page 26 of Matteo

I wonder if he's starting to lose faith in my ability.

I wonder if he's got something planned for me like he did with the others.

I’ve often wondered why the hell I stay here. Why we all do. It’s torture, this constant rollercoaster of duty, control, family pressure and resentment. We all feel it, even if we don’t outright discuss it.

I stay here, working for the old man because it’s owed to me, to us. To Mama. The old man took so much from her, from us as a family, that working here, ensuring we are all set for life long after he dies, feels like the right thing, the only thing we can do. I inhale a deep breath, and try to let it all out, the stress of this morning, and she comes vividly back into my thoughts.

Elizabeth. The woman who intrigued me enough that I was going to ask for her number, now presents me with a dilemma. The last thing I need is her working in my department.

She’ll think I have the hots for her. She’ll think … I don’t know what she’ll think. I was about to tell her that it wasn’t a good idea for her to work here, but I figure she would have seen and heard enough to make her own mind up.

I managed to keep my mouth shut and leave.

Just as the elevator gets to the tech lab, I hit the buttons to ascend. I need to have it out with the old man.

“When were you going to tell me?” I cry, striding into his office moments later.

He looks up at me, calmly. “In due course. Once I'd interviewed every candidate.”

“You didn’t think I needed to be involved? I'm the fucking head of cybersecurity.” My jaw tightens. She doesn’t bother me as much. It’s the fact that he went about the entire hiring process behind my back. As if he has no faith in me.

Arrogant prick.

“You are, and as of yet you still haven't fixed the security issues.”

Heat flares inside me. “Like I keep telling you—”

“It’s been over a month.”

He’s always so rude and condescending and always interrupting. He’s been this way for most of my life. I get fragments of happier times, when he was nice, when we had laughter in our house on those rare occasions that he’d “come back from business”. Rio reminds me because he seems to remember a lot from our childhood. “It. Takes. Time,” I grind out. “We're looking at the server logs. These issues aren’t easy to find.”

“Consider this as a way of you getting more assistance.”

“You don't think I need to know that you're hiring someone to work in my department?” It’s fucking outrageous. One day I’ll walk in to find he’s fired me.

He stares back at me in silence.

“You don't think I need to know whether these people will fit in with my team?”

“Fit?” he asks. “What qualities are you looking for? Bra size? Height? Attractiveness?”

I wonder if his mind is always in the gutter. Does he view women as objects? Is that what he was thinking when Elizabeth was giving her presentation?

I rub my lips together, taking a few moments to ground myself. “That's all you’ve got?”

“She’s smart. Very, very smart, believe me.”

“Where did she study?”

“Self-taught, apparently.”

I can't believe my ears. “She didn't go to college?” We only take on Ivy league grads. How the hell is he even allowing her to interview here?

“No, she didn't.”

“How do you know she's smart?” I snap. Does he … does this dirty scumbag have other designs on her? I can’t help thinking about Maya’s mother.

“Because I know.”