Matteo (19 page)

Chapter 39

The printer next to my desk rumbles to life, spitting out page after page of the letter of intent I asked my new lawyer to prepare outlining the terms of my offer to sell the
New York Flame
to Dove. I’d told that woman to keep the document simple but from the looks of it, ‘simple’ hovers around 35 pages.

Lawyers
…

Once the printer stops vomiting out paper, I scoop up the document and shoot Dove a text message, telling her to stop by my office.

Within a few minutes, she’s standing in my doorway, a mug of coffee in hand. “Hey,” she says as she drops into a chair. She looks utterly exhausted.

“Whoa – you look like you were up to no good last night,” I remark. “Hot date?” I throw her a suggestive wink.

“I wish,” she groans, rubbing her fist against her tired eyes. This is the first time I’ve seen her with bags under her eyes and without a bright shade of lipstick painted on her lips. “I was up all night reading and researching and trying to absorb all I need to know to run this damn company.”

I nod at her. “Hmm. Good thinking.” I staple together the corner of the letter of intent and slide it across the desk to her. “The lawyer emailed me a draft of the sale document. Read it through and let me know if we need to change anything.”

Dove nods as she quickly scans through the document. Her palm slides over her mouth as she tries, unsuccessfully, to stifle a yawn.

“I’ll call her to set up an appointment at her law firm next week so we can sign this baby and get it over with.” I reach for my cellphone and check the time. I’m meeting Matteo for lunch in 25 minutes.

I’m so excited to show him the letter of intent. I know he’ll be thrilled that I’ve decided to sell the blog. I haven’t forgotten the look of disappointment on his face the first time he confronted me about my involvement with the
New York Flame
. It haunts me. I know that he loves me, but I want him to be
proud
of me. I want to be worthy of him. Selling the blog is the only way to redeem myself.

I yank open the bottom drawer of my desk and grab my compact out of my purse. I give myself a onceover before swiping a thin layer of shimmery taupe gloss over my lips.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dove stand wearily and scrub her hand across her sleepy face. Just then, that intern – Charlie – pops into the doorway, excitement knitted into his features. “Hey Ellie – can I bother you for a second?”

“Absolutely not,” I say with a light giggle as I bounce to my feet and slide the strap of my purse onto my shoulder. “Whatever it is, Dove can deal with it.” I push my copy of the letter of intent into my purse and grab my beat-up leather jacket.

Charlie’s shoulders slump and the enthusiasm drains from his face. Dove turns to me, her forehead wrinkled. “Just where are
you
going?” she questions.

“Lunch date,” I say, beaming. No need to share details just yet. She’s a tabloid reporter – soon enough, she’ll find out on her own that I’ve been dating Matteo Moretti, the city’s most eligible bachelor.

Her eyebrow arches at me. “But you haven’t approved of the posts going up on the site today.”

I shrug and toss her a carefree smile. “Use your discretion. You’re about to be the new owner.”

With that, I push past a tired-looking Dove and a stunned-looking Charlie and charge towards the elevator.

Chapter 40

I sit at my desk, thumbing through a zoning by-law that’s preventing one of our smaller clients from erecting condos on a vacant lot they own in Brooklyn. I can still taste Ellie on my lips and it causes my mouth to curl into a devilish grin. After our quick lunch in midtown, I’d given my driver a half-hour break so that I could pull Ellie into the back of the car and I feast on her delectable little cunt for dessert. Now, I’m good and satisfied on so many levels.

Anna-Maria comes bursting through my office door. “What is it?” I say, glancing up at her for a fraction of a second. She’s frowning – she’s been frowning at me ever since she saw Ellie at my apartment a few weeks back.

“Catalina’s here. With Tilly,” she announces pointedly. That captures my attention immediately. They were supposed to be having a play-date at the park with some of Tilly’s new friends from ballet class. That’s when the sound of a child crying in the hallway registers in my mind.

I jump out of my seat and round my desk quickly. “Is something wrong?”

Anna-Maria shoots daggers at me as she spins around and walks out the door. I’m hot on her heels.

Tilly sees me as soon as I step out of my office. She runs to me. I stoop down and gather her up into my arms, swiping the tears away from her eyes. “What’s wrong with her?” I ask, my concerned gaze focused on Catalina.

“We were at the park and then we were surrounded by a group of photographers,” she says, her eyes narrow and her expression grim.

“Photographers?” My mind is spinning. I feel rage brewing inside of me. I’ve done everything in my power to protect Tilly from the paparazzi. I’ve been on a mission to protect her identity from those vultures and make sure that she has a normal childhood.

But now they know about her.

I place a soft kiss against her scalp as my little girl whimpers in my arms. “It’s okay, sweetie. You’re safe now,” I say as I hold her tightly against my chest.

Just then, Madison comes stomping down the hall, a loose sheet of paper gripped in her hand.

“Maddie…” Her name falls past my lips before I’ve formulated a sentence in my mind.

“Auntie,” Tilly whimpers as she lets go of my neck and reaches for my sister.

The employees working at the cubicles around us begin to discreetly throw curious glimpses our way.

Madison scoops my daughter out of my arms and kisses her cheek before glaring at me. “Look what you’ve done, you jerk,” she growls, shoving the sheet of paper at me. The
New York Flame
logo sits at the top. “Your
girlfriend
just posted an entire exposé about Tilly.”

Chapter 41

The doorman gives me yet another furtive glance as I pace the marble floor of the lobby, chewing on what’s left of my fingernail. He picks up the phone and makes a call, whispering quietly into the receiver. For a moment, I wonder if he’s just called security to come and haul me out of the building. After all, I
have
been here for over an hour.

I peer out the floor-to-ceiling windows looking onto the sidewalk and sight a few familiar faces – Yassef works freelance but sells most of his stuff to
NewYorkBlabber.com
; Colin works for the
Twisted NYC
webmag; last I heard, Jared was trying to set up his own gossip blog.

They’re all here, cameras ready, eager to catch a glimpse of Tilly. They’re all here because of
me
.

Stupid, stupid, stupid girl
, I scold myself.

Yes – I’ve been fucking up at work a lot lately, but I dropped the ball in a major way today, and because of that, an innocent little girl’s life is about to change.

When Charlie walked into my office before lunch today, I wasn’t thinking straight. All I could think about was the fact that I was meeting with Matteo for lunch. When Charlie tried to speak to me, I told him to take up his concerns with Dove. I told Dove to use her discretion in choosing which articles to post on the blog today.

It totally slipped my mind that I had asked Charlie to research Matteo. It had never been my intention to turn the results of that research into an article for the blog. I only wanted to satisfy my personal curiosity about the man. But of course, Dove didn’t know that. Neither did Charlie. They saw a juicy story and they ran with it. I can’t fault either of them for that. It’s their job. It’s what they’re paid to do.

How were they supposed to know that I’m in love with Matteo and that I would want to protect the identity of his child?

So now, I’m in the lobby of his apartment, waiting for him to show up. Fuck – I have to make him understand.

He’s not going to forgive me this time. But still, I have to tell him that this wasn’t deliberate.

I’ve tried calling him a few dozen times, but I keep getting filtered straight to voicemail. He’s avoiding me. Shit – he’s done with me. Anxiety shoots through me and I wipe my clammy hands against the fabric of my dress.

I hear the elevator chime at the other end of the lobby. I spin around and see Matteo as he steps off.

“Ellie.”

He’s wearing a faded black sweatshirt that makes his shoulders look incredibly wide. His basketball shorts are dark blue and go just past his knees, revealing his powerful, sculpted calves. His hair is a glorious, disheveled mess.

I rush off in his direction. “Matteo.”

He grasps me by the shoulders when I’m within arm’s reach.

“I didn’t do it, Matteo. I would never do it. I would never post a story about Tilly. Please believe me.”

His lips curl into a small, tired smile. “I know that,” he breathes quietly.

My surprise must be etched on my face. “You believe me?”

He runs his finger down my cheek and nods.

“But you didn’t answer your phone when I called. I kept going straight to voicemail. So, I came here. But the doorman wouldn’t let me go up. And I was just waiting for you to come home so that I could explain it to you. I’ve been here for over an hour but I didn’t see you come in.” I’m talking a mile a minute.

“Shhh. It’s okay,” he murmurs, lowering his face to mine. “My phone is off. Reporters are calling off the hook. We had to come in through the parking garage. The doorman called and said you’ve been hanging around here.” He nods to the doorman, who immediately looks away, pretending he isn’t eavesdropping on our conversation.

“Is Tilly okay?” I can’t help the high pitch of my voice.

“Tilly’s fine. She was a little spooked out by all the photographers, but she’s sleeping now.” His tone is calm and steady.

I lead the way to the elevator. “It was a mistake, Matteo. I can explain. I swear.”

He grabs me by the wrist, tugging lightly. “I believe you, Ellie.”

“But it’s important that you understand how this whole mess happened,” I insist.

He breathes in sharply. “Look – my mother and sisters are upstairs. They’re pretty upset. And Michael is on his way with Ruth. Plus, Catalina is out for blood – she wants your head on a stake. Now is probably not the best time for you to come up.”

I swallow hard, purse my lips and nod. He kisses me tenderly on the forehead and twirls my hair around his finger. His hand drops away and then he turns, heading back towards the elevator.

“I’ll call you when I get home,” I say, hating the desperate sound of my voice.

He turns back and pauses. “No – I’ll contact you. When all this blows over, I’ll contact you.”

But, there’s that look in his eye – it’s the look a guy gives you after a lackluster date. He promises he’ll call you but you already know you’ll never hear from him again. It’s a look that says ‘you’re no good for me and I’m letting you down easy’.

It shreds me to see Matteo look at me that way.

I pull in a sharp breath. “Don’t lie, Matteo…Just be honest…Tell me this is goodbye.”

He doesn’t say anything. He just looks at me with forlorn eyes before turning away.