The Truth About De Campo(56)

A potent surge of anger raged through Matteo. He strode forward until he was toe-to-toe with his brother. “You always think I care less, Riccardo. That everyone cares less than you do. Well, you’d be surprised if you dug deep. Because I care. I care more than almost any damn person in this company.” He pointed a finger at him. “I will win this for you, but on my own terms. Quinn Davis is nonnegotiable. Take it or leave it. That’s my offer.”

A long moment passed as Riccardo’s hard gaze rested on his face.

“Do it then.”





CHAPTER THIRTEEN

SUMMER IN CHICAGO got just about as hot as anywhere.

Quinn nudged the café door open with her hip, keeping her two iced coffees tucked to her chest as a wall of heat greeted her. The roiling, hundred-degree temperatures that had blanketed the city all weekend had stayed with them for the start of the workweek. She’d had a trickle of sweat rolling down her back not two minutes down the sidewalk.

She longed for the cooling breezes of the Caribbean. For the peace she’d found there.... Yes, they’d worked like dogs getting Le Belle Bleu up and running, but being with Matteo had made her feel settled in a way she’d never experienced before. They had been in their own private bubble, sheltered from the world. And maybe that was the problem. As soon as reality had hit, it had felt as if everything was falling apart.

She wound her way around a group of tourists, and headed for the gold facade of the Davis offices. The minute she’d taken one step into the O’Hare airport, Matteo’s distant “I’ll call you” ringing in her ears, the familiar anxiety had surfaced. The need to be someone she didn’t want to be anymore. The uncertainty of who she wanted to be.

Then she’d faced off against her father. He’d been furious, as expected, questioning her commitment to the job with no regard for her personal feelings which had, in turn, prompted her anger and the devolution of their conversation into a whole lot of issues that had nothing to do with the deal. But she’d convinced him and the board to keep De Campo in the final two. Her father had appointed Walter Driscoll, Luxe’s Chief Operating Officer, to take her place as the head of the committee, smoothed Daniel Williams’s feathers, and her fall from grace had been cemented.

Now she could focus on doing her job. Except, she thought, lips compressing as she pushed her way through the revolving doors of the Davis building, everyone she worked with seemed to be reveling in the controversy, whispering behind her back. The tabloids had been having a field day, and worst of all, she missed Matteo like crazy.

She’d responded to his texts and calls to see if she was all right with polite if brief responses, as if her self-preservation was finally kicking in. Because if she’d had reservations before of things working out with a playboy like Matteo, the media coverage over the weekend had persuaded her she could never live in a fishbowl like this.

She exited the elevator on the executive floors, stopped at her PA’s desk to drop off her coffee and pick up her messages, and shook her head as Kathryn held up a newspaper. “No more. I can’t take it. Let it be a mystery to me.”

“Perhaps you might prefer the life-size version lounging in your office,” her PA purred.

Her heart jumped—raced in her chest like a jackhammer. She pressed the sheaf of papers against it. “Matteo is in my office?”

Kathryn nodded with a sly smile. “I didn’t think he needed an appointment.”

The prevailing attitude from everyone here all day. An intense, persistent interest in her personal life. Quinn the ice queen demystified as a human after all.

She stood there torn by how much she missed him and the desire to be her smart, rational self.

Kathryn flashed her an amused look. “Are you just going to leave him in there?”

She pursued her lips. “I’m trying to decide how the new Quinn would do this.”

“I would start by closing the door,” her PA said archly. “I like the new Quinn, by the way.”

So did she. Although she was scary as hell and none too certain about the transformation.

Minimalist, fern-endowed and done in creamy, soft colors, her office was the perfect backdrop for a sensational-looking Matteo, draped across her desk, immersed in his smartphone. Dressed in dark pants and a light gray shirt with a contrasting darker charcoal tie, he looked like a cool, elegant drink of water.

She stopped inside the door and stuck her hands on her hips. “The pitch is not until Friday, you know.”

He looked up and smiled that slow, easy grin that made her already excited heart go pitter-patter. “I’m here to see you.”