Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Silence falls over the room. Nobody believes her, and I should order Ethan to take care of this girl—she tried to steal from me, after all, there’s no other reason she’d be digging through that safe—but there’s something interesting about her.
And now I have leverage.
Sometimes it’s better to show a little mercy.
“I asked her to sweep up crumbs. Isn’t that right, little mouse?” I smile at her sweetly, and she grimaces as she nods, clearly confused about why I’m playing along.
“Right, uh, you don’t have to worry about that, Mr. Bianco. If the office isn’t clean enough, I’d be happy to take care of it.” Ethan stares between the two of us and a smile presses against his mouth. The bastard’s starting to form his own opinion about what’s going on here, and hell, the little fucker’s right about what I want but wrong about everything else.
“Very good.” I stand up and drag Emily along with me. “Thank you for your help, topolina. You’re dismissed.”
“Okay, uh, sure. Thanks a bunch, Mr. Bianco.” She hurries past Ethan and disappears around the corner.
My manager watches her go before turning to me with a smirk.
I hold up a hand before he says something stupid then bend over to lift my bag. Nothing’s missing—that’s good. I zip it up and sling it over my shoulder.
“I want everything you have on that girl,” I say, staring at him in a way that suggests there will be no fucking jokes about this. “Full name, address, her friends, her Social Security number, everything. Do you understand? Have it ready for me tomorrow morning at open.”
“Yes, sir.” Ethan clears his throat. “Is she in trouble?”
“Don’t concern yourself with that.” I give him another long look. “Also, make sure you close and lock the fucking safe next time.”
“Sorry, sir.” He backs into the wall as I stride past him.
I catch a glimpse of Emily in the main dining room stacking chairs and working hard to avoid looking at anyone. She’s probably wondering why I covered for her when we both knew what she was doing, and I’ll let that simmer for a while.
I don’t know what I want from her, not yet at least, but when I figure it out—she’ll owe me.
And I’ll take what I want.
I turn and leave the restaurant through the back door. Isaac’s waiting next to the car for me. I toss the duffel into the trunk and it lands beside another bag, nearly identical, with the cash stuffed inside. That’s probably what my girl was looking for.
“All good?” he asks when I get into the passenger seat. Isaac gives me his typical lopsided smirk as if he knows I was up to no good in there, but that’s just his default look. I’ve known him for a very long time—he’s my personal bodyguard, my top lieutenant, my most trusted advisor, and my best friend—and he’s the only person in the world that would get away with that stupid fucking smirk.
“All good.” I nod at the road. “We’re behind schedule. If we want to catch and roast that fucker, we’d better get moving.” He puts the car in drive and gets moving. “Also, tomorrow, I need you to pick up some information from Ethan for me. It’ll be on a girl named Emily.”
“A girl?” His eyebrows raise. “You got a thing for a waitress?”
“Something like that.” I smile out the window and watch as Chicago flits past the car. “I might get to use my tools more than once this week. I’m feeling lucky.”
Chapter 3
Emily
I park outside of my dad’s place and kill the engine. The block’s shade-covered and crowded by local cars, and the houses are all well-kept. I remember running up and down this block as a kid, getting into trouble, learning to navigate the city on my bike and nearly getting run down by cars at least a half-dozen times. But my dad was always a hands-off sort of parent, so long as I was home for dinner and always remembered to call, and I have very fond memories of growing up here.
The house itself is one of the nicest on the block. Dad takes serious pride in it. Gray stone front, a big oak door, and huge windows. It extends back toward a small postage-stamp yard that’s mostly a concrete slab where I learned how to catch a ball, jump rope, and roller skate.
As I get out, I pause on the block and notice a man sitting in a black town car nearby. He’s wearing sunglasses and looking down at something, but he’s just sitting there on the other side of the block. It’s probably no big deal, but ever since I ran into Mr. Bianco last night, I’ve been completely on edge.
The owner of Cucina Amore is freaking gorgeous. I’m talking beyond obscenely gorgeous. The sort of man I’d throw myself at under different circumstances. But unfortunately, the guy walked in as I was trying to steal from him, and he got a really good view of my panties and my full moon ass just staring at him from under the desk.