I’m desperate. And desperate times call for…
Last night’s assassination attempt has left me rattled to my core. The first time I was supposed to be married, five years ago, two men held me captive to stop that wedding. Yesterday after leaving my engagement party, someone tried to kill me. Am I cursed? Even if I wanted to marry, would I be able to do so without violence nipping at my heel?
Not in this world.
I’m not sure if last night’s attempt was on my life or Maximo’s. Honestly, it doesn’t matter. I need to get out of here as soon as possible.
With that in mind, I text Mrs. Rizzo, ignoring the ever expanding sliver of guilt that lodges in my chest.
Elena:
What information are you looking for exactly?
Rizzo:
Anything and everything. No detail is too small or insignificant. If you can manage, start in his office.
Right, he does have a home office on the second floor. Returning the burner to its hiding place in my closet, so Maximo can’t see it on the cameras, I creep up the modern floating staircase. I glance around for signs of those security cameras. I know they’re here. He watched me dispose of his expensive liquor. He’ll no doubt spy on me as I search his office. The question is, will he care? Will he think I’m simply being curious, or will he suspect that I’m trading his information for my freedom?
Will he know I’m betraying him?
Ugh, why do I even care if he does? He’s literally given me no other choice.
His office is the first door on the right, across from a half-bath. It’s a sleek space with a contemporary fireplace in one wall and double doors that open onto a balcony. The view of the river’s magnificent.
First, I go to his computer, only to find it password protected. I have no idea what he’d use as a passcode, so I move on to his desk drawers. Pulling out documents and notebooks, I take pictures of everything with my own phone. I’ll transfer the photos to the burner and text them to Mrs. Rizzo later.
Next, I search his bookshelves. Not only the books themselves but above and behind them in case he’s hiding anything in those void spaces. They come up clean, empty.Huh.
The place is entirely too neat and tidy. Unless there are secret compartments in the minimalist design, he doesn’t keep anything of interest in here.
I wish I could log in to his computer. That’s the only place to hide anything of worth. Unfortunately, I don’t know enough about computers to even attempt to hack it.
As I’m about to close his office door, the buzzer rings, alerting me to a visitor in the lobby. My pulse stutters and I have to remind myself that I’m safe here. No one can gain entry until I let them. Unless they come up from the garage, but that area’s secure.
Glancing at the time on my phone, I realize I’ve been snooping for much longer than I thought. The wedding planner has arrived right on time for our meeting.
Sprinting downstairs, I nervously smooth my clothes before answering the intercom. “Yes?”
“Miss Pontrelli, it’s Crystal Jensen. I’m here for our appointment.”
“Yes. Uh. Please, come up.”
“Thank you.”
A few minutes later there’s a knock on the door. I peek through the hole to verify that it’s Miss Jensen, and not an assassin, before unlocking it and allowing her to enter.
“Hello, please come in.” Stepping back, I gesture toward the living room.
“It’s good to see you again, Miss Pontrelli. I’m so sorry that we hadn’t met until last night.” She sits on the sofa, running her hands down her suit pants. “This has been quite the whirlwind and I can’t wait to catch you up. It is your own wedding, after all.”
Perching across from her, I pretend to act interested in the idea of my upcoming nuptials, instead of dreading the thought of them. As she launches into the decisions that have already beenmade: The venue, date, guest list, and more, my calm façade begins to crack.
Maximo and Miss Jensen have been quite busy planning this wedding down to the last detail without a single bit of input from me. Which shouldn’t bother me because I won’t even be there for it, but it’s the principle of the thing, you know?
IfI were going to actually be married, I’d like to be in on the planning. I’d want to choose my own venue, my colors, the menu—all of it. But everything has been taken out of my hands. I’m just another piece of this wedding to be finalized and slotted into place.
Cold fury curls around my chest and suddenly, I don’t feel an ounce of guilt for back-stabbing Maximo. He doesn’t care about me. All he’s concerned about is his image. I’m his puppet, only here to do his bidding. To play the part of his bride.
