Page 44 of Matteo

I see Matteo walk through the door just as I'm about to bite into my sandwich. I stop, stare. Heat flickers low in my stomach. I didn’t think he was coming.

“Are you okay?” Alex seems to be always so aware of my every move. He rests his hand on my arm lightly.

“Yes.” I nod, but I catch the way Matteo’s gaze drops to Alex's hand on my arm. I take a bite of my sandwich and pray that I don't end up with egg salad smeared across my mouth. I watch as he walks to the counter and places his order.

“Found anything interesting?” Alex asks again.

“Oh, uh … nothing conclusive yet.”

Alex turns to see what caught my attention. “It’s the boss,” he murmurs. I quickly chew and reach for my water again just as Matteo appears directly in front of me. He sits across the table from me.

“Thought I’d join you guys.” He’s holding what looks like a panini wrapped in paper.

“We’re honored,” Alex says. “What’s that?”

“Steak, arugula, and horseradish mayo.”

“I should have had that. It looks good.” He watches as Matteo unwraps his panini. “Shoot,” he cries, suddenly. “I need to be somewhere.” He pushes his chair back, already standing. “Catch you later.” His eyes flick briefly to mine, giving me an apologetic nod.

He leaves a big gaping hole in his absence; one that's filled by the noise of the sandwich bar. I feel slightly self-conscious, left here with Matteo.

“You managed to clear everybody away fast. Don’t they like you?” I quip, feeling a need to fill the silence between us.

He shrugs. “They like me, I think. And we do this often, have lunch as a team. I’m not that kind of a boss.”

“What kind of a boss are you?” Now I'm intrigued.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t look at myself subjectively like that.”

This guy has perfected the art of speaking in sentences without giving anything away. More silence follows and I focus on my sandwich, and take the last bite. Then I take another sip of water. Then I glance around the place. I do anything to distract me from the fact that I’m suddenly hyper-aware of him, of the way he sits and eats, and how his dark green-or-brown eyes sometimes meet mine.

“You can leave if you want,” he offers. “I’d hate to force you to stay here and watch me eat.”

I can’t tell if he’s also feeling uncomfortable with it just being the two of us. Being trapped together, being vulnerable, before I discovered who he was, has made it uneasy for me to work for him. If I hadn’t gotten into that elevator, if I hadn’t examined his tattoos, if he hadn’t stroked my skin to calm me down, things would be a lot different.

Maybe.

I’m not so sure now, because the way he looks, the way he dresses, the way he is, I can’t help but think of him long after I’ve left work. It’s hard enough trying to block him out at work, but what I’m finding in my audit is interesting enough that I can usually manage it.

I’m drawn to him, no doubt about it, but I can’t let it get in the way of my work. Sometimes I wish we hadn’t gotten trapped together. I wish I’d just met him as a stranger because it would have been easier coming from a place of not knowing, whereas now that I know what it’s like to touch his skin, to have him be concerned about me, and to take care of me and soothe me, I have a whole different version of the man in my head, one I can’t quite dislodge. One who is different to this one sitting before me.

I resort to having digs. “It would be rude to leave you here all by yourself. People would think you don’t have any friends.”

“I don’t care what people think.”

I dig deeper. “It’s true then? You don’t have any friends?”

“I’m used to being alone,” he says, casually. He sounds like me. I am, too. I don't have a social life. My work is my life. Arthur and Irene are my family.

I don't have friends, not close friends. But I have Vlad. The team split up and we lost touch, but Vlad has always been there for me. Which reminds me—I need to get back to him about his wedding. I’m going, I just need to let him know when. I’ve been fixated on the interviews, that I’ve not given him a definitive answer. But now that I have this job, I just want to prove myself. Get a few weeks of work under me, and impress them all, before I’ll allow myself to take time off for a vacation.

“You don’t have to be alone,” I remark.

The words slip out before I can stop them. I freeze for half a second as his gaze lifts to mine. He frowns, signaling his disapproval, and I’m left feeling doubly stupid. Sometimes, my mouth takes on a personality of its own. It happens when I'm feeling anxious, or when I like someone. I have a double dose of this problem now, with Matteo.

“You don’t know anything about me,” he says quietly.

“Maybe not.” I force my voice to be steady. “But I know what it looks like when someone isolates themselves.” Because I've done that myself, and I recognize it in him, but did I have to go and spell it out to him?