Fleetingly, my thoughts went to Jessica and Eli. Not only was I taking my life in my hands by rifling through the drawers of Cristian’s desk, I was taking theirs too. I quickly pushed away those thoughts. I’d committed to this course of action and half-assing it would endanger all of us further.
I quickly went through stacks of paper, eyes flickering upward to the door sporadically. Most of it was useless. Or designed to look that way. In between order forms for the restaurant and household expenses were bank transactions. To and from foreign accounts. One in Sicily.
I did not know much about the mafia, but I knew that the old country played a big role in the organization, that it was born there. The bank statement certainly wasn’t innocent. There wasn’t time for me to wonder on its importance, though. Not now, at least.
I worked quickly, folding the paper and shoving it down the back of my pants. As I looked through the rest, I made sure to scan every page of order forms and company memos. He was hiding them in plain sight.
Cristian was obviously confident that those in his house were too afraid to betray him—or maybe they respected him—and that the police would never get enough evidence for a warrant to find this information.
He was right. Everyone working in this house was probably afraid of him. I was. But my fear worked as fuel. My hatred and passion for the man pushing me past the point of sanity.
My eyes flickered over a shipping manifest. I couldn’t know if the quantities and port information would do anyone any good, but if they were using RICO, I suspected they had been collecting all sorts of seemingly innocuous information for years. Something benign on the surface could be the difference between prosecution and Cristian walking free. My life or my death.
I also shoved the manifest in my pants, knowing my time was running out. The rest of the drawers held nothing of consequence, nothing that I could gather, at least. And even if they did, I had nowhere left to hide them.
The journey from Cristian’s office to my bedroom was a terrifying one. Encountering Felix would be certain death. He was much too observant, able to smell the deceit on me. He would notice the misshapen curve to my pants immediately.
I would receive no mercy from him.
Maybe he wouldn’t even wait for Cristian to come home. Maybe he’d kill me right then and there.
Luckily, I did not have to find out what would become of me since I made it to my room undisturbed and alive.
For now.
I’d been sure I knew what I was doing when I put the dress on. Sure that revenge would taste sweet, that Cristian would get what he deserved. I’d committed today by stealing those files, burying them deep in my bathroom cabinet, shoved inside a box of tampons. My plan was to transport them to my office as soon as I could. They would serve as my death warrant if someone discovered them here. I’d already called Harris to tell him what I had. There was no going back now.
Since I’d done that, there was no reason for me to do what I was doing. In fact, what I was doing was certifiably insane in the wake of the choices I’d made. The smart thing to do would be to lock myself in a room, making it clear that Cristian wasn’t going to touch me again. He wouldn’t force himself on me.
He didn’t have to.
So if I could not control myself with him, I was going to control the way he fucked me. That was if he didn’t kill me for this.
And when he walked in and saw me in the dining room wearing the dress, the look on his face told me he might.
I’d never been completely scared of Cristian before. Not down to my bones terrified. Not like I was now.
There was a change in him. One that I had not experienced since I’d known him. This was him.
This was the mafia Don.
The murderer.
The heartless monster.
The man who would be my ruin.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” he snapped, yanking the words from somewhere deep, carnal.
I’d committed to this. Running scared would show weakness.
I may not have been a mafia Don, but I had in my possession the qualities to ruin a man.
So I twirled, the skirt of the dress flying up as I did so, revealing my lack of underwear. “Do you like it?” I asked sweetly, stopping to face Cristian once more. “Since I couldn’t go to work today, you know, on account of the bruise.” I pointed to my face. “I did some exploring. And I found this.” I fingered the skirt of the dress. “I came to my own conclusions about who it belonged to, and I figured since you decided you had a right to root through my past, so did I.” I languidly ran a hand down the dress. “Since we’re engaged to be married and everything.”