Page 39 of Pietro
None of that matters anyway. I have a plan. Work here, save every penny of my salary, then disappear properly this time.Somewhere Declan and dad will never find me. Maybe Canada. Maybe further.
The kiss was a mistake. A moment of weakness after nearly dying. It won't happen again.
I tell myself this even as my treacherous heart races every time his door opens.
The phone rings, saving me from my spiraling thoughts. I throw myself into work. Anything to avoid thinking about the way his hands felt in my hair, the growl he made when I bit his lip, the?—
"Get Liam on the line." Pietro's voice crackles through the intercom, making me jump. "And bring the August shipping manifests when you have them."
The manifests. They’re in his office. I gather my composure and knock twice before entering.
He's standing at the windows, hands in his pockets, shoulders straight.
"The manifests." I move behind his desk, hyperaware of him tracking my movements in the window's reflection. I pull out the correct folder, but as I turn, my heel catches on the rug’s edge. The folder flies from my grasp, papers scattering under his desk. "Shit."
I crouch down, reaching under the heavy mahogany, my fingers chasing loose sheets. The tight fit of my skirt makes it awkward, forcing me to bend lower, closer to him.
When I straighten, papers in hand, I find him watching me. Not in the window's reflection anymore. He's turned fully, and his stare is a physical weight. The air in my lungs turns to lead. My next breath won't come.
"Your captains will be here in twenty minutes." My voice wavers.
"I know."
Neither of us moves. The space between us hums with electricity, with memory, with want. His gaze drops to my mouth for a fraction of a second before jerking away.
"Leave the files." The words come out rough. "Go."
I set them on his desk and escape. Twenty minutes until his meeting. Twenty minutes to reconstruct my shattered control.
The captains arrive in a cluster. Tony, Sal, and two others whose names I haven't learned. They're all business, serious faces and darker suits, filing into Pietro's office with barely a glance my way.
The door stays open. Pietro's new policy since I started—everything transparent. Or maybe he just wants me to hear, to understand his world.
"The Irish are getting bolder." Tony's voice carries clearly. "After last night's ambush, we need to?—"
"I'm handling it." Pietro cuts him off. "Double the security on all shipments. No one moves alone."
I focus on my computer screen, but I feel his eyes on me through the doorway. When I glance up, he's staring. The men around his conference table fade into background noise. There's just him and me.
I lift my water bottle to take a sip, then pause. Slowly, I run my tongue along my lower lip, catching a drop of water.
Pietro's jaw clenches so hard I can see the muscle jump from across the room. His hands flatten on the table, and Sal stops mid-sentence to follow his boss's gaze.
"Is there a problem?" Sal's voice is cautious. He glances from Pietro to me, then back again.
"No." Pietro's voice could cut glass. "Continue."
But his eyes stay on me for three more seconds before he forces his attention back to his men. I turn back to my screen. The power to affect him like this it's intoxicating. Dangerous and completely stupid.
The meeting drags for another hour. Every time I look up, he's watching. Every time he looks away, I watch him.
When they finally file out, Pietro remains seated, his eyes fixed on me through the doorway.
"We need to review the Torrino contracts."
It's not a request. I gather my tablet and enter his office, the door closing behind me with finality. The space suddenly feels smaller, the air thicker.
"Sit." He gestures to the chair across from his desk.
