Page 51 of Malevolent Secrets

Carla hesitates, then sighs. “Jeremy was an accountant here, much like you. I’m not sure of the details, but I do know that he no longer works here.”

I swallow hard, the weight of her words settling over me. “Do you know what happened to him?”

She shakes her head. “No, and it’s best not to dwell on it, Daniella. Focus on your work and stay out of trouble.”

I nod, though the questions still swirl in my mind. “Thanks, Carla. I appreciate it.”

I used to think that I could identify a lie from miles away. My “bullshit-o-meter” has always been a source of pride, but after learning about the double life Jeremy had lived while being engaged to me for more than three years? I’m not so sure.

I don’t know what to believe. I don’t know who is lying to me and whether or not I can even trust my own gut.

***

The club is starting to wind down when I finally finish my tasks. Exhausted but excited, I make my way to the bar where Lorenzo is seated, nursing a drink. He looks up as I approach, a mix of curiosity and something deeper in his gaze.

“How was your first day?” he asks, his voice casual.

“Interesting,” I reply, taking a seat next to him. “I learned a lot.”

“Good,” he says, finishing his drink. “Time to go home. Get your purse.”

I ponder asking him why I have to leave now, but then I don’t bother wasting my breath. I go back upstairs and collect my things, then hurry back down to the dance floor.

“Okay,” I say. I look at him with a smile, tilting my head to the side.

“Remember what I said about the real work that needs to be done?” he asks me.

I frown. “I just worked a whole shift upstairs.”

He nods. “Yes, but the work you do here isn’t the only thing I expect of you.”

“Oh?”

He rises to his feet and reaches out to touch my cheek.

“I own you now, we talked about this. It means that you come home with me and you take care of my needs each night. It’s the most important part of the job.”

I have an urge to slap him. How dare he? But I shove the desire away.

“Fine,” I agree. “However, I get to have the weekends to myself. I don’t work for you seven days a week.”

He ponders this for a moment, the silence stretching out between us. “Fine,” he says.

“Good,” I say snippily. I turn my back on him and start walking toward the door. “Let’s go.”

The drive home from the club is quiet, the hum of the engine is the only sound breaking the stillness. As Lorenzo grips the steering wheel, I sit beside him, trying to quell the nervous energy bubbling inside me.

His presence is reassuring, yet the weight of what I’m stepping into hangs heavy in the air. I glance at him, catching him looking at me with an intensity that makes my heart skip a beat.

When we arrive at his apartment building, Lorenzo takes a deep breath before stepping out of the car. He walks around to open my door, his chivalry unexpected but appreciated.

I walk beside Lorenzo with the confidence of someone who belongs here, even though inside, I’m a bundle of nerves. Lorenzo’s gaze lingers on me and I can’t help but feel a mix of pride and anxiety. He’s taking a risk by bringing me here, and I intend to prove that I’m worth it.

We ride the elevator up to his apartment and I feel jittery and nervous about what is going to happen next.

I know that he wants me. I can positively feel his attraction filling up the small space. However, the context of everything between us has changed now.

I feel guilty keeping secrets from him at this point and I’m worried that he can tell that I’m not being totally honest with him.

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