I logged into the account again, staring at the glowing balance.If Marco—or anyone else—had access, wouldn’t it already be gone?
The question looped endlessly, every answer leading nowhere.Maybe I was paranoid.Ray was dead.Haley was dead.My ties to the Vincenzo family had ended months ago.By Friday, I had almost convinced myself that it was true.
Almost.
But the feeling didn’t go away.It stayed.Lurking in the quiet moments.In the shadows behind me.In the tightening of my chest when I stepped outside.In the way my pulse jumped at the sound of my phone buzzing on my desk.I told myself I was imagining things.Told myself I was overreacting.
I exhaled, logged out, then tried to shake the weight pressing down on me.Maybe I had nothing to fear.
But then again...maybe I did.
“Enough,” I muttered, pushing away from the desk.
I had allowed fear to steal my energy, my sleep, and far too much of the joy I took in running one of the hottest magazines in the country.I refused to let it take anything else.
“I’m not doing this.”
I planned a quiet, uneventful weekend with my girls.Movies.Takeout.Pajamas.Normal.I needed to close the door on the Vincenzos and on Creed once and for all.
No more games.No more waiting.No more heartache.
I packed up my briefcase, slipped into my full-length coat, and turned off the light in my office.
Celine was shrugging into her coat when I stepped out.We fell into step together.My heels echoed against the marble floor as we headed toward the elevators, the sound too sharp in the late hour.I forced a smile I didn’t quite feel.
“You okay?”she asked, her tone casual, her gaze anything but.
“Yeah,” I said, lying smoothly.“Just tired.”
She nodded, even though I could tell she didn’t believe me, then shifted topics without missing a beat.“The accountant called earlier.He needs the payroll records for the W-2s.”
Of course he did.Tax season never waits.
“Sure,” I replied.“I’ll transfer the information on Monday.”
Celine gave me a look that lingered, thoughtful and concerned, before she nodded.“Okay, sounds good.”
When the elevator reached the lobby, she stepped off.I continued down to the corporate parking garage alone.
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, cold, and unforgiving.The flicker made shadows stretch unnaturally along the concrete walls, bending the edges of my vision.I walked with my keys clenched between my fingers, breath shallow, senses tuned for movement.
A soft scuff of a shoe echoed behind me.
I stopped.
My pulse slammed hard as I turned.
Two employees emerged from the shadows, their conversation low, oblivious.One nodded politely before climbing into a black SUV.
I let out a shaky breath.
Get a grip.
An engine revved somewhere deeper in the garage as I reached my car and unlocked the door.Creed stepped out of the shadows beside it.My breath caught painfully in my chest.
After weeks of silence, weeks of nothing, he was just there.As if he had been waiting.Creed wore a black sweatshirt stretched across broad shoulders and dark jeans that clung to lean hips.Even dressed down, he looked dangerous.Effortlessly so.
I hadn’t even noticed his Maybach parked beside mine.
