Not her office.
The corridor.
There is a difference.
The screen shows the hallway outside her door. The technician leaves after several minutes, walking quickly, looking relieved. A moment later, Victoria appears in the doorway.
She is alone.
She looks down the corridor in the direction I left.
For a breath, she stands there, one hand resting on the doorframe, face thoughtful.
Then she shakes her head once, as if irritated with herself, and goes back inside.
My mouth curves.
Definitely a problem.
I close the feed.
Then I pick up the first file on my desk and force myself to work.
Chapter Five
Victoria
I wake up with my hand between my thighs and Mario Conti’s voice still in my ear.
For one suspended second, I do not know where I am.
Then it starts to come back to me slowly.
My bedroom is dark, the sheets tangled around my legs, the city light slipping through the narrow gap in my curtains. Somewhere outside, a car passes on the street below, tires slushing through the melting snow.
I am in my apartment.
Alone.
Not in Mario Conti’s office.
Not bent over his desk.
Not feeling his body caged around mine while he murmurs filthy Italian against my neck as he plunges into me over and over.
I close my eyes.
No.
Absolutely not.
I am not thinking about it again.
I am not lying here at 3:17 in the morning, soaking wet, aching, and furious because my subconscious has apparently gone fucking crazy.
For the fifth night in a row.
Five.
