The Frame-Up (The Golden Arrow #1)(74)
With only partial attention, I listen as Matteo casually questions Tej about his alibi for the night of the explosion, then about the afternoon when I saw the Golden Arrow at the Casey mansion. I don’t know how he sounds so normal asking people these things, but Tej and his wife are all smiles, sharing their alibis without a second thought. I can tell when Matteo starts using platitudes like “Maybe we’ll see you next weekend for the movie marathon” that he’s ready to move on. I look around for a suitable reason to drag Matteo off and find our next victim.
“I’m sorry about the promotion,” Tej says, snapping my attention back to the conversation.
“Sorry?”
Tej’s eyes widen, and he looks a bit like he wants to eat his words. “Yeah. Um . . . I guess they’re going to announce it formally on Monday, but I thought they would have told you at the same time as Andy.”
My eyes fly across the room to where Andy and Casey Junior are laughing over drinks. Most definitely celebratory, bro-hug, good-ol-boys-club, no-girls-allowed drinks. All around the table, everyone is frozen, watching my reaction. And I wait for the wave of anger, of injustice, of anything to crash over me. But it never comes. In my head, I’m clinging to the life raft of Ryan’s words. And my conversation with Lawrence. I’m shocked to find I’m a little bummed, but . . . that’s it.
“Andy was a good choice,” I say carefully. “And sure, I’m bummed, but I guess this means that there’s an opening for team leader now, right?” I shoot Matteo a look to gauge his reaction. He looks almost . . . proud of me. That’s one I’m not used to seeing on my dates’ faces.
The band strikes up a jazzy swing tune just as the conversation wraps up, and Tej’s wife grabs his arm. I can tell they’re looking for an easy way to extricate themselves from the awkward conversation, and I don’t blame them. “We have to dance at least once. Come on. Maybe MG and Matteo will join us?”
In a complete reversal from the day in the lobby where he accepted the movie invitation without asking me, Matteo is hemming and hawing while I throw out a cheery “Sure, we’d love to.” I know there’s no other way to get Matteo on the dance floor, and the music drags at me. I want to just forget about Andy’s promotion for a minute. I don’t have the time to add that to my list of internal grievances right now, and dancing is the perfect way to achieve that.
“Come on, it’s just one dance. We can scope out our next target while we’re out there. And this music is perfect for our costumes.” It may be a nerdy statement, but it’s true. I can imagine no better music for our characters to dance to.
He protests but follows me out onto the floor, where he grabs my hand with one of his and my waist with the other. Slightly old-school, but I can dig it. We find a jazzy rhythm, and I shoot a shocked look up at him. “Matteo, you can dance.”
“Why are you so surprised?” He frowns, and I can tell he’s trying to keep this professional. It’s starting to push my buttons because in this moment, I dislike Detective Kildaire. He’s stuffy and focused on the case. Which is what I should be, except I’m swept away by the capes, the costumes, the jazz music, the dancing. I can’t help myself. The story thread I’m picking up tonight is deeply romantic, in the old-fashioned sense.
I want Matteo back.
“Why am I surprised that you’ve got rhythm? You drive a Prius, and you drink tea.”
He throws me a good-natured scowl, a piece of his dark messy hair falling across his forehead. My heartbeat accelerates. Not only is he a man in uniform tonight; he’s a man in costumed uniform. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anything so sexy in my entire life.
“Are you really okay about the promotion? I know you really wanted it.”
I think for a moment before meeting his gaze. “Yes, I think I really am. I’ve got some other pretty awesome things going on in my life right now, and it just seems kind of . . . small. Something I can work around.”
His hand tightens on my back, and he pulls me just an inch closer. This case still stands like a wall between us, but Matteo and I are drawn together like magnets through it. If the case were over and I could finally be honest about everything, well, there wouldn’t be anything between us anymore. My mind goes to all sorts of scenarios with nothing between us, and my face grows warm.
“Don’t you look at me like that,” he warns, a friendly smile plastered on his face. He spins me out, then back in, letting our bodies crash together just a smidge too much for propriety before setting me back on my feet. “We have work to do.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I’m looking for clues,” I say, playing along. The music and the dancing and Matteo’s hands on my waist are making me giddy, the heady atmosphere of the party not helping either.
“Sure you are—” Matteo drops my hand suddenly and looks over my shoulder. “Agent Sosa. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Apparently.”
I turn around, schooling my features into a pleased surprise. “Oh, hello again. We met at the warehouse.”
“Yes, I remember. You’re consulting on the case.” Her voice is chilly. There’s the reminder. I can tell she doesn’t approve of Matteo’s conduct.
“Are you here as a guest? Or are you also here for research on the case?” I make sure to add a sweet smirk to cover my pointed explanation of why Matteo is here with me.