Page 19 of Ruthless Vow

“Fuck.” Luca snarls. He slams the lid of the laptop down and spins the office chair so he’s facing me. “I told you I was not the right person for this job,” he says, his voice low and controlled. “I cannot do Nicole’s job. I am not Executive Assistant material. I have fucking ADHD. There are a million radio stations playing inmy head at all times. Hire someone who can do the job, someone organized and detail focused, and let me go back to the job I’m good at.”

“I can’t trust anyone,” I say.

“What about Sabina?”

“I asked her. She said no.”

“What about Alina?” he asks.

“No.” I’d already asked Damian about the possibility. His refusal was unequivocal.

“What about Vito?”

“Poor organizational skills,” I point out.

“Joe?”

“He’s a gossip.”

“True,” Luca says.

“You’re doing a great job,” I tell Luca.

He’s doing a terrible job.

So far, he’s botched dinner reservations, terrorized a woman from the bank who called to confirm a credit card expenditure, drafted the wrong report for a meeting, and failed to collaborate with Sabina on a list of venue options for her engagement party. And now he’s double booked me, sent cognac to a recovering alcoholic, and ordered a bouquet for the mayor that’s going to make him think I’m sending the message that I plan to assassinate him.

“I have a job for you,” I say. “One that does not involve scheduling or calendars.”

Luca surges to his feet. “Thank god.”

“I need you to find, retrieve, and deal with Nicole’s cat.”

Luca frowns. “Find, retrieve, and deal with her…cat?”

Annoyance surges. “That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”

Luca sits back down. “No. No way.”

“No? You’re saying no?”

“I’m saying no.” He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at me. “I’m not doing a cat. I have scruples.”

“Wait… what?”

“I’m not a killer.”

I stare at him, at a complete loss for words, probably for the first time in my life.

“You kill people all the time. It’s part of the job description,” I say, struggling for patience.

“People. Not cats. Or dogs. Or guinea pigs. Or fish. Or—”

“I get the picture. People are fine. Animals are not.” I shake my head. “For the record, I’m not asking you to kill the cat, just go get it. Bring it here.” I wave my hand. “Bring whatever it is that cats need… food, bowls, toys…”

“Litter box,” Luca supplies.

“Yeah. That, too.”

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