by Raven Scott
Nodding to herself, Illya strode a little steadier, and my smile faltered as I turned my thoughts to what came next.
3
Carlyle
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out? I’ll admit, your little scheme was inventive, but I’m honestly curious what you thought would happen.” Leaning against the table, I frowned as Jerome simply glared at me silently, but his normally dark complexion was a pasty pale. “The errors in the transcripts idea was smart. I’ll give you that. If only you’d hid your ‘secret’ bank accounts a little better.”
“We’re about to go live, boss.” Pursing my lips thinly as I glanced behind me, I nodded curtly, and Jerry held up his hand to count down on his fingers. I stood out of the shot, of course. The last thing I needed was to be identified. It didn’t stop me from being here, have any reflective surfaces removed, and enjoying myself.
Well, enjoying that I’d finally caught these guys— torture was a bit in bad taste. I had no problem killing someone outright, but it took a special kind of person to enjoy torturing, and I wasn’t that.
Jerry is, though, so it’s all good.
Gesturing to him, I sat on the table fully and crossed my ankles. The responsible thing to do right now is, at the very least, to watch what was about to happen. My father always said no to make someone do something I wouldn’t do, but in this business, underlings were important. There was no getting around that fact, and the happier I kept my employees, the better work they did for me.
Obviously, not these five translators, but the rest of them were happy with their jobs. Of course, they all understood who they were working for and not to cause trouble.
That was the point of this, to not cause me trouble because it’d be nothing compared to what I would do. Millions being stolen from me, my father, and my brother . . . that part didn’t bother me. I despised the gall, the absolutely huge ballsack, it took for someone to actually do it.
What’s more was the simple fact that this wasn’t about a confession. I knew all I needed to at this point.
Although, Illya had seemingly astounded herself with how much she’d retained. My mind flung back to barely half an hour ago, and I could picture her strutting around all happy with herself. She did fantastically, and it was almost poetic the songs of praises these men gave her on her accent, dialect, and complete understanding of the language. I hoped she found the validation she wanted, because the things I had planned for her were no small feats, and I wanted her to excel.
A faint whimper broke the silence, and a harsh, metallic grating gyrated against my eardrums to break my reverie. Focusing on the panic dripping from Jerome’s upper lip, my eyes narrowed into slits, but he just hung his head in defeat.
How boring was that?
Jerry checked the computer one last time, offering me a nod at my silent question, and I leaned back to take a deep breath.
“Why’d you do it?” Breezing past me with a pair of pliers dangling from his fingers, Jerry’s question bounced off the concrete. Jerome didn’t twitch at the abrasive sound, and I scanned him from head to toe. The guy had everything going for him— a pretty girlfriend, international travel, money in the bank. He wore nice suits and had someone else clip his toenails, for Christ’s sake . . . yet, it wasn’t enough. “I guess it doesn’t matter. I don’t care why you did it.”
I kinda want some pizza. Apparently, even this satisfaction couldn’t keep my attention for more than a few minutes, and I sighed in defeat of my own. Hopping off the table, I left the room and quietly shut the door behind me. The basement of my headquarters was mostly storage unless I needed a room or five for things like this. Walking the bland, concrete hall towards the elevator, I stuffed my hands into my pockets and tossed back my head to groan lightly.
“As if it’s anything I haven’t done before . . . ” My mumble smacked me back in the face, and I rubbed my jaw before punching the button with my thumb. Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I quietly debated dialing Theo’s number as I waited. “I mean, I do have other security.”
Illya is probably fucking him right now, anyway. Shaking my head slightly, I stuffed my phone back in my suit pants with a sigh. It truly was too bad Marcella couldn’t keep her mouth shut— I liked her enough to screw around, to actually take time out of my business to mess with her.
Granted, that didn’t take much, but it was what it was.
Riding up to the ground floor, I headed out to the parking lot and pulled a pack of smokes out of my jacket. Glancing up as I sparked my lighter, my eyes followed the line of the sun rippling against the brick until nothing but shadow remained. Pretty soon, the trees would start changing color, and the grass would start dying.
“Are you already done, boss?” My gaze flickered to Carl as he sauntered over, and a slight smirk twitched my lips. He flipped back his long, Fabio-esque hair before pulling it into a ponytail, and I took a deep, toxic drag off my cigarette. “Where you wanna go?”
“I was thinking of grabbing pizza. I’d order in, but there’s no fun in that.” Light, brown eyes danced with amusement when they caught mine, and Carl nodded firmly.
“I know a place.” Carl was only twenty-two years old— younger than Mateo— but he was a damn good driver, and he pulled the keys out of his jeans to twirl them on his finger. “Not bringing the freak today?”
“I guess not. It’ll be nice to get out by myself for once.” Heading towards the sleek, black four-door, I took another drag of my cigarette as I cast him a curious glance. “What’s your beef with Theo, anyway?”
“You let him drive my cars.” Licking my teeth, I only shook my head a little as I popped open the back passenger door, and Carl rounded the front of the vehicle. He had a passion for cars, which was nice, but they were technically my cars. Theo’s hand didn’t necessarily mean he couldn’t drive, either, but Carl worried about his toys. I kept my lips clamped around my cigarette and didn’t reply. He was young, and if he was gonna be possessive about something, at least it was a car.
“Did those guys say anything?” Shaking my head at the question, I rolled down the window a crack as the car revved to life. “I heard one of the maids talking about how they communicated through transcripts. That’s super weird. I would’ve never thought about that.”
“What do the maids not talk about?” Maybe Illya’s right, and I should swap them out. The maids were always talking, always sharing information, but I didn’t necessarily want to get rid of them just for that. I’d had the same team for years— years— and none of them had ever leaked information unless it was amongst themselves. True, it was nice that I didn’t have to keep people up to date because the maids were talking, and most of the time, they were accurate.
Pulling out onto the street, Carl set a leisurely speed, and I sat back in my seat to suck on the butt of my smoke.
“Do you ever feel like life’s dragging on and infinitely boring?” Tossing the question out there, I held my breath for a long moment before exhaling out of my nose. By all accounts, my life shouldn’t have been boring— I had a job, I did things I enjoyed, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on why everything seemed so . . . mundane.
“Not really. To be honest, I enjoy being bored sometimes. Plus, there’s always the option to do something new.” Smoke swept out the crack above my head, and I propped my elbow on the window to hold my cheek on my fist. “My girl likes doing fun stuff, so we always have shit to do.”
“How long have you been together?”
“A year and a half. We actually met at a rave. I did a line off her ass and knew she was the one for me.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Carl sounded so sure and proud, and he smacked the wheel to punctuate his point. “She’s in school to be a nurse. Whenever we have free time, we get really high and go for walks in Woodhaven.”
“That sounds very picturesque.” Carl started talking and talking and talking, and I hummed and nodded as he went on about his girlfriend so passionately. I didn’t mind it so much, and I w
atched the scenery roll by through unfocused eyes.
4
Valerie
“Let me speak to the owner, please.” Slumping in my booth as the super old, super ugly lady in the booth behind me so sweetly posed her question, I covered my hands over my face. A foreboding groan bubbled up in my chest, and a sourness coated my tongue when I peeked through my fingers. The waitress bounced off, no doubt thinking she was going to get complimented on her excellent service.
“Do you wanna leave before this starts?” Rolling my lips between my teeth, I shook my head at Natasha’s cautious probe, and she frowned from across the table. “We haven’t even ordered yet. We can just go somewhere else.”
“I like this place, though.” My grumble earned me a scoff, and I glared hotly at my sister as she flipped her long, dirty blonde hair over her shoulder. “Where’d you rather go, Nat? I only have a half an hour lunch. I don’t have time to go somewhere else.”
“We work together, you idiot. We have the same lunch.” Huffing loudly, I crossed my arms over my chest even as my cheek twitched in an effort to smile. Natasha grumbled under her breath, and I discreetly glanced over my shoulder at the old woman waiting patiently behind me. She’d done nothing for the past several minutes but talk crap about the waitress to her friend— she’d gotten the worst service— her meal was ruined because, shocker, the place was busy for the lunch rush! Not one thing did she say to the waitress’s face, and she ate the whole damn pizza between herself and her friend. Her white, curly hair and thickly wrinkled face betrayed the fact that she was a witch, and I was so, so annoyed with this day already.
“You look like you want to punch her.” Frowning as I turned back around, I opened my mouth to make a snooty comment when I saw the waitress coming out of the kitchen. Her boss was obviously also the chef, and I held my breath as I clamped my mouth shut.
If the old dust bags behind me asked for compensation and started smack talking o the waitress, I was gonna lose . . . my . . . shit. Every single day for the past week, these two ladies came in and did this two-faced act. They’d apparently worked up enough courage to try this, and I was honestly curious as to what would happen.
I’d been coming here for lunch— and breakfast and dinner, pretty much— at least twice a week since moving here, and not once had I ever seen the owner come out of the kitchen. And during the lunch rush, too.
“Oo-oo, hottie alert, Valerie.” Snapping me from my dark thoughts, Natasha pointed through the swirling, glass divider at the door. My gaze followed, and I pursed my lips thinly as a man and his buddy chatted up the hostess. His light brown hair styled perfectly, his smile revealing small dimples that framed his strong jaw. “I’d go home with that.”
“Yeah.” Broad shoulders flexed when he took off his jacket, and I bit on my bottom lip absently. “I wonder where he works out? Maybe, I should start going there.”
Shrewd, brown eyes scanned the restaurant, and my chest tightened when they met mine through the polarized glass. His polite smile morphed into a sexy smirk, and I tapped my feet against the floor absently. Super-hottie alert.
A sharp scoff from behind me broke the intensifying moment, and I twisted around sharply to watch the scene play out. The poor waitress clearly didn’t know how to take such a second face, and the old lady started reaming into her service. She talked so fast that I barely registered any single word, and her old-lady wrinkles started to ripple with anger.
“Excuse me.” Goosebumps washed over my exposed legs and under my shirt at the deep, rich baritone. Like thunder, it was powerful enough to cut off the ancient bone pile. My eyes snapped past the waitress as she jumped in surprise, and the guy I’d been ogling looked down his nose at her. For a second, shocked tension thrummed through the air before he turned to the owner, his eyes narrowing into tight points. “I don’t appreciate having to eat around disgusting garbage.”
My throat tightened at how casually he spoke, and my breath caught when the owner seemed a little . . . unsure.
“Of course not, sir. I was curious what they were going to say, considering they’ve been here for an hour and eaten everything in front of them. I apologize for the disruption.” So much for the entertainment value of these ladies getting kicked out. The thought struck me with a jolt of disappointment, and I watched the elderly women get up huffing and puffing. If the guy’s stare wasn’t so intense, they might’ve gotten into it with him. I’d loved to have seen that. It seemed like my heart skipped a beat when that gaze flickered to me, but he only cast me an appreciative look before turning on his heel and walking back to his hostess.
“Um . . . sorry about the delay. What can I get you today?” I blinked hard, tearing my eyes off him to focus on the waitress, and she held her pad and pen poised expectantly.
“I’ll have some of that.” She giggled a little at my sigh, and I cleared my throat before sitting up a little straighter. “I’ll have the chicken parm with extra cheese and sauce.”
“Of course. And for you?” I didn’t catch Natasha’s answer when the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I licked my lips heavily. “I apologize again for taking so long. I’ll be right out with your drinks and make sure you’re not late.”
“No problem. Those old ladies were witches.” Natasha smiled reassuringly, and I ran my hand through my curls as the waitress flounced off towards the kitchen once again. Casting me brows arched in knowing curiosity, my sister propped her forearms on the table to drum the top with her manicured nails. “Hot guy swooped in and saved the day, Val. Just your type.”
“I know! I can feel him staring at me.” Frowning at the slippery smirk my sister shot me, I slumped over the table and groaned softly. “If I didn’t have to go back to work, I’d go over and talk to him.”
“I don’t think Paul would mind if you’re a few minutes late. Just say you hit traffic.” Natasha sniggered at her own, stupid, joke, and my frown darkened more in dismay than anything.
“We walked here. Jesus, Nat, that’s not funny at all.” I would not look over despite the ache in my eyeballs, and I scrunched up my face as Natasha laughed in earnest. “And you called me an idiot.”
“You’re younger than me.”
“By six minutes! That’s not fair!” My eyelid twitched when she snorted lightly, and I huffed as I covered my face with my arms. “Go away. I’m tired of you.”
“Just face it, Valerie. We were together in the womb, and we’ll be together in the tomb.” Shivering dramatically in faux disgust, I shook my head. I sat up, and my sister smiled broadly with merriment in her eyes even as they slid past me. “You should go over and give him your number.”
“Oh, yeah, why don’t you go and give him my number?” Natasha and I were fraternal twins, but sometimes I just wanted to break her nose. Her smirk turned innocent, and I opened my mouth to say something before the waitress appeared by my side with our drinks. “I’m not going over there. We’ve lived here for almost a year, and I’ve never seen that guy before. He’s probably not sticking around until the weekend, anyway.”
“Who? That’s Carlyle.” Chiming in as she set my drink in front of me, the waitress downright grinned at my surprised squeak. “He lives just outside the city. We deliver to him all the time.”
“I thought you didn’t do delivery, only take-out?” Confusion laced my tone, and she nodded firmly with a slight shrug as she held her little tray against her front.
“He’s the only one we deliver to. He always has massive orders and gives huge tips. Every once and a while, he’ll come in, but I haven’t seen him in a few months, myself.” I couldn’t help myself from glancing back, but Carlyle was engaged in conversation with his friend. He was so handsome, and I pursed my lips thinly as my mouth watered.
5
Carlyle
A soft knock on the door drew my attention from my laptop, and I stood up from the sofa to set the device on the coffee table. Numbers flashed behind my eyes when I blinked, and I rubbed them with loose fist
s before shaking my head viciously.
“What is it?” The barrier swung open to reveal a worry-faced Jerry, and I leaned on the frame with a frown deep enough to drag down my brows. “What happened downstairs?”
“It’s not that. I took care of that.” My eyes narrowed on him, and he rocked back on his heels as he took a shuddering breath. “I need a couple weeks off. My—”
“Go ahead.” Jerry deflated like a popped balloon, and I clenched and released my jawfor a few moments as his breathing returned to normal. “Whatever it is, I don’t care. Update me on when you’ll be back when you can, Jerry. Did you call in your partner?”
“I’m about to do that right now, yeah. Thanks, Carlyle.” Watching him turn and hurry towards the elevator, I crossed my arms over my chest as he fumbled with his phone. His hands shook bad, and I wondered what could’ve happened that got him so out of sorts. Of course, his mom could be hurt or something, but beyond that vague thought, I didn’t care.
What Jerry did or didn’t do when he wasn’t here wasn’t my business. As long as it didn’t affect me, he could have whatever life he wanted.
“Boring.” Maybe, nothing held my interest because I didn’t care. Shutting the door, I rubbed my palms up my face and into my hair with a groan of frustration. All I did was work. All I’d ever done was work. Everything I did, I did because it was an extension of my job.
And, as much as I enjoyed hanging out with Illya, in the end, that was just work, too.
“I should take Carl’s advice and go for a walk. I don’t have the luxury of being distracted when we go to that party next week.” I cracked open the door again, unhooking my keys from the hook on the wall before leaving my apartment. Oran and my father were around somewhere, but the very last thing I wanted was their big-ass noses in my business. Of course, my dad had the right, but Oran just pissed me off. “I spend too much time alone because of that bastard.”