Page 76 of Corrupted Empire

His green eyes flash with wicked amusement. “Too long.” He pulls out a pen. “Shall we get started?”

The interview is pretty standard at first. Victor asks a couple of questions about which charities we run, and which of them we just furnish donations to. Alexis impresses me with how knowledgeable she is. Considering she’s only been on the job for a few weeks, she can recite more facts and figures than I could and seems to know each of our charities inside and out.

Then Victor moves on to slightly more personal questions. He asks these between sips of his black coffee, setting the scene so that it seems like he and Alexis are just old friends gabbing on their lunch break.Where did she grow up? What was her family like? Why did she make the move from journalism to charity work?

Alexis answers these easily. She spent some of her childhood in Kansas, left when she was very young. She grew up amidst New York City’s skyscrapers and barely remembers Kansas at all. They were a loving family, and she misses her parents all the time. An opportunity arose to take on this new challenge, and she thought she could do more good by getting her hands stuck into it than just by writing about it.

And then Victor asks, with point-blank sincerity, “When you say an opportunity, do you mean the blatant nepotism you enjoyed following your tryst with Bellucci Inc.’s enigmatic CEO?”

My hand curls into a fist, and I picture myself tossing Victor through the plate-glass window. Alexis doesn’t answer straight away, and Victor blinks, takes a sip of his coffee, and continues staring at her.

I’m just about to announce the interview is over when Alexis laughs.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting that, Victor, but I suppose I should have been,” she says.

“Why’s that?”

“Because that’s how it looks, isn’t it? I mean, in reality, that’s what it is. I was put into this position because of my closeness to Gabriel, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t deserve it. I didn’t kick anyone out of the job. This position was created for me to consolidate the many loose threads of our charity work and to hone our efforts.” She continues to reel off facts and figures about what she has accomplished so far since her appointment, and what her plans are for the company going forward.

When Alexis finishes, she paints on a polite smile. “I hope that eases some of your concerns, Victor.”

He dislodges his eyebrows from the ceiling. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

The rest of the interview goes smoothly. Victor tries to throw a couple other curveballs, but Alexis nimbly bats them away. I realize by the end of it that my being present was pointless. Alexis has a remarkable capacity for dealing with troublesome reporters on her own.

That shouldn’t surprise me, considering that she used to be one.

* * *

I take my time walking up the front steps and through the door. My body aches. The front of my shirt is warm and wet, and I can feel a bruise blooming on my cheek. All I can think about is a hot shower and a long sleep.

“Jesus.”

I look up and see Alexis at the top of the stairs. She’s wearing an expression of horror and also the little pajama shorts I like so much.

“What happened?” she asks in a hushed voice, bounding down the stairs.

“Why are you still awake?” I counter as she crosses the foyer toward me. I don’t know the exact time, but I know at least it’s very late.

Alexis lifts a hand to my face, prodding gently at the cut on my cheek. I wince.

“I was waiting for you,” she says. “I saw you go out with Silvano earlier, and I was worried when you hadn’t come home.”

I’m not used to being fussed over like this after a fight, and I stand stock-still as she tugs open my shirt buttons and hisses when she sees the wound on my chest.

“You should see the other guy,” I joke, but it’s not really a joke. The other guy’s dead.

Alexis presses her lips together in a frown, unimpressed by my attempt at humor. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” she says. “Is everyone else okay?”

“As far as I know,” I say. “I haven’t heard back from Silvano’s team yet, but they were just doing recon while we distracted the Irish. I’ve got a first aid kit in my office.”

Alexis and I go upstairs, and I sit in my office chair while she hunts through one of the cabinets for the first aid kit. I watch her, searching for any sign of stress, but find none. I have just come home covered in blood, and yet it doesn’t seem to faze her at all.

“Doesn’t this upset you?” I ask.

“What?” Alexis grabs the kit and lays it out on the desk. She starts to ease the ruined shirt from my shoulders.

“The blood. The implied violence. The fact that you are patching me up while our son sleeps just down the hall.”

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