Chapter Thirty
Genevieve was halfway through her second day and she just wanted it to end. She was ready to get to work learning the ins and outs of Accardi Industries’ numbers. She wanted to find the mistakes, correct them, and gloat. She wanted to find ways to save money, earn more, and figure out how a company with so much profit in gambling dispersed all the winnings.
Instead, she was in her third meeting of the day with the lawyers, Mr. Johnson and Mrs. Tutt. Mr. Johnson was the one who handled lawsuits and business dealings while Mrs. Tutt handled the gambling law. Mrs. Tutt’s area of expertise was intriguing and had Genevieve jotting down nearly every word. Mr. Johnson, on the other hand, had a monotone voice that made staying awake while listening to his warnings nearly impossible.
Just as Genevieve went to stab her thigh with her pen again to keep her awake, the door to the conference room opened. Kaitlin stuck her head in and gave a shy wave.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she whispered. “Mr. Accardi needs to see Miss Sinclair at her earliest convenience.”
“Thank you, Kaitlin, I’ll see him once I’m done here,” Geneveive assured her while wishing it could be the next minute.
“Good, God,” Mr. Johnson said, looking at the time on his phone. “I got so lost in what we were discussing, I’ve nearly skipped lunch!”
Mrs. Tutt rolled her eyes. “Oh my stars! You better hurry, Henry, La Bellas closes in six hours. You may miss your chance.”
Mr. Johnson jumped out of his seat as if she were serious. “We’ll finish our discussion after lunch, Miss Sinclair.”
Genevieve’s smile tightened. “Of course, I look forward to it,” Gen said with a nod as he hurried out of the room.
Mrs. Tutt laughed as she shook her head. “You have to work on not letting your emotions show on your face, Hun.”
Gen’s mouth fell open and she ran her hand through her hair. “I guess I do. You’re not the first person to say so lately.”
Mrs. Tutt patted her on the back. “The legal stuff is hard to stay awake for.”
They walked out of the conference room together. Gen liked her. Mrs. Tutt probably had only a decade on her but she had a mother-like quality. The kind of sweetness that came naturally and without hidden innuendos.
“I liked listening to your specialty,” Gen argued.
Mrs. Tutt threw her head back as she laughed. She looked around to make sure no one was within listening range as she lowered her voice, “It’s his voice, not the subject matter.”
Gen laughed at that and told her to let her know when Mr. Johnson was ready to start up again. Then she looked at Matteo’s office door. The windows were tinted meaning she couldn't see him but she knew from their conversation yesterday that he could see her. Gen walked up to his door and knocked.
“Come in,” he yelled from the other side.
Gen opened the door to find him sitting behind his desk. His fingers tapped away behind his laptop where his eyes were trained with studious determination. She stepped into the office and glanced around. She was surprised to see the minimalistic design of it. He had a few accommodations on the walls and a solid oak desk but there was nothing personal about the office where he spent so much of his time.
“Sorry to interrupt your meeting,” he said, his eyes still focused on the computer screen.
“I wouldn’t say interrupt… more like saved,” she said with a light laugh.
He smiled behind his laptop. “Johnson can drone on about regulations.”
“Yes, he certainly has a gift.”
Genevieve sat down in the chair across from him and waited for him to finish typing whatever he was working on. Finally he delicately closed the laptop and sat back in his chair. Gen tried to keep her face impassive as she took him in. He was wearing a light grey suit today with a slim blue tie. His hair was combed back making his dark eyes stand out on his clean-shaven face. He looked ever the polished CEO.
Gen cleared her throat as his eyes took her in as well. “You said you needed to see me?”
He blinked once sharply as if she’d pulled him out of a daze. “Yes.”
Matteo stood up and started going through the drawers of his desk. “I have something I need you to start working on… Where the fuck did I… I’m meeting with a colleague on Tuesday for lunch. He wants me to consider selling him my track in Kentucky.”
“That would be a major deal.”
“Mhmm, ah, here it is,” Matteo pulled a file from his bottom drawer and held it out for her.
Gen gasped. She yanked the file out of his grasp and grabbed his wrist. She carefully studied the bruised, bleeding, swollen knuckles of his hand.
“Matteo,” she breathed in sympathy.
“It’s nothing,” he said, trying to pull his hand away from her inspection.
She gripped his wrist tighter and glared up at him. “What the hell did you do?”
“I got into a fight.”
“No shit! How?”
Matteo smirked and shrugged.
“Have you been taking care of it?” she asked. He opened his mouth to answer. “Of course, you haven’t. Look at them! Do you have a first-aid kit or something?”
Matteo sighed and finally succeeded in getting his hand back. “Gen, it’s nothing. Let’s get back to the task I have for you.” He sat heavily in his chair and reached for the file. Before he could grab it, she shoved it off the desk, scattering the papers across the floor. His eyes followed the toddler-like display and then snapped up to meet her glare.
“First-aid kit,” she demanded.
Matteo scrubbed his face, only drawing more attention to his knuckles. “The cabinet in the bathroom,” he said, pointing.
Gen followed the direction of his mangled finger and noticed the bathroom attached to his office for the first time. She walked over and searched the cabinet for what she would need. She walked back to him only to find him with his laptop back open and a half-written email on the screen. She slammed the laptop shut, nearly smashing his fingers with it. Matteo sighed and sat back in his chair with an annoyed expression. She pushed the laptop over and sat on the top of his desk. He eyed her warily.
“Hands on my thighs,” she ordered.
Matteo raised a brow along with one side of his mouth as he did what she told him. His hands curved around her thigh and she forgot for a moment what she was meant to be doing. She chuffed his ear making him laugh before resituating his hands in a less intimate position. She pulled some hydrogen peroxide out and wet a cloth. She took his right hand and started to gently dab at the open sores.
“Now, what was it you needed me to do?” she asked, not looking at him.
“I forget…” he whispered.
Gen glanced up at him with a dubious expression. He smiled and shrugged. “Tuesday. Lunch. Selling your track.”
“Ah, yes, that,” he said, his smile growing wider as she rolled her eyes. “I need you to run a report on our profits over the last five years and give me a projection for the next ten. I need to know what it’s worth at present.”
“Easy enough so long as I’m given all the permissions I need.”
“Done.”
Despite his protests, Gen moved on to bandaging the knuckles on his right hand. “Is there anything else?”
“You can pick out where you want us to eat.”
“Sounds like a great job for Alexander.”
“He’s busy.”
“And I’m not?”
Matteo’s left hand brushed against her thigh. She looked down to find his fingers running over the marks left by her pen as she’d tried to keep herself awake.
“Doesn’t look like it,” he mused, his eyes venturing up past her exposed skin to the shadows of her skirt.
Gen cinched the bandage tight, making him hiss and pull his left hand from her thigh. He gave her a look of betrayal to which she merely smirked. “Oops.”
Gen inspected his now bandaged right hand and nodded with approval. Then she went to his left hand.
“You lose, by the way,” Matteo said with a smile in his voice.
She snorted. “Lose what?”
“It’s not even been twenty-four hours and you’re already touching me.”
Gen’s eyes jerked up to his boastful expression. “You’re hurt. This is completely courteous behavior.”
“Is it?”
“I can make it painful if you prefer.”
“Might be better than the excruciating torture that is you being gentle with me,” he whispered.
Gen shook her head and decided to focus on what she was doing. It was easier said than done while hovering over him, hearing his quiet breathing, holding the hands that had once touched every inch of her skin. She squirmed on top of the desk as the memories of their night together came flooding back.
“Don’t think about it. It’ll make it worse,” he whispered to her stooped head.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your body does.”
“So why do you do this to yourself?”
“Think about you screaming my name?”
“Matteo.”
“No, not like that, louder.”
Gen sighed. She looked up to find him smiling broadly. She narrowed her eyes in warning. “Why do you pick fights when you’re upset?”
His brow crashed down over his eyes. “What are you…”
“The night of your family’s funeral, your knuckles were bleeding just like this,” she said, holding up his hand for emphasis before she started wrapping it. “And not treating them? Are you trying to prove something? Show the rest of the world the great Matteo Accardi can survive anything, even a broken hand?”
Matteo shrugged. “Maybe.”
“It’s stupid.”
“Maybe.”
“Well, stop,” Gen said, lowering the hand she’d just finished wrapping.
She looked into his eyes with a pleading expression. She wasn’t ready to be with him yet but she didn’t want him hurting himself either. Especially if the reason why he’d done so was because of what she’d said to him the night before. Matteo’s jaw worked while he returned her stare as if they were debating the issue with their eyes. Matteo’s right hand slowly returned to her thigh, testing to see if she would shove him away. When she didn’t, he wrapped it under her knee.
Matteo opened his mouth. “I…”
A knock came at the door. Gen scrambled off the desk, sending the rest of the first-aid supplies to the floor. Matteo pushed back from the desk, wheeling his chair away from the carnage as she stooped to grab the supplies.
“Sir, I…” Alexander started from the doorway.
“That’s funny, I don’t recall telling you to come in,” Matteo stated, his voice filled with anger and contempt. The sound of it, so foreign to her ears, froze her for a moment as the hairs on her arm stood on end.
“I… uh… my apologies, I’ll come back later,” Alexander stuttered as the door closed behind him.
Genevieve fumbled around, picking up the first-aid kit and the papers she’d scattered earlier.
“Gen…”
“I’ll get the report ready for you by Monday,” Gen said quickly, her face flaming.
“Gen…” Matteo repeated, his voice back to the familiar calm, warm honey she’d become accustomed to.
“Make sure to change the bandages over the weekend, okay?” Gen ran for the door and hauled it open.
“Genevieve,” Matteo called, more sternly this time.
She didn’t listen. Instead she hurried past Alexander, who looked just as flustered as she felt, and Bella, who had apparently witnessed the entire encounter.