Page 28 of The Boss' Pet

“Can I shower myself, or is the shower one of those elevated tubs with a leash attachment?”

No sooner are the words out of my mouth than I regret them. A light sparks in his eye.

“That is an idea,” he says. “That’s a very good idea. A leash in the shower. You’re quite creative aren’t you, my pet. Be sure to keep sharing your little notions with me.”

“I don’t have anything here…”

“Check the drawers. You have everything here. All your clothes and personal effects were moved.”

And gone through, I imagine. Did they find my notes? I hope not.

He’s insane. Crazy in the way people who don’t have to worry about anything in the world inevitably go crazy. But he’s not so crazy he won’t mind me having a whole secret agenda to undermine and expose him.

I open the drawers, finding my clothes folded neatly inside them. Laundered, too, judging by the smell of them. And then there’s more, newer versions of my favorite underwear. Someone has not just moved my things. Someone has analyzed them and replaced some of them. Someone has chosen new attire in similar sizes.

My feelings swing between amazement, annoyance, and a very small amount of appreciation. This was a lot of effort, all made to keep me comfortable.

I look back at him as I pick some clothes to sleep in. He is watching me with an inscrutable expression. I wonder if he knows.

Does he know? God. I am absolutely swimming in guilt right now and cursing the fact that I put it down on paper. I thought I was being so smart by avoiding digital footprints. But I’ve left my notebook for either Marcus to have found, or the next tenant to find.

I have to get back to my old apartment as soon as possible and get that book.

The next morning, I get up early. I suppose technically I don’t really sleep much at all. Instead, I just sort of lie there until it feels like whoever is supposed to be watching the cameras has probably lost interest.

I get dressed in the most casual clothing that’s been brought over for me. It’s exercise stuff—sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt, a ball cap pulled down low over my face. With any luck, I won’t be recognized as the sex kitten in heels who was taken here.

I avoid the elevator and take the stairs. I figure it’s less likely for there to be cameras there, and if there are, oh well. I can choose how fast I go down the stairs.

I’d have to stand in an elevator like a sitting duck. I mean… wait. I know what I mean.

I wish I could call someone, but Marcus never gave my phone back. I’m sure that’s just an oversight. I’m sure he’ll make certain I have it in the morning. Once he’s had the chance to go through that too, I imagine.

This is a very dangerous game to be playing, there’s no denying that. It’s quite thrilling, sneaking out of a luxury apartment building while trying to get a scoop on a corrupt billionaire. I’m aware of that chip in my neck, and I know I’ll be followed. But maybe I won’t be followed right away. All I need is an hour or so.

They haven’t had a chance to re-let my apartment yet. The door is open, and the place is empty. It’s very unsettling to see the space I used to live in without anything in it. I’ve already sacrificed so much in following this story, and I’ve barely started.

Things are moving fast, and I’ve lost control. But that’s okay. I don’t need control. I just need to be able to go with the flow.

The place I hid the notebook hasn’t been found. I breathe a huge sigh of relief as I pull it out.

Okay. Good. I’ve got what I came for, but now I am holding the incriminating evidence. I need to get rid of it as quickly as possible.

But where?

The next thing I know, I’ve kind of, sort of technically broken into a friend’s place.

Sasha is an intellectual type with more books than anything else. She’s also at grad school, which means she has papers absolutely everywhere. There’s no better place to hide a notebook.

I look around her little place. It reminds me of what mine used to look like, when I had a place. I don’t have one now. I’m effectively homeless, even though I have an apartment that Marcus is paying for. He could kick me out at a moment’s notice. He probably will, now that I think about it.

As soon as he gets bored with me, I’m going to be out of a place to live. And that will suck because the place I had might not have been nice, but it was cheap. Finding another single bedroom apartment isn’t going to be easy.

While I’m worrying, I’m also looking for a good place to stash my notes. The front door starts to open, and I panic, stuffing the journal underneath a bookshelf.

“Hey!” I call out, just so she doesn’t get too much of a fright.

“Fuck! Goddamnit. What the fuck!?” Sasha comes in swearing, dropping her books all over the floor. “Charlie? What are you doing in here?”

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