Page 49 of The Devil's Secret

I continue to stare at the piano, unable to pull myself away, wanting so badly to know if I could play again, but I won’t try. That’ll only remind me of the good days, and I can’t think of them right now.

I keep moving, even though my heart and soul are still in that room, wishing I could pour myself into every keystroke.

The room beside it seems much safer—a large office by every appearance with its door set open. A black contemporary desk sits in the middle with a high-back leather chair. A long teal sofa stretches across one side, the walls painted a pale gray.

Stepping inside, my feet stride past the soft ivory carpet, the shaggy threads sliding in between my toes, my hand gliding over the polished desk, not a speck of dust on it.

Curiosity sets in and I slip around the desk toward the drawers, wanting to know what a man like that keeps in his office. Maybe I’ll find something that’ll tell me who he really is.

I pull out the top drawer, finding two blue folders and a small note pad lying on top. Reaching for the pad, I don’t expect to find anything in it. But as I open it, my head snaps back.

“How the hell did he know…?” My voice drifts as I read the first page.

Hey, Joelle. Nice snooping.

I flip to the next page, my pulse speeding.

You’re looking especially sexy today.

I read through the two other notes, not understanding how he knew I’d wander in here.

You won’t find anything too exciting, I’m afraid.

Or maybe you will.

Quickly dropping the pad back into the drawer, I take out the folders. My gaze roams around the room, looking for cameras that I know are here. He could be watching me right now. A smile slinks to my lips and I flip a middle finger right before I go into examining the contents of the first folder.

I find receipts with no business name on them, amounts in the thousands. Rifling through the rest, I move on to the next folder. But just as I open it, something slips out, wafting onto the floor.

Kneeling, I retrieve it, turning it around, finding a photo of a man I’d never thought I’d see again. My shock’s hidden behind a rough breath.

I can’t stop staring into Roman’s bloodied face. So much of it, I could barely recognize him. Why does Enzo have this photo? Did he beat him? For me? Now it makes sense why I haven’t seen him since the night Enzo saw us together. Is he dead?

I need answers, and when Enzo’s home, he’s going to give them to me. Taking the picture, I place the folder back inside, closing the drawer and heading back to my room.

As I do, I pass the foyer, the jangle of keys clinking from the outside has me staying exactly where I am.

Enzo walks in, tight gray trousers and a dark navy button-down conforming to his body like they’ve been permanently sewn to him, the taut muscles of his arms, his chest rippling under his clothes as he finds me standing before him.

His brow bends in question, probably noting my tight expression.

“We have to talk,” I say, the photo dangling from my hand.

“Sure, baby.” I’m met with an amusing smirk ticking up the corner of his mouth. “Might this have to do with you snooping through my office?”

“You didn’t exactly tell me not to.”

“You’re right. I didn’t.” He attempts to lock the door behind him, and when he’s about to, a car comes screeching down the street right outside.

He instantly hardens—his face, his body, everything goes on alert. “Stay here and don’t move,” he demands as he runs out of the house, one of his men beside him, whispering into his ear. Enzo shakes his head, saying something in return, but I can’t hear it.

I stay by the door as the tires advance from beyond until a white Mercedes comes to a stop right in front of the house. Two women in short dresses hop out.

My body goes rigid, a burning sensation rolling into my chest.

He has women coming here? While he acts like I matter? Calling me baby. Making me think… I don’t know what.

My stomach recoils with a fury I hadn’t known I had.

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