Page 36 of My Ghost

“It’s really good,” I tell him when I’m finished.He nods in acknowledgement and signals for the plates to be cleared away.Suddenly a thought flits over my mind.“Matteo,” I croak.“I can’t pay for lunch here.”

“Relax, little ghost.Lunch comes with the job.”He looks amused.

Good for him, I think sourly.He was the one stealing my money after all.

When the waiter offers desserts, I decline.“Just an espresso, please, I’m full.It was delicious!”He smiles and nods in thanks before marching off to get our espressos.

When he is back, he puts our cups in front of us and places a black envelope in front of Matteo.He picks it up with a thoughtful face and rips it open to peek inside.

Then he slides the envelope to me.

I eye it warily.“What’s that?”

“It’s for you.”

I gingerly pick it up.It is heavier than expected.Inside is a black card.I pull it out and notice the black metal credit card attached to it.

I frown at Matteo.“I don’t understand.”

“It’s your card, use it for whatever you want.”

“I don’t need it, I have my own money.That is, when you return it.”

“Won’t be happening, sweetheart, I’m keeping it as…insurance.You better get used to the card.”

“What?”I shriek, gobsmacked.“You can’t keep my money, that’s theft.”

“Call the cops,” comes his impassive reply.

I am going to scream.Matteo stands and starts to round the table toward me, but I’m already jumping up to face him.“You’re infuriating!”I snap.

“So you told me.”He turns and starts to walk away unhurriedly.I follow behind, card still clutched in one hand, the other fisted so tight my nails dig into my palm.

When we’re back in the elevator, I hold the card up to him, willing him to take it back.

He stares at me, face unreadable, but he doesn’t move to take it.Then the elevator doors open and he sidesteps me to walk out.He stalks toward his office, with me following like an angry puppy.Once we are in his office, I close the door and slap the card on his desk.

“Just take it back and return my money,” I cry.“I swear I’ll work for you until the job is done.”

He shakes his head, the movement slow and final.

“So you keep my money and now what?You give me an allowance so you can keep me on a leash?”

“That’s not a leash, there’s no limit.And not a single cent will come from your…funds.”

I blink.“Excuse me?”

“This card is a copy of mine.There’s no limit.You use it, it clears.”

The room spins for a second.But then anger rises again.I glare at him, jaw clenched so tight I can’t utter a single word.

Okay, he wants to play it the hard way.The first chance I get, I’m buying a damn car.The fastest, shiniest, most expensive thing I can find.

Chapter Twenty

Matteo

I quickly pull up my bank app while I’m waiting for the elevator, hoping to see movements other than the daily after-lunch expenses.But there is nothing, not that I am surprised.I’ve set up notifications and there has been none since noon, like every day this week.Monitoring the account linked to the card I gave Erin has become my new obsession.Not to control her expenses but because I’m curious what she does with it.At first she didn’t use it at all, but then she started to spend in one single place, a ridiculously overpriced coffee shop near The Bastion.Every day, she surprises me with increasingly imaginative drinks like ‘Limited-reserve Panama Gesha micro-lot, slow-extracted by hand and served in a gold-infused cup to preserve temperature and aroma’ for sixty bucks a cup.Whatever that shit is, I hope she enjoys it.Her daily dedication to rile me has me raising my brows in appreciation and admiration every time, and I’ve come to wait for the notification like a junkie craving his next fix.Because let’s face it, she does it only to provoke me.And for now she’s used the card only for these sole daily expenses.She must’ve found another way to some money.I chuckle as I step into the elevator.My resourceful little ghost.She doesn’t know that her rebellion only amuses me.She could buy hundreds of luxury cars, and it would still feel like scooping out the ocean with her bare hands.Hell, she could fucking buy hundreds of car factories, and my bankers wouldn’t even raise a brow.What it does, however, is hook me more each day.Because every monetary middle finger she gives me is proof that she’s thinking about me, unintentionally letting me take care of her, and fuck me if that doesn’t make my wretched heart kick in my chest.