Page 31 of Ruthless Mr. Ricco
The bottle of juice I dropped in my haste rolls off the far side of the table and bounces onto the floor as Ms.Lynn steps into the room.
Her eyes widen as she takes in the scene, and when she narrows her glare on my face, I know she blames me for the tension in the room.I lift my chin and relax my fists.
“No thank you, Mr.Ricco.If there’s nothing else, I’ll get back to work,” I say.
He crosses his arms over his chest and clenches his teeth.Lust and frustration shine from his eyes, rallying my own need, but he morphs his countenance into icy indifference and delivers his words in a tone that brooks no argument.
“Finish your checklist, make three cups of coffee, then report to my office for debriefing.Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
I can’t help the snark in my tone any more than I can stop the lust thrumming through my veins.
This man is pure poison.
I can’t fall into his trap, but my body yearns for a taste, and I know infection is inevitable.After only one day in his presence, my resolve wavers.
Why am I denying myself when I can enjoy the guilty pleasures while I reach for my revenge?
The wave of jealousy as he stalks around the table and addresses Ms.Lynn answers my silent question.
Having sex with Matteo Ricco is too dangerous.My heart wants him too much.I could never separate my attraction to him and the emotions lingering in my soul from our youth.
It hurts, but such is life.
Before my mind dredges up all the betrayals and pains of my past, I resume clearing the table.By the time I fill the tray, wipe the table, and grab my juice off the floor, Ms.Lynn and Mr.Ricco are no longer in sight.
The ache in my skull threatens to worsen, so I guzzle the juice before adding the empty bottle to the tray and heading to the kitchen.
After cleaning the tray and taking stock of the setup, I shut my brain off and hop into barista mode.With only three drinks to make instead of the late-night rush I managed solo for years at the coffee shop near my college campus, I let my mind wander as I clean machines, fill water containers, and stuff filters.
By the time I set the third drink on the tray, my brain throbs almost as much as my bruised arm.I can’t stop it from replaying my interactions with Matteo throughout the day.Hot then cold, uncaring then angry, the man is too infuriating for words.
I check the placement of the drinks for better balance before I lift the tray off the counter.Steam swirls up from the hot brews.
My feet hurt, but the stiffness in my arm has grown concerning.I need the day to end.I’m tired of hiding the pain and long to curl up in my bed and sleep.
Part of me still believes Matteo is biding his time before he lands the killing blow.He must be in cahoots with my father, otherwise—I gasp as agony blasts through my injured arm.Scalding liquid splashes onto my chin, neck, and hands despite my attempt to save the drinks.The tray slips from my grip.Ceramic shatters as the mugs hit the edge of the counter and scatter across the floor.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”Ms.Lynn exclaims.
She needs acting classes if she’s going to pull stunts like this, but pain steals my ability to form a decent comeback.I reach for the stack of napkins to wipe the burning coffee off my face, but thick fingers wrap around my forearm and spin me around.
Matteo’s furious visage fills my vision even through the haze of agony.
“Goddamnit, Brook,” he hisses before manhandling me toward the sink.
I stumble and bite back my shout of pain when he turns on the cold water and shoves my stinging hands underneath the spray.With aggravation in every move, he holds my wrists in one hand while he snatches a handful of napkins off the counter and wets them.I flinch when he lifts them to my face, but he dabs the hot spots with surprising gentleness.
Emotions clog my throat.Tears burn the back of my eyes, so I close them and focus on breathing.I will not cry, no matter how deep his tenderness reaches into my soul.
No one has cared for me in a long, long time.My mother loves me, but when I took on the role of caregiver while she battled cancer, the dynamic between us changed.I couldn’t show her how devastated I was.Couldn’t reveal my weaknesses.Couldn’t share my woes.I had to be strong for her.
My heart soaks up Matteo’s attention like a dried-out sponge; so slowly at first I don’t realize it until my soul grows heavy from the rapid absorption.I can’t stop my compounding need nor the whimper building in my chest.
A tear escapes my lashes and trails down my cheek.He curses under his breath and blots it away with a damp napkin.
“What’s wrong?”he murmurs.
