Page 14 of Unspoken Promises

Apparently, when his sons realized settling near Silicon Valley was a good idea for business, just after Rio and Enzo graduated from college, they slowly built this ranch complex with having their whole family here in mind. The guard said they have been trying to get Luis to give up the ranch back home and retire here for a few years. Luis finally took the leap. Maybe he would be a good first friend? I could always stop by… empty-handed? Is that rude?

Turns out I don’t know shit about manners and social etiquette.

I spent all these years wanting to be out in the world, but now that it’s there, I can’t help thinking about not messing up

To top off the list of possible mess-ups, I haven’t made much progress on my presentation. I mean, what was Enzo thinking giving me such a task? As a coder himself, he knows how precious it is to teach someone your secrets. He might as well have given me a token job because I’m feeling useless. I’m never going to be able to earn his trust, or him to earn mine, by doing some goddamn PowerPoint.

The help I need from Enzo is huge. I can’t just waltz in here with a monumental request like mine without showing him there’s something in it for him. I had to earn rewards all the time I was at Father’s. Time watching TV, a new jump rope, a weighted blanket… whatever I wanted only came to me after giving something first. Humans aren’t benevolent. You have to give before you get.

And what I want requires a much bigger exchange than even teaching my coding to Enzo’s cybersecurity team.

I need Enzo to help me change my birth certificate and figure out how to legally keep the records sealed. It willrequire a lawyer. Possibly more money than he’s paid me. Moreover, the possibility of Father using me to commit cybercrime over the years hasn’t escaped me. For all I know I’m a criminal, though I’ve never been able to find my real name anywhere online but the births and deaths registry.

That says nothing though. Father controlled my entire view of the outside world. How could I know for sure that some of my tasks with my teachers weren’t actually contributing to criminal activity?

I’ve convinced myself Father was a cartel leader. Most of my teachers were from central or South America. Guns all around, guarding something. Was his compound a drug factory? What did he keep there that needed protecting? He had a whole organization of people, acres and acres of land. I’d be foolish to think I was there for such a long time and serving no purpose.

I was obviously part of some grand plan. Why train me? Teach me? Keep me so damn securely? I believed Anton when he said I was precious to Father. Nobody loses something precious and stops looking for it.

That basement taught me that people who betrayed Father and no longer served a purpose were put to rest. He was powerful enough to make men kill without him even having to be there. But why didn’t he ever show his face? Why did Father never come meet me? Was I really so important if he didn’t even need to talk to me?

No matter what, I’m not taking any risks if he wants me back. If my birth certificate change isn’t sealed, I could be found, and freedom with fear isn’t freedom. I could forge documents instead but then how could I work on criminal investigations here at GhostEye without fearing I’d be outed myself one day. I need to do this right. Legally.

I walk back over to the desk Enzo graciously had delivered.It’s actually a really nice one. A standing desk. He sent everything I needed to not work hunched over. Gifts only someone who spends a lot of time in front of a computer would understand are gold.

Damn is that man frustrating. One minute I’m working hard not to let my mind wander to how his muscular, corded neck would smell if I were to plant a kiss on it, the next, I want to wrap my hands around it. All I need is a real job. A real chance to pay it forward. I only have a three-month contract.

I can’t leave here without getting his help.

I dart my eyes to the ceiling and let out a rough, annoyed sigh. Why would he even bother to hold a contest if he’s not going to use the opportunity?

It sucks as much as knowing my next meal will be another salted caramel ProZone bar.

Pacing up and down the Spanish tiles for the thousandth time, I pluck up courage to go next door and ask Enzo why he has to be such a hard-ass, when the doorbell rings. I glance up at the door. I hope it’s not a guard again.

I peek out of the spyhole.

Holy shit. It’s Enzo.

I undo the chain and open the door. “Hi.”

Damn. He’s dressed differently from the other day, and my stomach drops. A black t-shirt, jeans, and a western belt buckle.Oof.He must have been a sight for sore eyes back in his cowboy youth. It’s hard to keep being mad at my boss when he doesn’t look like one anymore. I wish someone had prepared me for the whiplash a sexy man can cause.

“I’m going to the grocery store. I thought you’d like to get off the ranch and get some supplies.” His gaze rakes over me from top to bottom as if dusting for clues. “And get some fresh air.” His deep, husky voice has a lilt of judgement to it.

I throw my hand on my hip. “I’m working.” I’m not. But maybe it could be a segue.

“Areyou working?”

I narrow my eyes, but he receives my expression as though I’ve just told him he’s right.

I peek past him and notice he left his Land Rover running. I tip my head toward his car. “Guess you assumed I’d say yes.”

“Is there a reason you don’t want to go?”

I really want to go.

When I passed through the town yesterday on the way here, it struck me as a peaceful place, not short on character. I wanted to stop in everywhere—the café, the outdoor bookstore with a hammock, and the tack and feed shop where people stood outside talking about God knows what because I’ve never been allowed a pet. What do people talk about outside a feed shop? Kibble? Fleas? I want to know. Even the thought of a mundane conversation with a stranger is exhilarating. I’ve only done it once now, and it gave me goosebumps.

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