I feign ignorance, not wanting to escalate the situation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What I do outside of my position here at Redwood & Tully is my decision, and private at that. Nothing to do with you or anyone else.”
“Ahhhh, but you see, Dallen, it does impact us thoroughly, and it pisses us off.”
He stands, and I swallow, reaching for my phone and gauging how quickly I need to be to run and reach the emergency exit stairs before he catches me. The elevator will take too long to reach my floor. He’ll have hold of me by then.
Sweat beads along my spine, and my heart thumps so loudly in my ears I’m sure he can hear it. I know, without a sliver of doubt, he’s going to hurt me. In what way, I don’t know, but whatever way it’s going to be, it’s going to be bad.
Very bad.
“We liked having you work for us. It suited our needs, but now that you no longer wish to, well, we no longer need your services. No longer have use for you.”
I clear my throat and smile, even though I know these moments may be the last of my life. The city lights flicker through the window, and the entire office feels like a trap. “Mr. Romero, your family—even if my boss now handles your file—is important to us, and we’ll endeavor to ensure you’re represented well in whatever legal matters you require. I do apologize forstepping aside, but it was at my senior’s request, as he wished to have you on his books. Perhaps if you wish for me to work with you again, I can put forward your disappointment, and we can start fresh first thing next week.”
Elio shakes his head, scrunching up his nose. “Nah, I don’t think so. We know you chose a Moretti over a Romero, and that’s all we need to know about you. But I did want to see you one last time, give you a proper Romero send off.”
“A send off?” I’m going to be sick. I know it. “What does that mean?”
I glance at the clock on my desk. Eight twenty. I should be at the restaurant by now. If ever there is a time for Stephen to be concerned, to want to be overbearing and check on me, now’s the time.
As if the thought of him conjures him, my phone lights up, and I can see it’s a message from Stephen asking where I am. If I’ve left yet.
Elio starts to move around the desk, and I do too, wanting to keep the several feet of polished mahogany between us. “It means I’m going to mark you before I hit the Morettis in a way that they’ll never dare touch another Romero again.”
“Mark me?” I slide toward the door. It’s only a few steps away, and open. I can run, but then he’ll chase. I slip off my heels, pushing them under the desk while he is distracted, looking over the paperwork scattered there. I remain on tiptoes, not wanting him to know I’ve taken them off. That I don’t trust him.
I’m going to die.
The thought slams around my brain, and I feel detached from my body, like my skin wants to crawl off my bones. Get away from the danger unfolding around me.
“Don’t worry. Once it’s over, there’s no pain. Only peace, or so I’ve been told.”
I stare at Elio, unable to comprehend that someone could be so cruel, so callous, and psychopathic.
Before I can think better of it, I bolt.
I push myself as fast as I can through the office, the carpet burning under my bare feet. I throw chairs over in my wake, anything to make it more difficult for him to catch me. I can hear him, his footsteps pounding fast behind me, his vile, threatening words echoing down the glass-lined corridor and forcing me to run faster than I ever have in my life.
For my life.
I can see the emergency exit sign glowing red at the end of the hall. I’m almost at the door. If I can exit, it’ll make it harder for him to catch me. I’m certain it would.
But before I reach the handle, I feel his hand rip against my suit jacket.
I fall face forward, hitting the carpet hard. My hands burn, my knees too, before he’s on me, rolling me over to face him.
His fist slams into my face, and for several seconds, I’m unaware of the pain, of where I am or what’s happening, before a second blow drags me back into reality. I reach up, clawing at his face, trying to kick my legs. If I’m going to go down, I’m going down fighting. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll put his DNA under my nails so he rots in jail for life.
“You think you’re too good for a Romero?” I hear my shirt rip and air kiss my chest. His mouth comes down on my breasts, and he bites. Hard.
I scream, fighting to get away, but he doesn’t relent. He’s heavier than I think. He grabs my arms, placing them above my head, holding me down with a pressure that tears at my shoulders.
“Let me go. Please don’t do this.” I’ll beg. I’ll do anything not to die. To leave my parents. Stephen. The life I’ve worked so hard to build.
“Shut up, you cunt.” He slaps my face, and I’m sure I see stars. I can taste blood, and the adrenaline that has helped me run now makes me feel weak and cold.
His hand reaches between my legs, pushing up my skirt. I sob at his touch, his fingers digging into my flesh, brutal and cruel.
“Please, Elio. Please stop.”
