Page 43 of His Assistant

“Are the lower levels clear?” I ask one of my men.

“We’re still working on it, sir,” he tells me.

“Good. Find every man who doesn’t belong in my building and hold them in the basement.”

“Yes, boss.”

Sofia goes completely still behind me. I know there’s no taking back what she’s just seen. No way to make it go away.

I turn to look at her. “Are you hurt?”

She stares at my gun then looks behind me where my men are roughing up the intruders. Then, she looks back at me.

“No,” she says, but it comes out raw.

Another door above us slams shut. Then one below does the same. I hear a hard mechanical click and freeze. The security system is locking the stairwell doors. Fuck. We’re trapped in here until someone resets it.

For a moment, the only sound is the alarm and Sofia’s uneven breathing. She takes a step away from me. I let her, even though it kills me.

“Do you always carry a gun?” she asks accusingly.

There’s no point in lying now.

“There’s always a gun for me to use,” I say, since I wasn’t technically carrying this one.

Her face tightens like the answer is physically hurting her.

“And those men downstairs, the ones with guns, they work for you?”

“Yes,” I tell her honestly.

“They work for you,” she says again. “But not Vieri Holdings.”

I nod. “That’s correct.”

She laughs, but there’s no humor in it.

“Sofia,” I try.

“No!” she says, putting her hand up and backing away from me. “Just give me a minute to process all of this.”

I nod and slide down against the wall. We might as well get comfortable. There’s no telling how long the lockdown will last. She sits too, but away from me, a few stairs down. She drops her head into her hands and groans.

Finally the alarm stops blaring, but the lights don’t come back and the doors don’t unlock. We’re left in a darkness and silence that’s quickly becoming unbearable. I don’t want to push her, but I can’t stand to see her like this.

“Sofia, please talk to me.”

She turns to look at me over her shoulder, and I see the pain in her eyes. Pain that I put there.

“If I asked you to tell me who you are, would you be honest with me?” she asks.

It’s now or never, I suppose. I wasn’t going to tell her any of this. I didn’t want to worry her. Lying to her outright, though, is a line I don’t want to cross. If she wants to hear the truth, then she deserves it.

“If you ask me, I will be honest,” I say carefully, giving her the out.

She mulls it over a second, then stands and climbs the few steps to the landing. She stands over me and plants her hands on her hips.

“Tell me exactly what you do.”