Page 8 of Matteo

I need this job so much, and my desperation terrifies me. But clearly, Paul Knight, the guy at the top, is interested in my skillset because I’ve made it through to this round of interviews. I’m not sure I like him. I find him intimidating in the way powerful men often are, as though he’s spent his entire life getting exactly what he wants.

But I’ve gotten this far, and it’s obvious that nothing’s been flagged.

Chapter 3

MATTEO

Damn. Now that’s a distraction I didn’t need.

As I rush towards the elevator, a woman bends over just in front of me, to pick up something she’s dropped. The sight of shapely calves catches me unawares and for a split-second admiration replaces simmering anger as I find myself admiring the line of her legs. The fabric of her skirt molds to her curves and her killer heels accentuate her calves. She straightens up, and stands.

I forget my sour mood as I rush past her and catch the elevator. A tiny thought in my head makes me wonder if I should have let her go in before me.

I manage to get in, but it’s packed tight. Frustration bubbles up inside me again. I’ve been up since 4am. Couldn’t sleep. The technical issues at work are giving me sleepless nights because the old man’s been on my back to get this issue fixed. Now the guys are on my back, too.

It’s not like I’ve been sitting around doing nothing. Sometimes, I wish I didn’t work here. For him. I wish there were no extra complications above the actual job. Working for him means being constantly reminded of old wounds, of family betrayals and unspoken resentment.

The doors start to slide together when a bag gets shoved through, preventing them from closing.

What the hell?

The doors open again.

“Sorry.” It’s a breathless whisper, and then Shapely Calves squeezes in. It was already tight in here and now she’s taking up space we didn’t have.

“Thanks,” she mutters, gazing up at me, because I’m standing right in front.

Hazel.

Her eyes are hazel orbs flecked with burnished copper.

It’s the first thing that strikes me about her, and my heart stirs inside my chest, confusing the hell out of me.

Dark hair, pale skin.

Another striking thing about her.

I catch the sparkle of her nose ring. That’s not something you see around here. Hers is hard to miss; thin and silver, it glints in the light. Impossible to ignore. Her eyes startle and she looks like she’s not sure if she should look away or look closer. Maybe I’m staring too much. I force myself to focus on the elevator doors.

What the hell is wrong with me this morning?

I shake my head, hoping to clear it.

And why is she thanking me?

Maybe she thinks I pressed the button to open the doors.

I dig her nose ring. Corporate won’t approve. I could warn her, but it’s none of my business. Corporate don’t think I fit here either, with my chains and tattoos, but who gives a fuck?

She now has her back to me but not before I catch a whiff of her perfume. Something clean, and floral. Something expensive. She has the audacity to stand directly in front of me so that her pert little butt is only inches from my ...

I swear to God, if she moves back a few inches, I’ll have to nudge her away. I stare at the glowing numbers above the doors and try to focus on those instead.

The old man. The technical glitches.

As expected, silence falls. Nobody talks. A low hum bounces around the cramped space but as the elevator whooshes up, people start getting out floor by floor. To my surprise we’re halfway up and Shapely Calves is still here. She’s moved away and is standing to my side now, busy staring at her cell phone. At least the elevator is almost empty, and I can breathe again.

I shoot a quick glance at her, trying to figure out which floor she’s heading to. She’s probably an intern. Someone desperate for work experience. Someone who wants to make an impression in that black fitted blazer and pencil skirt. I wince when I see the sharp points of her heels. Those things could leave serious dents in the flooring.