Chapter 4 - The Third-Floor OfficeTen minutes before nine, I marched down the third-floor corridor wearing the gray pantsuit. It fit me with terrifying precision, hugging my curves without looking unprofessional, making me look every bit the corporate shark I certainly was not.
I didn't bother knocking. I wrenched the heavy oak door open and marched straight into Matteo’s private office.
Matteo sat behind a massive mahogany desk, reviewing a stack of shipping manifests. He looked up as the door slammed against the wall, a single dark eyebrow arching in mild amusement.
“Good morning, Chloe. You look... executive.”
“Cut the crap, Conti,” I snapped, slamming both hands down on his desk and leaning forward until our faces were inches apart. “You paid my mother’s care facility?”
Matteo didn't flinch. He leaned back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers together. “An advance on your salary. You’re going to be working long hours.”
“I didn't agree to this job!” I yelled, my voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. “You kidnapped me, trapped me in a fortress, and now you’re using my mother as leverage to keep me here! That’s kidnapping, extortion, and about five other felonies I’m sure your legal team has loopholes for!”
Matteo stood up slowly. His tall, imposing frame cast a shadow over the entire desk. He walked around the mahogany wood, closing the distance between us with slow, deliberate steps until he was standing close enough for me to smell the clean, woody scent of his cologne.
“You aren't a prisoner, Chloe,” he said softly, his voice dropping into that deep, gravelly register that made my heart do a dangerous, unwanted flip. “You are protected. There is a difference.”
“There is no difference when I don't have a choice!”
“You always have a choice,” Matteo replied, his slate-grey eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made it difficult to breathe. “You can walk out those front gates right now. I won't stop you. But within twenty-four hours, Giannis Moretti’s men will find you in your apartment, because they saw you in my orbit. And unlike me, Moretti doesn't take hostages to protect them. He takes them to send a message.”
The words hung in the air like lead.
My breath hitched. The reality of what had happened at the Velvet Room—the gunfire, the shattered pillar, the cold realization of how close I had come to dying on my twenty-sixth birthday—came rushing back in a suffocating wave.
“Why?” I whispered, my voice breaking slightly as I looked up at him. “Why protect me? I yelled at you. I poked you in the chest. I’ve been nothing but a nightmare since the moment we met.”
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Matteo reached out, his large, warm hand gently gripping my shoulder. The touch was firm, grounding, and entirely unexpected.
“Because,” Matteo murmured, his gaze dropping briefly to my lips before rising back to meet my eyes, “for the first time in ten years, someone looked at me in a crowded room and saw a human being instead of a monster. And frankly, Chloe... I kind of liked it.”
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