CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

The morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Rafael's corner office, casting long shadows across the mahogany desk where he sat reviewing the preliminary reports for the G & O project. His fingers drummed against the leather surface as he read through Natalie's initial proposals, each page revealing a level of sophistication that both impressed and unsettled him.

She was too good at this. Too intuitive about what clients wanted, too skilled at reading between the lines of complex negotiations. It was the kind of expertise that came from years of experience, yet her official resume showed gaps that didn't quite add up.

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. "Come in."

Isabella entered, her crimson dress a stark contrast against the muted tones of his office. She moved with calculated grace, her heels clicking against the marble floor in a rhythm that had once been comforting but now felt almost predatory.

"Good morning, Rafael." She settled into the chair across from his desk without invitation, crossing her legs in a way that drew attention to the dangerous curves beneath her fitted dress. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

"The G & O reports." He didn't look up from the documents. "What do you need?"

"I've been thinking about our conversation yesterday, about the new project structure." Isabella leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to that intimate tone she'd perfected over the years. "I'm concerned about putting so much responsibility on someone so new to our organization."

Rafael finally lifted his eyes, studying her face. There was something different in her expression today—a tightness around her eyes, a forced quality to her smile that hadn't been there before Natalie's arrival.

"Natalie has proven herself capable."

"Has she?" Isabella's perfectly manicured fingers traced the edge of his desk. "I've been doing some research into her background. There are inconsistencies in her employment history. Gaps that don't quite align with her stated experience."

"Such as?"

"The Milan architecture firm she claims to have worked for? They have no record of a Natalie De Luca in their employment database. I called personally." Isabella's voice carried the satisfaction of someone who believed they'd uncovered a smoking gun. "And her references from New York are suspiciously vague. Generic responses, no specific project details."

Rafael set down the reports, his attention now fully focused on Isabella. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting that we don't know who she really is. That perhaps we should be more cautious about bringing her into our most sensitive operations." Isabella's hand moved closer to his across the desk. "I'm only thinking of your safety, Rafael. Of the organization's security."

For a moment, the office fell silent except for the distant hum of Milan traffic far below. Rafael studied Isabella's face, noting the way her pupils dilated slightly when she spoke about Natalie, the subtle tension in her jaw that suggested this was about more than professional concern.

"I appreciate your diligence," he said finally, his voice neutral. "But I've made my decision about the G & O project. Natalie will lead it."

Isabella's smile faltered for just a fraction of a second. "Of course. I was simply—"

"I know what you were doing." Rafael's tone carried a warning that made Isabella straighten in her chair. "And I'm telling you that it's unnecessary. If I need an investigation into Natalie's background, I'll order one myself."

"Rafael—"

"Was there anything else?" The dismissal was clear in his voice.

Isabella stood slowly, her composure carefully reconstructed. "No. Nothing else." She paused at the door, turning back with a look that was equal parts wounded and determined. "I've been loyal to you for years, Rafael. I hope you remember that."

After she left, Rafael found himself staring at the closed door, his mind churning with questions he couldn't quite formulate. Isabella's concerns weren't entirely without merit—he had noticed the gaps in Natalie's background, the way she seemed to know things about the business that went beyond what he'd told her. But there was something else, something that made him reluctant to dig too deeply into her past.

Perhaps it was the way she challenged him in meetings, never backing down from his intensity. Or the way she seemed to anticipate his thoughts, finishing his sentences with an accuracy that was both thrilling and unnerving. Whatever it was, he found himself protecting her from Isabella's suspicions, even as his own doubts grew.

* * *

Three floors below, Natalie sat in the conference room reviewing financial reports when her phone buzzed with a text from Lorenzo: *Package delivered to your office. Red folder. Time to plant the seeds.*

She smiled, closing the financial documents and making her way to her office. The red folder sat on her desk, innocuous enough to pass for routine correspondence. Inside were carefully doctored financial records showing minor discrepancies in several recent transactions—discrepancies that could be traced back to Isabella's team.

The beauty of the plan was its subtlety. Nothing dramatic enough to trigger a major investigation, but significant enough to raise questions about Isabella's oversight. Small amounts that could be explained away as clerical errors, but in patterns that suggested either incompetence or something more sinister.

Natalie spent the next hour reviewing the documents, memorizing the details, preparing her presentation. She would need to approach this delicately—not as an accusation, but as a concerned colleague bringing potential issues to light.

By the time she finished, the afternoon sun was slanting through her office windows, casting everything in golden light. She gathered the documents and made her way to Rafael's office, her heels clicking against the marble floors with the same rhythm Isabella had used that morning.

His secretary waved her through without question—another small victory in the ongoing war for access and influence.

"Rafael?" She knocked gently on his open door. "Do you have a few minutes? I've found something I think you should see."

He looked up from his computer, and for a moment, she saw something flicker in his expression—a combination of wariness and anticipation that made her pulse quicken.

"Of course. Come in."

She settled into the chair Isabella had occupied that morning, noting the way Rafael's eyes tracked her movements. There was an intensity in his gaze that hadn't been there in their earlier interactions, as if he were trying to solve a puzzle he couldn't quite see.

"I've been reviewing the financial reports for the past quarter," she began, spreading the documents across his desk. "And I've noticed some irregularities that I think you should be aware of."

Rafael leaned forward, his attention focused on the papers. "What kind of irregularities?"

"Small discrepancies in several transactions. Nothing major individually, but when you look at the pattern..." She pointed to the highlighted sections, her finger tracing the numbers. "It suggests either systematic errors in data entry or possible skimming."

His jaw tightened as he studied the documents. "How much are we talking about?"

"Roughly fifty thousand euros over the past six months. Again, not enough to significantly impact operations, but enough to suggest we have either a training issue or a security concern."

Rafael's eyes moved from the documents to her face. "Which department processed these transactions?"

"Isabella's team handled the approvals." Natalie kept her voice carefully neutral. "I'm not suggesting deliberate misconduct, of course. It could simply be an oversight issue that needs to be addressed."

For a long moment, Rafael said nothing, his gaze fixed on the financial reports. When he finally looked up, there was something in his expression that made Natalie's breath catch—a combination of calculation and something that might have been admiration.

"You have a good eye for detail," he said finally. "Most people would have missed these patterns."

"I've always been thorough when it comes to financial oversight." She leaned back in her chair, affecting casual professionalism. "In my experience, small problems have a way of becoming large ones if they're not addressed quickly."

"Indeed." Rafael gathered the documents into a neat stack. "I'll have these reviewed by our internal audit team. Discretely, of course."

"Of course."

He studied her for another moment, and Natalie felt the weight of his scrutiny like a physical presence. There was something different in the way he looked at her now—not just professional interest, but something deeper and more complex.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention," he said finally. "It shows the kind of commitment to the organization that I value."

"I'm just doing my job." She stood to leave, then paused at the door. "Rafael? I hope you know that you can trust me. Whatever issues we might face, I'm here to help solve them, not create them."

After she left, Rafael sat alone in his office, the financial reports spread before him like pieces of a puzzle he couldn't quite solve. The discrepancies were real—he could see that immediately. But the timing of their discovery, coming so soon after Isabella's warnings about Natalie's background, felt like more than coincidence.

He thought about the way Natalie had presented the information—not as an attack on Isabella, but as a concerned colleague raising legitimate questions. It was masterfully done, he had to admit. Whether it was genuine concern or calculated manipulation, he couldn't tell.

What bothered him most was how much he wanted it to be genuine.

His phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. Isabella's name appeared on the screen.

"Yes?"

"Rafael, I was hoping we could continue our conversation from this morning. Perhaps over dinner?"

He looked at the financial reports, then at the door through which Natalie had just exited. "I'm afraid I'll be working late tonight. Perhaps another time."

"Of course. I understand." But there was something in Isabella's tone that suggested she understood more than she was letting on.

After he hung up, Rafael found himself walking to his office window, looking out at the Milan skyline. Somewhere in the city below, both Isabella and Natalie were probably planning their next moves in whatever game they were playing. The question was whether he was a player or a prize.

He smiled grimly, his reflection ghostlike in the glass. Let them play their games. He'd been in this business long enough to know that the most dangerous opponents were often the most attractive ones.

But as he turned back to his desk, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something crucial—some piece of the puzzle that would explain why Natalie felt so familiar, why her presence in his office felt like both salvation and threat.

The financial reports sat on his desk like an accusation, evidence of either Isabella's carelessness or Natalie's cunning. Either way, the war for his attention had just escalated, and Rafael found himself looking forward to seeing who would make the next move.

In the distance, thunder rumbled across the Milan sky, promising storms to come.