Chapter Eighteen

Matteo let out a heavy sigh and flicked his wrist to check his watch. It was well beyond nine o’clock, and still no sign or message from Genevieve. She was doing this deliberately—he was certain of it—just to push him to the edge of his patience. Deep down, he knew she couldn’t refuse him. Frankie’s investigation into Johnson and Sinclair, with a sharp focus on Sinclair, had been flawless. Genevieve was in serious financial trouble, though it wasn’t obvious at first glance. The contract he had drafted was airtight—nothing too extreme, just a short-term employment agreement. Just enough time to make her fall for him. Matteo rubbed his face with both hands, frustration mounting. This woman was driving him to the brink of madness.

“Hey, yo, Accardi!” Juliano’s voice cut through the noise.

Matteo groaned and glanced toward the bar where Marco and Juliano were seated, each accompanied by women they’d picked up at the hotel earlier, on their way to a club.

“Come join us!” Juliano called again, waving him over.

“Fuck off!” Leo growled, plopping down on the stool beside Matteo.

Rolling his eyes, Matteo turned back to the rows of liquor bottles glimmering on the shelves behind the bar. He downed another glass of whiskey and signaled the bartender for a refill. Pulling out a cigarette, his fingers trembled slightly as he lit it. He stared at his hand, wondering when he had become the kind of man who got nervous. He sighed deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb, and glanced once more toward the reception desk, barely visible from his seat. The cigarette slipped from his fingers.

At the reception desk, Genevieve stood patiently, waiting for the woman behind the counter who was furiously typing on her computer while holding a phone between her shoulder and ear. The receptionist shook her head, and Genevieve folded her arms tightly across her chest. The receptionist gestured toward the bar. Genevieve turned just enough to read the sign above the entrance and tapped the desk a few times, offering a sweet smile before fully facing the bar. Matteo watched as she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded once, steeling herself before stepping forward. He rose from his seat and moved to the far end of the bar, wanting to watch her longer.

She approached the entrance to the bar, her eyes scanning the room. She was still wearing the same outfit she’d worn to work, but her shirt was now slightly untucked, and she had undone two more buttons, revealing more of her cleavage. She clutched his hoodie tightly in her arms as if it were a lifeline. Matteo noticed the moment she spotted his men. Her eyes widened, and a flush of red spread across her cheeks. He glanced at the men and understood her discomfort—the women were straddling Juliano and Marco, grinding their hips provocatively. Genevieve’s gaze darted around the room. When she couldn’t find him immediately, she shook her head and started to turn away.

But Matteo wasn’t about to let her leave that easily. He circled the bar and stepped in front of her. With her head still bowed and steam practically coming out of her ears, she didn’t see him until she bumped right into his chest, gasping in surprise. He quickly wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her, while one of her hands pressed over his heart for balance. A warm blush spread from her chest upward, and her eyes slowly lifted to meet his. When their blue eyes locked, her lips parted in astonishment.

“You’ve only just arrived, Ladruncola,” Matteo murmured, his voice thick with an emotion he dared not name. “I’m not going to let you slip away that easily.”

“I managed once before,” she shot back, a challenge in her tone.

“I’ve learned my lesson,” he replied, tightening his hold on her waist. “Why run off so soon?”

Her eyes narrowed, and she pulled away from him. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Matteo glanced over her shoulder at his men, who were busy making out with their dates. Leo stayed at the bar, his focus entirely on the interaction between boss and woman.

“I don’t think they’d mind the interruption,” Matteo said, stepping back into the space she’d created. “But I definitely would.”

He placed his hands back on her waist, pulling her closer. Her breath came in short, uneven gasps, and her eyelids fluttered. God, she wanted him. The realization made a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth.

“I… I brought you something,” Genevieve said, pushing the hoodie under his nose. He chuckled softly as she stepped back and crossed her arms.

Matteo pressed the hoodie to his face and inhaled deeply. His eyes closed involuntarily at the familiar scent of vanilla and cherry. The ghost of a smile that had been lingering since he first saw her stretched into a full grin.

“You’ve been sleeping with this…” he teased, raising his eyes to meet hers.

“Please, it’s been stuffed in the bottom of my carry-on since New York,” she scoffed, looking away.

“Liar.”

“Excuse me?” she hissed, narrowing her eyes.

“Did you bring anything else with you?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Genevieve’s fingers twitched along her arm. She sighed and pulled the contract from her purse, holding it up for him to see. He took the paper and flipped through the pages, then sighed again as he looked back at her.

“You haven’t signed it.”

“Astute observation, Mr. Accardi.”

“What’s holding you back? I know it’s not the money,” he said, crossing his arms.

She smirked, as if she held all the power in that moment. Matteo groaned inwardly, realizing she did.

“I want a clause added.”

“What clause?”

“No employee-employer relationship,” she said, biting her lip.

Matteo struggled to keep his expression neutral, but judging by the widening of her smile, he was failing miserably. He shuffled his feet and planted them wider.

“Is that really necessary?”

“With you? Yes, I believe it’s absolutely necessary.”

He lowered his head until he was eye level with her. “You think a piece of paper will change anything? That a few words signed by us will keep me from tasting you again?”

“No,” she said, standing taller and stepping a foot closer. “I think I’ll be enough to stop that. You said it yourself—this partnership is something I can’t afford to mess up by… well…” She raised her eyebrows, making the meaning clear.

“Sleeping with me?” he asked, his voice low, as if discussing a secret military operation.

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that, sweetheart,” Matteo said with a knowing smile.

“Are you going to add the clause or not?” she challenged.

Matteo shook his head and pulled out his phone. He quickly typed a message to his HR contact, who he’d asked to be on call for just such an occasion. Within moments, a thumbs-up emoji appeared.

“My HR rep will fax over a new copy,” Matteo informed her.

“Great.” She started to walk away. “You can send it to—”

“He’s faxing it to my room,” Matteo interrupted.

Her feet froze, and her back stiffened. She turned sharply, her glare fixed on him. “You really expect me to come up to your room?”

Matteo approached her casually, hands in his pockets, his hoodie slung over one shoulder. He pursed his lips and looked upward thoughtfully.

“Why delay the inevitable? You come up, we have a drink while we wait for the contract. You read it, sign it, and then our partnership can begin. Fifteen minutes. That’s all.”

Genevieve glanced around as if hoping someone might suddenly appear to rescue her. She closed her eyes, tilted her head back to expose her long, slender neck, and sighed deeply, as if dealing with a stubborn child. Then her head came back down, and she stared him down.

“Fifteen minutes. Not a second more,” she declared, pulling out her phone and setting a timer. She held it up for him to see and pressed ‘start.’

Leaning in close, his breath warm against her neck, Matteo whispered, “Follow me, Miss Sinclair.”