Page 49 of Pietro

"Fuck you, Liam," I mutter to the empty office, tossing my phone onto the desk.

He's right, and we both know it. I've been avoiding Nora for days, trying to get my head straight after that kiss.

Watch me.

Two words that sound suspiciously like a declaration of war.

If Nora Kelly wants war, she has no idea what she's in for.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

PIETRO

I'm reviewing shipment manifests when my phone rings. Josh's name flashes on the screen.

"What?" I answer, not bothering with pleasantries.

"Sir, Miss Kelly asked for a ride downtown to Osteria Langhe at seven tonight."

My pen freezes mid-signature. "She what?"

"She requested transportation to a restaurant on Armitage Avenue. Should I arrange it?"

I lean back in my chair, a cold feeling settling in my gut. "Did she say why?"

"No, sir. Just the location and time."

"Fine. Handle it." I hang up before he can respond.

Two fucking days. Two days of this silent war between us since she stormed out of my office. Giulia told me Nora takes dinner alone in her room. Two days of seeing her only at the company, where she's perfectly professional and completely distant.

And now she wants to go to a restaurant? Alone?

Every man watching her has strict instructions to report her movements. Not that she's done much. Work, compound, repeat. She's been taking lunch with the other employees despite my direct order not to, but I've refused to confront her about it. I won't give her the satisfaction of knowing it bothers me.

But a restaurant at night is different.

I grab my phone and type:Why do you need a ride to a restaurant?

Her response comes quickly:Since I'm not allowed to go anywhere alone, I need transportation.

That's not what I'm asking and she knows it. My fingers tighten around the phone.

With who?

Three dots appear, disappear, then reappear. She's thinking about her answer. Making me wait.

Finally:Mark.

Just his fucking name. Like it's nothing.

White-hot rage floods my system. Mark. The accountant. The boring, safe accountant who had the balls to ask out what's mine.

I'm going to kill him. Slowly. Painfully. I'll make him disappear so thoroughly his own mother won't remember he existed.

My phone buzzes again with another message from her:Is that a problem?

I can practically see the challenge in her eyes as she typed it. The same defiance from two days ago when she told me to watch her.