Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
I stumbled across something I wasn’t supposed to discover. I saw something I wasn’t meant to see, and now I’m an alibi for a killer. He’s the most feared and powerful man in the New York underworld. I don’t have a choice but to do as he says.
But he commands so much more than just my testimony.
Anya and Saverio's story continues in Coerced Wife (Book 2) and concludes in Coerced Queen (Book 3).
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER
ONE
Anya
Come on, baby.
Give it to me.
There’s no point in playing hide and seek.
I’m going to find it.
You know I always do.
“You should go home,” someone says, cutting into the one-sided conversation I’m having with my computer in my head.
By the toneless inflection, I know who the owner of the voice is before I look up from my screen.
Mr. Lewis stands in the door frame with his briefcase in his hand. He’s donned his double-breasted summer coat and black Fedora hat. His neck is so short it appears as if his head is attached to his shoulders. Coupled with his ramrod straight pose, he reminds me of those boxy nutcracker dolls that stand at attention. The fact that his face never betrays a hint of emotion adds to the illusion. So does the beard, except that his isn’t white but brown. He doesn’t sport a single gray hair despite being close to sixty. Does he dye the whole works, eyebrows included?
“I’m clocking out.” He checks his watch with a brisk and precise lift of his arm, the movement almost mechanical. “It’s late.”
A glance at the hour on my menu bar confirms it’s close to midnight. The open-plan office I share with three other junior accountants is long since dark and deserted. The only light in the room comes from the bluish glow of the desktop computer.
“You should go,” Mr. Lewis repeats in his impassive manner.
I’ve been so absorbed in my work I didn’t keep track of time. Frowning, I turn my attention back to the spreadsheet on my screen. The credits and debits don’t balance, and I hate leaving a problem unsolved. I never let the numbers win.
“I’ll just be another minute,” I mutter as I do a quick mental calculation.
His reply is neutral, but it’s more distracted than disinterested. “Remember to switch off the lights when you go.”
“’Kay.”
I lift my head when he turns to leave. He carries his average height and thin frame with his habitual air of solemn dignity, but just before the dark hallway swallows his shape, his shoulders curl inward. The cardboard-like outline of his body stoops. The forlorn look is so foreign on him that it gives me pause.
He hasn’t been himself lately. Ever since the two men in their fancy suits walked unannounced into his office a couple of weeks ago, he’s been preoccupied and jittery.
“Mr. Lewis?”
He stops and looks back at me.
“Is everything all right?” I ask carefully, not wanting to overstep my boundaries.
Mr. Lewis is my boss, and he discourages familiarity at the office. He doesn’t share his personal life at work, let alone his problems. His dispassionate bearing makes him unpopular with both the staff and the managers, but I respect him for building this firm from the ground up. He’ll always have my gratitude for giving me an opportunity when no one else would. Fine, he only gave me the job because he owed Livy a favor, but he still took a chance on me.
“Sir?” I probe when he doesn’t answer.
His laugh sounds forced. “Of course.”
I get the message. He doesn’t want to talk about whatever is eating him. That doesn’t stop me from worrying. Besides, if the business is in trouble, it affects me too. I like this job. I need the money, now more than ever.
“If there’s anything I can help with—” I start, but he cuts me short.
“Just doing your job will do. That means nine to five, Ms. Brennan. I don’t pay overtime.”
I open my mouth to tell him I don’t mind, but he doesn’t give me the chance.
“You look tired,” he says.
Only, he’s not looking at me. He’s peering through the window behind me with a nervous twitch of his eyes.
What does he see that makes him so jumpy? I follow his gaze. The Meatpacking District of New York City stretches behind us under a blanket of lights. The top floor of the red-brick building that houses Frank Lewis’s accounting firm looks out over the High Line and the Hudson River in the distance. The prime location alone is proof of his hard-earned success.
His voice reaches me from farther away. “Don’t forget to check that the guard sets the alarm when you leave.”
When I face forward again, he’s crossing the reception area in the dim light of the desk lamp. The click of the door announces his exit.
I chew my nail as I contemplate his uncharacteristic behavior. Judging by the big clients on his books, the firm is thriving. Then again, anything can look good on paper. I know that better than anyone. I hope the business is secure. Without a diploma, I won’t find a similar job anywhere in the city, and I can’t live in Livy’s building without paying rent forever. My position in the firm is nothing but charity. That’s why I’m working three times harder than everyone else. I want to show Mr. Lewis how grateful I am for his faith in me as much as I want to prove that I’m capable. Plus, there’s my professional pride. I don’t like failing. Until my probation period is over, nothing is certain. Once Mr. Lewis has signed my permanent contract, I’ll breathe easier. I’ll make sure he never regrets employing me. I’m not afraid of long hours and hard work.