Page 10 of That Time I Accidentally Took Over the Mafia

I freeze, setting my spoon down with a soft clink.

“So,” Stacie says casually, pouring tea like it’s nothing, “what’s it like being the Caputo heiress?”

Another name she shouldn’t know.

The walls of the kitchen suddenly feel too small, the air too thick. My mind starts to race—what else does she know? How long has she known? Why didn’t she say anything?

A wave of heat runs down my body. A bead of sweat follows it down my back.

Oh my god, what if she is some kind of mafia spy, hired by my father to keep a secret eye on me. Or worse, what if she’s here to kill me?

My father’s words echo in my head, speaking to me as if he were here, a voice I’ve tried hard not to think about for a long time:Trust no one.

I glance at the tea she made. The creamy surface has settled now, but a thin, oily sheen floats on top.

Um, that looks suspicious. Especially when I see Stacie has no tea.

“Dela, are you okay?” she asks, using my pen name this time.

The curtains are drawn. I can’t see out, and no one can see in. The music is playing too loud, muffling everything. Like the sounds of a struggle.

Suddenly, the walls of the kitchen feel too small, the air too thick.

Am I overreacting? Probably not. Something deep inside me screams,Get out. Now.

“I just need to use the bathroom,” I say, forcing a laugh. “You know, splash some water on my face. Scream into a towel or something.” My throat is suddenly dry but I’m pretty certain there is poison in the tea… at minimum, some kind of drug to knock me out.

“Yeah, of course.” Her neck is flushed red, and I can see her pulse banging against her skin. She’s nervous. Fucking perfect, Delaney. You pick the best friends.

The second I’m out of sight, I head upstairs instead of using the downstairs bathroom. I skip the fifth stair—it squeaks—and slip into the bathroom.

This is stupid. You should’ve known better. You’ve been played.

But how could I have known? I realize just how dark the hole I’ve been kept in has really been. A whole other world has been existing around me on the other side of a veil that I can’t see through.

I need to think. And fast.

I slide quietly into the attached bedroom, glancing around quickly for something I can use as a weapon as I feel for myphone in my pocket. There is a faint squeak on the fifth stair. I freeze. Stacie freezes. Hell, the world freezes.

Shit.

Don’t panic, maybe I’m overreacting. I’m just jumpy and obviously my nerves are fried from the guy’s harassment and everything else. I’m sure she’s just coming to make sure I’m okay. Or to see if I need some toilet paper, or something. That makes sense, right?

…Right?

Stacie’s silhouette moves slowly up the stairs, but something about her posture—the shape of her shadow in the dim light—makes my stomach drop. It looks like she’s holding something, something–

No, that can’t be right. She can’t possibly...

Yep, she sure is. She is screwing a silencer to the end of a fucking gun.

Fuck.

Well, apparently she is not worried about the toilet paper.

Okay. This is happening. My best friend—who’s known me for four years—is about to kill me. No biggie. I got this.

I swallow hard, my pulse quickening. Panic surges through me as I back away from the door and ducking into the closet. The cool wood scraping against my arm as I quietly slide inside. I can’t see anything in the dark, so I grab the nearest thing—a tennis racket? Really?

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