Page 9 of Ruthless Mr. Ricco

Dark delight bubbles in my core, but beyond vague, broken sensations, I don’t remember the rest of the night.

But he said he’d hire me.

I set the folder in my lap but hesitate before I flip it open.Half relieved, half disbelieving, I study the cover page.

He really is offering me a job.

I blink at the letterhead.Double take at his title.Triple check his name.

Matteo Ricco is the founder and CEO of New York City’s fastest growing multi-billion-dollar company.

I flip through the pages, expecting humiliating conditions and disappointment, but although the job requirements are overly vague, it covers all the topics expected from an employment contract from a massive company, including an ironclad nondisclosure agreement and several clauses on trade secrets and such.

My eye catches on the benefits package and annual pay.It can’t be right.If I ever make this much as a lawyer, it won’t be for at least ten years as I build my clientele and prove my worth, and it certainly won’t be with such amazing health insurance or so many vacation days.

I lift my eyes from the paper and study Matteo’s face.

“Why?”I ask.

“I keep my promises,” he sneers.

I fight the urge to shrink back at the accusation in his tone.I can understand him being angry if he thinks I manipulated him into offering me a job in front of everyone, but this goes beyond that.The hatred in his eyes runs deeper.

I don’t know what promise he thinks I broke, but the hardness in his expression warns against prying.He’ll no doubt rescind his offer and say infinitely crueler things than his parting words eleven years ago if I push back.With my head splitting and stomach roiling, I can’t handle his vitriol now.

“What about last night?”I ask.

He quirks a brow, silently judging me while demanding I elaborate.I swallow and choose my words carefully, wishing I could remember everything.

“Don’t most companies have rules against fraternization?”

“I wouldn’t call what you did to me fraternization,” he quips.

Embarrassment heats my face as he confirms my lack of judgement.I was an idiot for drinking alcohol.

“Then what would you call it?”

“A precursor.”

I stiffen at what I can only view as a threat.

“Did you drug me?”I accuse.

His eyes darken and menace wafts from him.

“Don’t insult me.We both know I don’t need to drug you to fuck you,” he growls.

I blanche.

“Did you?Fuck me?”

I don’t know what insane part of me spurts the words—there’s no way I lost my virginity to Matteo Ricco without some obvious sign—but I can’t rescind them as they echo in the silence.

He steps around the corner of the bed and invades my space.

“You’d know if I had,” he snarls.

I brace my palm on the mattress behind me and lean away from him.