Chapter Twenty-Six

Genevieve was utterly drained. The first day had stretched endlessly before her, and now, as the clock approached seven in the evening, only a handful of people remained in the office: herself, Kaitlin, Alexander, and a group gathered with Matteo in the conference room. After a thorough and detailed tour led by Kaitlin, Gen had managed to secure her ID badge, keycard, and a garage pass from HR—though she chose not to mention that the CEO had already arranged all of it for her. Throughout the day, she had crossed paths with several of her colleagues down the hall, except for the PR woman, who seemed to be present at every meeting in the conference room.

A strange, prickling jealousy gnawed at her stomach as she observed the steady stream of employees leaving the building, yet Matteo and the PR woman remained locked in the conference room. She shook her head firmly, trying to dismiss the feeling. “It doesn’t matter,” she told herself silently. “You have a job to do. Focus.” But the mantra grew tiresome after being repeated endlessly in her mind. She sighed, weary of the mental battle.

Gen carefully placed a framed photo of herself and her roommates beside a wedding picture and another frame holding a photo of her mother and father. She continued rummaging through the box, lost in thought, when a knock at the door startled her. She jumped up and turned quickly, relief flooding her when it wasn’t Matteo but Kaitlin standing there instead. Kaitlin’s cheeks were flushed, and a shy smile played on her lips as she stepped inside. Gen soon understood why when a man she did not recognize followed closely behind her.

Over the past few weeks, Gen had unwittingly encountered many men connected to the mafia. She had learned to spot certain telltale signs: tattoos crawling across their skin, dark clothing, stern, unyielding expressions, and the constant darting of their eyes, as if expecting a crazed gunman to emerge from a nearby sewer grate. This man, however, was unlike any she had met before. He was tall—around six feet—with striking reddish-blond hair and deep brown eyes that seemed to pierce right through her. His navy suit was impeccably tailored, accentuating the copper tones in his hair. He was clean-shaven, wore a watch that could easily cost half a million dollars, and sported a diamond earring that likely matched the watch in value.

“This gentleman requested to speak with you,” Kaitlin said, her voice soft and breathy.

Gen extended her hand cautiously. “Hello, I’m Genevieve. And you are?”

The man’s smile was like a sudden burst of sunlight in the dim office. She nearly gasped at how his grin completely transformed his presence—from a hardened mafia figure to something more ethereal, almost angelic.

“Raphael,” he said, his Italian accent thick and smooth. He took her hand, but instead of a typical handshake, he dipped his head and kissed the back of it, maintaining eye contact.

Genevieve quickly pulled her hand away, startled. “What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to welcome you to the company,” he said, his voice dripping with charm—the kind of accent that made many women swoon. He casually circled around her desk and settled into her office chair.

Gen grabbed Kaitlin’s arm gently and guided her toward the door. “It’s fine, I’ve got this. Thanks, Kaitlin.” She closed the door behind her, every alarm in her mind ringing loudly. But she knew this man couldn’t harm her here—not with so many eyes in the surrounding offices. Returning to her desk, she stood firmly beside her chair. “This is my chair, if you don’t mind.”

Raphael raised his hands in mock surrender.

“My apologies,” he said smoothly. “Usually, the person at the desk sits facing the door. Easier to spot danger coming.”

Gen took a sharp step back, narrowing her eyes. She refused to let his subtle intimidation tactics rattle her. As a woman who had worked in male-dominated fields for years, she was no stranger to such games. She sat down roughly, pulling her chair close to the desk.

“So, what exactly is your role at Accardi Industries?” she asked, voice steady.

“Human Relations,” he replied, glancing around the office with a faint smirk.

“Bullshit,” Gen shot back without hesitation.

He shrugged, smirking wider. “You’re sharp. Alright, I’m not directly employed by Accardi. Think of me as… a consultant. I was asked to meet you, to assess your… value. Or perhaps your danger. Whichever seems more apparent.”

She studied him closely. “And you can determine that from just one conversation?”

“I’m better at it when people are lying naked beneath me,” he said with a sly grin, “but yes, I have a knack for sniffing out rats.”

Gen raised an eyebrow. “Then maybe you should check the kitchen down the hall. I heard some rustling in the cupboards earlier. Could’ve been you sneaking around looking for trash.”

He chuckled, flashing a smile that, two weeks ago, would have left her breathless. “I’ve been called many things, but never a weasel. I might actually like that.”

“Is there anything you want to discuss, or are you just here to make me uncomfortable?”

He shrugged casually. “I’m visiting from overseas. Considering investing in the new track in Austin. Thought you might answer a few questions.”

“I just started. I don’t know much beyond the basics.”

“They’re simple questions, I promise.”

Gen sighed, glancing at the ceiling. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

“How many tracks does the company own?”

“Six. Austin will be the seventh.”

Raphael nodded thoughtfully. “How much revenue does Accardi Industries generate annually?”

“You’re welcome to check the public tax records,” she replied coolly.

“And how many horses does Accardi personally own?”

“How am I supposed to know that? I thought you might be close enough to him to know.”

He leaned forward. “Excuse me…”

“There are rumors about a club here—some place where men or women go for relief. Any idea where I can find it?”

Gen stood abruptly. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

He looked mildly offended. “What did I say?”

Gen tapped her fist twice on the desk, frustration boiling over. “How stupid do you think I am?”

He raised an eyebrow in response.

“You’re here to assess my danger? What danger do you pose, sir? You know I have no business beyond Accardi Industries. If you have suspicions, bring evidence. Take it to Mr. Accardi. Ask him your questions. Unless, as I suspect, you’re here to test me. If that’s the case, I’ll take it up with Mr. Accardi myself. I have enough on my plate without some man barging in and firing off questions designed to trip me up or make me say something I shouldn’t—so you can give your biased opinion to your boss.” As she spoke, Raphael’s eyes glowed with something unreadable. “Now,” she said, stacking her files and pushing them aside, placing her palms firmly on the desk, “get the fuck out.”

Raphael shook his head slowly and rose. He leaned across the desk, invading her space. Gen stood her ground. His gaze scanned her face with a mixture of envy and amusement. He pursed his lips to one side, shook his head, then dropped it. When he looked up again, a pure, amused smile played on his lips.

“Accardi’s a lucky man. It was a pleasure meeting you, Genevieve.”

Without another word, Raphael stepped back, circled around her desk, and headed for the door. Gen watched him like a hawk, alert for any sudden moves—whether to swipe something or throw a hidden weapon. He didn’t look back as he left, simply raising his hand in a casual farewell.

Once he was a safe distance away, Kaitlin rushed in, clutching her files tightly. She glanced between Gen and the retreating figure disappearing down the hall toward the conference room.

“Are you okay?” she asked, concern evident.

“Yeah,” Gen assured her, though her mind was still racing.

“He was…” Kaitlin began.

“Dangerous,” Gen finished for her.

Kaitlin’s eyes shimmered with a dreamy quality.

Gen’s brow furrowed even deeper. She suddenly remembered how young Kaitlin was—still unscarred by the predators lurking in the shadows. Kaitlin hadn’t yet learned to trust her instincts over appearances when sizing up a man.

“Do you know who that man is?” Gen asked quietly.

“He shows up now and then. Never stays long. He’s from Italy. That’s all I know.” Kaitlin glanced around nervously and lowered her voice. “Some of us think he’s part of the family.”

Gen raised an eyebrow. “The family?”

“Yeah, like one of the original three.”

“Hm,” Gen said, nodding, though she had no real idea what that meant. “Let me know if you see him again. I don’t trust him.”

She watched as Raphael sauntered down the corridor, turning right. As he passed the conference room, she noticed him raise his hand in what he must have thought was a discreet gesture. Her eyes widened when she saw him give a thumbs-up. Her gaze darted to the man the gesture was directed at: Matteo.

Oh, hell no.