Page 33 of Filthy Little Games

“No. And my IT guys are working on making everything disappear from the Cloud.”

“That’s good to know, but um, could you at least make a call for me?”

“Make a call to whom?”

“My boss.”

“Your boss?” he repeats.

“Yes. Tell him I can’t come in today, that I quit. And… um — that I’m sorry I didn’t work a notice.”

“You’re serious?” Creed raises an eyebrow in disbelief.

“I might need that reference for another job someday,” I explain to the rich bastard. “Haven’t you ever heard the saying about notburning any bridges?”

He stares at me for a long moment. “Fine. What’s the number?”

He retrieves his device from his pocket as I tell him, “I don’t know his number! It’s saved in my phone.”

Sighing heavily, he glares at me. Creed then pulls a phone with a purple case out of his pocket. My phone. “What’s the name?”

“Steve Ricks.”

A few taps of his fingers, and a moment later, my phone is up to his ear.

“You’ll probably have to leave a message,” I warn him right before he speaks.

“Is this Steve? I’m calling for Zara Riley. She won’t be able to make it in today or any other day. That’s right. She quits.”

“Creed!” I hiss while my fingers fidget with the hem of my shirt. He’s rude and abrupt. “Apologize!”

“Zara is…sorry,” he grits out while his blue eyes lock onto mine. “It wasn’t her decision to quit. It was mine.” There’s a pause and then. “This is Creed Ferraro. And if she ever needs a reference from you in the future, it better be a glowing one.” With that he ends the call. “Satisfied?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Do you need anything else before I go?”

“Yes.” My gaze lowers to his pants. “How are your, ah, stab wounds this morning?”

“Should I say they’re excruciatingly painful and ask you to kiss them better?”

“Ha! No. But if you’re joking about them, they must not be too awful.”

“They’re not. Now, will that be all?”

“Just one last question — What am I supposed to wear today?”

“What do you think?” he asks over his shoulder as he turns to leave. “A wedding dress.”

“Oh. Is my fairy godmother on her way over to conjure one up from your tees and suits?”

Creed smiles. His lips lift at both corners, making him undeniably more handsome. “A bridal boutique is bringing a few dresses over for you to choose from, along with several pairs of shoes and…undergarments. That’s another reason you should hurry.”

The door shuts behind him, leaving me standing in his bedroom wearing nothing but his tee and trying to imagine myself putting on a wedding dress and marrying the mafia don in just a few hours.

Thirty minutes later, I’m showered and dressed. My curls are only half dry but pulled up in a tidy bun with a few loose strands hanging around my face.

With more time, I would’ve liked to let my hair air-dry and have the curls fall over my shoulders and the ivory gown, but I didn’t want to keep Creed Ferraro waiting a minute longer than he demanded.

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