Page 137 of Bellini Born
The elevator doors slid open, and I pressed my palm to the scanner outside of our assigned penthouse. The gears turned to disengage the lock, and I pushed my way inside.
But instead of Matteo, it was Enzo who shot off the couch in disbelief. “Summer?”
“Where is he?”
“His office.” I began to walk in that direction, but Enzo’s clarifying words stopped me in my tracks. “The one on the 59thfloor.”
“Oh.” My head whipped toward the door. “And what floor are we on now?”
“The 60th.”
Matteo was right beneath our feet.
“I wasn’t here. Understood?” I arched an eyebrow at my husband’s cousin.
Enzo smirked, dropping back onto the couch and stretching his arms across the back of it. “That’s weird. I could have sworn I heard someone trying to get in. False alarm.”
Turning on my heel, I didn’t bother with the elevator. The stairs would be faster.
My fingerprints unlocked the door that granted me access to the executive floor, and I surprised yet another person who was not my husband.
“Mrs. Bellini.” A middle-aged woman gaped at me from behind a desk set in the lobby.
“Camille.” I greeted Matteo’s secretary. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.” To this point, all of our interactions had taken place over the phone.
Gesturing toward the door featuring a plaque that denoted it as Matteo’s office, I asked, “Is he in?”
She nodded woodenly. “Yes, but—”
“Do I need to book an appointment to see my own husband?” I challenged.
“No, ma’am. It’s just—”
“Just what?”
Camille cringed. “He’s not in the best of moods.”
I plastered a smile on my face as I said with saccharine sweetness, “I imagine it’ll only get worse once he learns that I’ve been held up out here.”
Yeah, I was kind of being a bitch, but after spending days apart from Matteo and the girls, my patience was wearing thin with his gatekeeper.
With her mouth dropping open, Matteo’s secretary pressed a button on what appeared to be a small speaker.
“What?” His voice barked.
“Uh, Mr. Bellini, I have—”
“I don’t care who the fuck you have. I’m not available.”
The woman shot me a pleading look, begging me to understand.
I held up a hand. “I’ve got this.”
“Ma’am,” she hissed to my back when I moved toward the double doors, probably thinking I was about to get her fired.
Grasping the handle, I pushed inside.
Though his head was bent, Matteo heard my entry, and it caused him to slam a fist down on his desk. The sharp crack was enough to make me jump.
