Luciana
Did I just give a blow job to my boss?
A murderer?
A guy who even warned me to run from him on numerous occasions?
During a work day?
Not even on my lunch break?
I’d fallen asleep against his chest and woken up alone. Hopefully, he wouldn’t fire me for sleeping on the job; then again, if I was going to get fired, pretty sure the blow job would be the thing to do it.
Stupid. So. Stupid!
What had I been thinking?
I wasn’t thinking. That was the problem.
He tasted so good, felt so right in my arms, and then the sadness. God, the sadness on his face. I couldn’t bear to even look at him while he kissed me like it was this invisible prayer to take it all way, to just… love him. A man I barely knew.
I wasn’t one to do that. Ever.
I’d done it once and hated it so much that I’d sworn off all men — apparently, all men but ones who should be in prison.
Even better.
I quickly put my shirt back on and the new jeans I’d left the store with and padded down to my office.
Everything was as I’d left it, so I quickly got to work. My eyes kept reverting back to the box that read, Emiliana De Lange, right along with the white horse that had been placed on top of it.
My curiosity was going to get me killed.
I shut the door and walked over then picked up the black folder I’d been looking at a few days back.
When I opened it, I nearly threw up.
The girl in the picture…
The one with the dark hair and dark eyes…
Was too pretty for words.
Like the exact sort of woman I would imagine Chase being with.
I self-consciously touched my neck for my pearls, but I hadn’t put them on. Then I touched my hair.
No headband today.
This woman wouldn’t have been caught dead in a headband.
She had on higher heels than what should be legal, black leather pants, and wore a bright smile on her face.
Huge sunglasses were placed on her head. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was a cover shot for Vogue.
The information next to it had her age, birthdate, known aliases, and kills.
Kills?
I did a double-take.
Why would she have kills?
“Twenty-seven?” That had to be a typo, right? Or was that normal? Were wives also supposed to join the mafia, like some sort of gang? I kept reading.
Miscarriage.
My heart sank.
And then I read in big bold letters, RAT.
I dropped the papers all over the floor.
Rat.
Rat.
Rat.
Pieces started falling together. Why he’d said he wasn’t sorry she was dead. Why he was so broken, why—
“Find something interesting in there?” Chase asked casually.
I dropped the papers again as shame washed over me. Great, I asked for trust and now I was snooping, not that my job wasn’t to snoop, but I highly doubted this was what he’d had in mind, trying to find out about the dead wife, the competition the—
Was that it? Did I really think she was competition?
I wasn’t even in the running.
There was no race.
Just the broken pieces she’d discarded and left behind.
The ones she’d been willing to gamble on — and lost.
Anger filled me.
And for the first time since arriving at the house, I got a glimpse into his rage, his darkness.
And I hated her for it.
I put the papers back on the desk and waited in silence for his next sentence, or maybe even a gun getting pointed at my face.
Chase didn’t say anything, just slowly walked over to me and stared down at the papers. I squeezed my eyes shut as he slammed his fist down onto them and then shoved the entire desk onto its side, causing all of my files to go flying.
Tears filled my eyes as I kept squeezing them shut, willing it to be over.
But when I opened them, he was gone.
I fell to my knees to catch my breath.
Only to have him come back into the room and join me on the floor in picking up the files.
“We should just burn these,” he said in an angry voice. “You’ve seen enough.”
“Or too much,” I said before catching myself.
I was seriously just asking to get buried in his back yard, wasn’t I?
His cold eyes met mine and then softened immediately. “I’m not going to… I won’t hurt you, Luc.”
Not physically maybe.
I exhaled. “Okay.”
“Shit, do you really think—” He ran a hand through his hair. “Do you think I would do that? Now? After…” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t.” He placed a hand over mine. “I won’t.”
I gave him a silent nod and then dropped the bomb. “She betrayed you.”
His eyes flashed.
“Maybe if you talked about it—”
“To the help?” he sneered.
I flinched as if he’d slapped me.
“Luc—”
“Go,” I said with a sad smile. “It’s my job, remember? I’m just… the help.”
He stood, crossed the room, then slammed the door behind him.
While I looked down at her picture and cursed her to hell.