Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
I don’t mind telling him, “It’s personal all right.”
“Does Luigi know?”
“Not yet, and I prefer to keep it that way.” I add with a tight jaw, “For now.”
At some point, when Anya starts to show, Luigi will demand answers. I won’t be able to keep the truth from him for long, and he’s not going to like it. My alibi is pregnant with the child of a justice who holds a lot of power in the state. People with those kinds of ties are a danger to the business. Luigi will see it as another motivation to kill her.
Dante raises his hands. “Don’t look as if you’re about to chomp off my head. What’s said between us stays in this room.”
Yes, it does. That’s why he’s the only man I can trust with this task.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” he calls after me as I stalk to the elevator. “Do you want me to organize you a fake date to keep Giorgio off your back?”
I pause at the exit. The bouncer pushes the button to call the elevator.
Turning to Dante, I say, “I have a date.”
He goes still. The shock that washes over his features is a foreign look on him. Little surprises him.
The swoosh at my back announces the opening of the elevator doors. I get inside. When the first floor number lights up, the doors close on the image of Dante staring at me with a slack jaw.
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Anya
After Saverio is gone, I read the history he mapped out for us. It’s a beautiful story. Believable. Under different circumstances, it would’ve been romantic. I bet if he tells the tale at a party, people will hang on his lips. The falseness is bittersweet, tormenting me with something I’ll never have, and as I try to make the untruth my own, a silly but deeply hurtful sentimentality settles in my chest.
Not wanting to dwell on the sweet narrative of the make-belief love story, I slam the laptop shut with a sigh. This isn’t my life. My life is a lot more complicated than the one in the Word document. For now, Saverio may pay my medical bills, an arrangement I’m both grateful for and uncomfortable with, but when our fake relationship comes to an end, I still have to take care of my baby and my mom. Making sure I’m financially independent remains my priority, which means my job still comes first.
I grab my bag and test if Saverio is good for his word by deactivating the alarm by the front door before unlocking and opening it.
One of the men in the dark suits steps up. “Can I get you anything, Ms. Brennan?”
My gaze is drawn to the gun in the body holster where his jacket has slipped aside. “I’m going to work.”
“Wait here,” he says, taking a phone from his pocket. “I’ll signal the driver.”
“What about Saverio? Didn’t he just leave with his driver? I can take the subway.”
“Mr. De Luca drove himself,” the man says in an emotionless tone before addressing the person on the other end of the line. “Ms. Brennan needs to go in to the office.”
Not a second later, the black car rolls down the circular driveway from the side of the garage and pulls up in front of the house. Another car with two men in suits stops behind him. My bodyguards, I assume.
The driver gets out and opens the door for me. He’s an elderly gentleman with a tuft of white hair and a stern expression. The collar of his shirt is starched, and his black suit doesn’t sport a single crease.
“Thank you, Kevin,” I say as I get inside.
He closes the door without replying.
When he gets behind the wheel, I smile at him in the rearview mirror. “Thank you for driving me.”
He gives a tight nod. It seems Kevin isn’t big on making conversation. Respecting his boundaries, I stay quiet.
It’s already three o-clock when he drops me off in front of the accounting firm. Ms. Price doesn’t hide her disgruntlement when I knock on her door to tell her I just got in. I’ve barely settled behind my desk before she barges into the office with a pile of folders in her arms.
Dumping them in my in-tray, she says, “Make sure everything is filed before the end of the day.”
I stare at her with bafflement as she marches with a stiff back through the door. I catch the gaze of my colleague, Jasmine, who sits on my left. She gives me a pitying smile.
The balance sheets I’m working on are on a deadline, but I don’t dare to argue with Ms. Price. Normally, the senior accountants hand out the work, but Ms. Price steps in from time to time when tasks are allocated.
Taking the heavy pile of papers in my arms, I trudge down to the vault. The two women who do the filing look up from the table in the far corner where they’re working. They spare me a fleeting glance before lowering their heads over the papers spread out in front of them again.