Page 28 of Passion and Revenge

“Oh God,” I whisper.

She has no idea what I’ve been saying this whole time, and who knows what that jerk told her. He probably made it seem like I’m a crazy, unpredictable woman who he’s trying to keep safe here.

The older woman is now staring at me warily.

“Carry on with your work. I’m going to bed.”

What else is there to do anyway? The books Alessandro filled the room with are shitty, and it’s my own damn fault. I recognize several of the titles as having graced my own bookshelf at home.

But I know for a fact that he just bought copies of my books and didn’t take the ones from my shelf. I know this because my books are a front.

The first time Sal caught me with a steamy romance book, he made such a fuss about them rotting my brain, and then he bought me some self-help trash the next day. I didn’t read them or any of the other ones he bought. Instead, I ordered book jackets and wore them over my smut books.

Modern problems require modern solutions.

Unfortunately, I’m now reaping what I sowed. I shift my gaze to theHow to Become a Powerful Womanbook lying at the foot of the bed and then sigh.

I can’t just continue to accept my fate. I’m sure the people who cared about me were going crazy, as was I. I have to do something.

But what?

My gaze lands on the tiny cleaning woman. I have about four inches and several pounds on her. It shouldn’t be difficult to overpower her. Or trick her.

A plan begins to form in my head.

My hands feel clammy as I make my way to the bathroom while making sure she sees what I’m doing. I shut the bathroom door and bolt it, then grab some wet wipes off the counter.

Taking a deep breath, I get to my knees and begin to stuff the drain with the wipes. Satisfied, I turn on the shower and get my head under it to wet my hair a little, then I wait for the water level to rise up.

A few minutes later, I rush out of the bathroom.

“Can you fix that?” I point at the flooded bathroom. “Water. Everywhere,” I emphasize, so there’s no mistake about what I mean.

Her sharp eyes take in my wet hair and the towel slung over my shoulder, then she follows the direction of my finger to the bathroom.

A sound of irritation falls out of her mouth, and she grabs the plunger from her bucket of tools and marches to the bathroom.

As she walks past me, I make myself stumble into her. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

She mutters something in Mandarin and continues on her way. As soon as she’s past the bathroom doors, I grab it and shut it before bolting it behind her. She screams from inside, rapid words sounding from the other side of the door. I don’t need to know the language to realize she’s cursing me out.

With a smile, I stare at the key card I’ve just picked out of her pocket.

“Yes!” I exclaim with a laugh.

Tossing the towel away, I jump into action, swiping the key card over the room door to unlock it. The red light on the glass turns green, and I whoop, a smile splitting my face.

There’s a living room and kitchen on one corner and a hallway on another. I follow the hallway, and it leads me to an elevator door.

I swipe the card over the door.

“Access denied,” a robotic voice informs me.

“What!” I cry, swiping again and again.

“Access denied. Access denied,” the voice repeats.

I let out a growl of frustration, even as my mind continues to race. How has she been using the elevator? How has she been getting out of the building? There has to be a staircase somewhere.

---