Page 7 of Ruined By the Enemy
My steps are brisk as I walk down the hallway, nodding absentmindedly at the secretaries at their cubicle, before heading towards Dom’s door.
He sent for me.
I received the memo as soon as I got to the office, and the first thing I felt was fear.He found out.I’d left a trail somehow, and he found the truth.
Then I realized that if Domenico Moretti were truly on to me, I wouldn’t have walked into the building this morning.
A man like this, with a strict reputation that precedes him, wouldn’t have let me anywhere close to him. Instead, I’d have been slapped with a lawsuit or a restraining order.
Smoothening my skirt with a hand, I raise the other to knock.
“Come in.”
I hesitate—only a second—before pushing the door open and stepping in. The air, like before, turns chilly as the door closes behind me. He doesn’t acknowledge my presence, though.
His back is slightly hunched, and his gaze is fixed on a document in front of him. Strands of loose brown hair fall over his face, shielding his eyes from view. Even then, I can feel it.
Dark. Like he knows something about you, but he’s willing to let you trip all over yourself with the truth. He picks up a tennis ball and squeezes it absentmindedly, but my eyes follow the movement of his fingers as they curl, loosen, curl… the veins and muscles in them creating their pattern.
So many layers to him.
It just makes you want to peel them back, carefully, and see what lies at the—
I shake my head vigorously to clear my thoughts. I don’t care what is at the bottom of his soul. I know everything that’s important.
He’s Domenico Moretti, and I’m here to bring him down.
So, I clear my throat to get his attention. “You sent for me, sir?”
He lifts his head slowly, threading his fingers through his hair at the same time. For some reason, my mind responds with a flash image of a swimwear billboard ad I saw this morning on my way here.
Get it together, Sophie.I grit my teeth.
“Yes,” he nods. “Have your seat.”
His gaze follows me as I cross the office space, tracking my movements until I sit. “You were right about Blackwater Talent,” he says without preamble. “They were on the verge of bankruptcy, or at least on the verge of not being able to hide their financial problems anymore.”
“You did your research then,” I say tightly, a little miffed that he doubted me that much.
Dom nods. “Yes, I did. However, I asked you here for a different reason. Rather than working with More Media or the company’s legal department, you’ll be working closely with me.”
My brows shoot up before I can mask my reaction. “You? May I ask why?”
He picks up the tennis ball again, and I force myself to keep from looking. The ball drops and rolls over to me. “Yes. Because you’ll be working on a couple more cases, I intend to evaluate your performance to see how genuine you are.”
I blink slowly, confused by his words. “How genuine I am?”
The chair hits the floor silently as Dom stands, walking around his desk to shadow me from behind. I spin as a jolt of warmth runs down my back from his sudden presence.
“You see,” he folds his arms, “I’m not completely convinced that you found the intel on Blackwater Talent on your own,” he says calmly, but his straight gaze and narrowed eyes say otherwise. “I’m not against coercing someone on the inside for the truth, but I think there’s more to how you came about your information, Miss Greco.”
More?
I feel a slice of panic as my hands grip the edge of the chair. This feels like a well-planned set-up that I walked into, thinking I’d covered every base.
He takes a step forward, and I lean back subconsciously, holding my breath without thought. My pulse skitters as he closes the small distance between us, and my mind scrambles for a way out.
“Tell me,” he murmurs, “what did you do to get your hands on the intel?”
