Chapter Forty

Matteo had lost track of how long he had been lingering in that spot. He had stepped out for a late lunch and grabbed a fresh cup of coffee, intending to head back to the executive offices. But just as he was about to turn the corner into the hallway where the offices were, something caught his eye and halted him in his tracks.

There she was, sitting cross-legged on the floor of her office. From where he stood, the scattered papers forming a chaotic circle around her gave off an almost detective-like vibe, as if she were piecing together a complex puzzle. He observed quietly as her fingers gently brushed over each sheet, flipping from one to the next, while her reading glasses teetered precariously on her nose.

After a while, she rose and began pacing slowly around the room with her eyes closed. Matteo noticed her lips moving, softly murmuring words to herself. Then, in a sudden, dramatic gesture, she pulled at her dark hair and threw her head back in frustration before stomping to her desk. Calmly, she began stacking the papers together. Matteo assumed she was finished for the day—most of the other executives had already left, eager to start their weekend early. But to his surprise, she cleared everything off her desk and lay down on top of the neat pile, her hands resting lightly on her stomach.

From his hidden vantage point, Matteo was completely captivated by this enigmatic woman. She lay back, tossing a small ball rhythmically into the air with one hand, a sleeping mask covering her eyes. The quiet monotony of her movements contrasted sharply with the intensity he sensed beneath the surface.

He was grateful he had discovered this little alcove in the hallway a few days ago. Leaning against the wall here, he could watch her without being noticed, his view unobstructed by anything but glass. The offices were designed with transparency in mind—walls of glass meant to symbolize openness, a constant reminder that everything was out in the open, that he was always watching. He rolled his eyes at the thought; it hadn’t stopped Giovanni from stealing from him, after all.

His phone buzzed in his hand, startling him out of his reverie. Matteo shifted the now-cold coffee to his other hand and glanced down at the screen.

Alexander’s message read: “According to Kaitlin, Miss Sinclair is trying to figure out how to reallocate funds we’re losing from Diego to save jobs.”

Matteo slipped the phone back into his pocket and resumed his quiet observation. The ball arced through the air again, landing softly in her small hands. She had kicked off her heels long ago, and her toes, painted a striking red, dangled over the edge of the desk as she stretched languidly. A groan escaped him at the sight. How many times since they had met had he imagined her in a similar pose—only on his desk? The thought was both torturous and tantalizing. Perhaps this spot wasn’t as discreet as he had hoped. Maybe, just maybe, she was doing this to him on purpose.

His mind drifted back to the elevator incident, as it often did these past few days. Strangely, it wasn’t the fear of falling to his death that lingered most vividly in his memory, nor the sensation of her lips or the warmth of her body in his arms. Instead, it was the terrifying speed with which she uncovered one of his most closely guarded secrets. Was he really that transparent? Had everyone else known and simply kept it to themselves? After days of reflection, he reached a startling conclusion: it wasn’t that he was easy to read—it was that she was exceptional. She had seen him at his most vulnerable. Alessio had been right; she was his weakness.

Once this truth settled in, Matteo deliberately kept his distance. He buried himself in work, preparing for the grand opening of his new track in Austin. The atmosphere in the building was tense, the final arrangements demanding everyone’s attention. But even after leaving the office, his duties were far from over. He had neglected his family business for weeks, and everything was in urgent need of attention.

He hadn’t returned to his apartment since the night he showed Genevieve the family garden. Their only interactions since that brunch with O’Brien had been brief and formal—meetings where she was seated across the room or fleeting glimpses of her passing by the kitchen hallway.

Those small moments, though, were his lifeline. The times she walked past with a shy smile and eyes cast downward made his heart ache. Did she miss him? He was honoring her request to keep his distance, but he wondered if, unintentionally, his absence was pulling her closer.

Suddenly, Genevieve sat upright on her desk. The ball she’d been tossing fell and bounced off her head, but she didn’t seem to notice. She yanked the sleep mask from her face and tossed it aside, springing off the desk to pace the room in search of a particular stack of papers amid her chaotic spread. She crouched down, picked up a sheet, and studied it as if it were a treasure. Her finger traced the page, and she nodded repeatedly before leaping into the air and punching a victorious fist toward the ceiling. A triumphant yell escaped her lips.

Just then, Kaitlin burst into the room, causing Genevieve to turn toward the door. Matteo drew in a sharp breath at the sight of her radiant smile, which lit up her eyes and the entire space around her. The poor assistant looked slightly overwhelmed but clearly happy to share the moment.

Genevieve spoke animatedly, her hands moving expressively as she explained her breakthrough, her voice filled with excitement. She kept glancing at Kaitlin, but after only a minute, her expression softened. She gave her assistant a small, dismissive wave and a knowing smile. Kaitlin shook her head slightly and left the room, while Genevieve began gathering the scattered papers with less enthusiasm than before. Yet, after just a few moments, her smile returned. She crouched and jumped again, releasing another victorious fist pump.

It took a great deal of self-control for Matteo to tear his gaze away from the woman who had completely captured his attention and look toward his assistant.

“Yes, Alexander?” he asked, trying to sound composed.

Alexander’s eyes flicked toward Genevieve’s office. The man had clearly noticed Matteo’s obvious infatuation long ago but had done an excellent job keeping it discreet. He deserved a raise for that.

“I have all your flight details for tonight, along with the itinerary,” Alexander said, extending a file.

Matteo accepted the folder with a resigned sigh. Normally, he loved track openings—parties, new connections, beautiful women to ease the stress, and usually a boost in profits. He began walking toward his office but couldn’t resist one last glance toward the woman he wouldn’t see for another three days. He wished there were some way to make her leave, to remove the ache her absence would cause. Of course, he knew there was no reason for his meticulous accountant to be there. He knew it well.

As if sensing his inner turmoil, Genevieve looked up. A blush spread across her cheeks, as if she was aware he had been watching her for hours. She smiled shyly and tucked a strand of silky hair behind her ear before turning her eyes back down to the papers in front of her.

“Alexander?” Matteo called, his voice steady as he approached his open office door.

“Send me next week’s schedule. I want to be buried in work, please,” Matteo said, pushing the door open, hoping the flood of tasks would distract him until it was time to leave.