Page 24 of Ruthless Mafia Heir

"Goodnight, Blake."

"Goodnight, Sophia."

I linger there for a moment longer than I have to, half hoping she’ll change her mind and ask me to come to bed with her. But, after a moment, I take my cue and go. There will be time to catch up on that kind of stuff later. For now, she needs to get her rest.

And I need to figure out just what kind of a mistake I might have made.

Chapter Fifteen—Sophia

"Thanks for the ride," I tell Blake as he pulls up outside the restaurant. It’s early. A bright morning sunlight pours through the windows of his sleek black car, and I can’t help but notice just how close we are right now.

I can’t believe I stayed over at his place last night. I don’t know what I was thinking. But I was too much in shock to really wrap my head around getting home. How could I after everything he had just told me, that the restaurant I work at is nothing more than a front for whatever shady business his family does, that he’s the head of this secret society that operates behind the curtain at the university? It’s crazy. It’s crazy, and I don’t know where to start unravelling any of it.

And yet, there’s still a part of me that wants to be close to him, a part of me that’s dominant enough that I stayed over last night and let him drive me to work. I don’t know why. Perhaps because I know that he’s far too powerful to just let me walk out of his life, if I ever got it in my head to do that. If I try to leave, he can call in every favor he wants to make sure that I’m pulled back into his thrall once more. I’m even starting to wonder if he’s manipulated some of the circumstances that lead to me working for his restaurant just to ensure that he had even more control over me—though I’m not going to confront him about it.

"I’ll see you later," I tell him as I slip out of the car, heading toward the restaurant to start prepping for the day. I don’t normally work in the kitchen, but I’m covering for Raul for the morning to make a little extra money. I’m glad for the distraction. It’s something mindless for me to focus on while I’m in the midst of all this madness.

I half expect Blake to follow me in, but he lets me go. Probably senses that I need some space to process this.

I clean up in the kitchen and go about prepping the vegetables for the afternoon lunch rush as my mind strays back to what Blake told me last night.

This place is a front for something. That much is obvious. But what? Of course, I’ve noticed a few regulars who seem a little too friendly with Patricio coming and going, but I assumed they were just family. What if they were people handing over money that’s being cycled through this place to add to Blake’s family fortune? That apartment he lives in, if that’s just one of several homes, then he’s got to have some serious cash to his name.

I shudder at the thought of what he might have done to earn it. What is it, guns? Drugs? Nobody makes that kind of money by dealing in anything that makes the world a better place. Am I a part of it now, working here? It’s hard not to feel like it.

I chop onions and stack them in their plastic container, getting them ready for the chef arriving later today. The rest of the staff will start to filter in soon, but I’m here early, even for a morning shift.

Which means...

I glance around.

Which means I’m the only one here. And if I want to find out what Blake is using this place for, then I have to make that move now.

I put down the knife quietly and strain my ears to listen for anything that might indicate someone else hanging around. But there’s nothing, just the sound of the workmen on the street outside shouting to one another. I dry off my hands and slip to the office, the place where I saw the box with Blake’s initials on it. There has to be something in here that will shed some light on things, right?

I pull the door closed behind me and peer around the messy space. Nothing jumps out at me. It’s not like they would leave a big folder out in the open labeled with all the wrongdoings they’ve been using this place for, but there is surely some indication of the truth around.

I start with the drawers, down on my knees as I root through the dozens of pages of loose paper within them. Most of them are payslips for employees, a handful of them end-of-year tax forms that have been messed up and tossed aside to make way for new ones. I flick through the pages as quickly as I can, my ears pricked for any sound of someone turning up for work, anyone who might bust me in the act.

Nothing.

I turn my attention to the large filing cabinet beside the desk. I test the drawers, but most of them are locked. Maybe I can get inside. Maybe this is where they keep the good stuff.

I reach up to my hair, patting around for a hairpin. I've never actually cracked a lock before, but I’ve seen people use hairpins to do it. It’s got to be worth a try, right? I pull out a loose one and slide it into the lock, biting my tongue between my teeth as my brow furrows with concentration. Just a little more...

I wiggle it around, listening for the click that will tell me when I’ve hit my mark. Gritting my teeth, I twist it this way and that, silently willing it to give me what I’m looking for.

"Sophia?"

My heart lurches in my chest when I hear my name. I spin around—but, thankfully, it’s just Paula, one of the waitresses, standing in the doorway.

"Oh, hey," I greet her, trying to play it as cool as I can. "You alright?"

"I’m fine, are you?" she replies. "What are you doing in the office? I thought we weren’t allowed to come in here..."

"I was just picking up a payslip," I lie, grabbing a random piece of paper from the top of the filing cabinet and holding it up. "Nothing serious. You here to help with the prep for the day?"

"Yes," she sighs. "I saw you got started already, but there’s still so much we need to do."

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