Page 72 of Matteo

He mentioned something about it last night. It was the first thing I checked when I got to work this morning.

A 10am meeting with Matteo.

I can't go to that.

“Elizabeth, I don't have all day.”

He's talking to the back of my head, because I'm frozen in place, undecided. That voice, that tone, talking to me like with such indifference. It’s too late to back out now. I stand up, grab my pen, grab my notepad, and turn around. “Yes, sir.”

“What did you say?” He stares at me in disbelief, his face twisted in annoyance.

“Sir. Isn't that how you're behaving? Like I should jump every time you snap your fingers.”

His jawline tenses. “In my office, now.”

“Yes, sir.” I follow him, undeterred, refusing to back down.

He closes the door behind me. “You can't talk to me like that in front of everyone.”

I spin around. “What do you want me to do now, Sir? Are you going to bend me over your desk and smack me with a ruler?”

When I'm mad, I don't care what I say. Or to whom. Matteo's eyes turn big, and round, like he can't believe what I’ve just said. I can’t either.

“What’s gotten into you?” he growls.

“You’re behaving like a Dom,” I hiss. All the bitter frustration pent up inside me releases. We’re both facing one another, still standing near the door, neither of us wanting to back down or back away.

He looks at me, perplexed.

I attempt to enlighten him. “The controlling partner in a BDSM—”

“I know what a Dom is,” he snaps. “And I’m not that.” He exhales loudly, raking his hand through his hair as he sits in his chair. With his sleeves rolled up, his forearms and tattoos are on full display again.

My Achilles heel.

I look away and start to chew the inside of my lip instead.

“What's with the attitude?” he asks, finally.

I force my eyes to his. “What’s with your attitude?”

“What attitude?”

I take deep breaths, long and slow, without making it obvious. I’m trying to calm my rising anger. This guy affects me in the most unnerving of ways.

“Your attitude, last night. Do you remember last night? Or have you blocked it from your mind?”

“I'm not one to drink myself to oblivion. I remember everything clearly.”

“Then you'll know why I have attitude.”

He raises a brow, head tilting, and I resist the urge to let out a frustrated groan.

“You don’t think you were being an ass?” I move towards his desk and place my hands down, glaring at him.

He gapes at me, eyes blinking more quickly now. But he still doesn’t say anything. He has no idea, no understanding of how his behaviour affects me emotionally.

“You embarrassed me,” I hiss, mindful of everyone sitting outside in the open-plan office. Aware that they can see us. “You undermined me in front of the others, and you made me feel small when all I’ve ever done is prove myself, time and time again.”