The Woman in the Wrong Place (Grassi Framily)

She tried to keep things amicable in front of her kids, but when they weren’t around, you could see just how toxic her relationship with her ex-husband had been. And how much having to co-parent with him still wore on her.

“No. Of course. Go ahead. I hope she feels better soon.”

“Me too. I can handle a lot of ick when it comes to my kids, but throw up always makes me a little queasy myself,” she said, actually looking a little green at the idea. Here, I have to jot down the new code for you,” she said, moving inside to grab a pad and pen and writing it down.

Matteo had changed the passcodes after the, well, let’s just call it “the incident.” And he’d made it clear he only wanted a few people to have the new one.

“I will tell Matteo that I gave it to you. I’m sure he won’t mind, given the situation. And he can change it with like two clicks of a button, so it’s not a big deal. Just make sure everyone is out before you lock up, or when they try to get out, the cops will be here and calling him. It would be a whole mess.”

“I got it. Don’t worry. Go take care of your girl,” I said, giving her a smile as she rushed out the door, frazzled but determined.

I wanted to know that feeling one day.

The kind of chaotic order that was modern motherhood.

It had taken a lot of soul-searching and healing even to be open to the idea of being a mom, but once I got to that place, it had been a very dominant thought in my life. And, if I were being honest, it might have been the big driving force that had me ready to hit the dating pool again. Even though I knew the pool had poisoned water and was teeming with sharp-toothed sharks and piranhas. And, you know, the damn rapey dolphins too. Can’t leave out those bastards.

I was becoming very aware of the passing of time. About how long it took to meet someone, get to know them, get serious, move in, make plans, get married, and then, finally, start a family.

I needed to get out there. Sooner, not later. So I didn’t have time to waste having a crush on my murderous mafia member of a boss.

Case closed.

I worked for another hour before, finally, the grumbling of my stomach reminded me that I’d only managed to choke down half of the mistake of a sandwich I’d ordered for lunch.

I packed away my work, putting it into my bag to bring home because, well, I knew the distraction would be welcome if I brought work home with me.

And then I grabbed my keys and headed out into the rest of the office, flicking off lights as I went, checking inside the offices, the kitchen, the bathrooms, and the barn to make sure everyone had made their way out.

I was just about ready to head out when I heard a noise.

In Matteo’s office.

My plan had been to duck my head and rush off, making sure not to make eye contact or acknowledge his presence at all.

The problem was, whoever it was in Matteo’s office wasn’t Matteo at all.

And as I rushed past, I must not have been as quiet as I thought.

Because suddenly, someone was yelling to someone else.

My heart tripped into overdrive then promptly flew up into my throat as I heard words no woman ever wants to hear.

“Get her!”

All that could seem to penetrate my mind right that moment was “no.”

No.

No freaking way was I going to be chased by another man, scared for my life, then faint out of fear, and end up in someone’s basement.

No.

Absolutely not.

It was too absurd even to consider.

So I turned and I booked it down the hallway toward the back door, finding myself very thankful that my work shoes were much more practical than my going-out shoes, so I didn’t have to worry about wobbling heels.

Footsteps gained on me, though, as I burst through the doors to the outside, surprised the glass didn’t shatter against the wall with how hard I’d thrown it open in my haste to get outside.

Why, I wasn’t sure.

Since there was no help to be found in a parking lot empty save but for my own car.

But at least my car meant a safe means of escape if I could just get to it.

I bleeped the locks as soon as my feet hit the pavement outside the door, feeling a bit of comfort in the sound, in knowing I was just a couple yards away from safety.

I could taste freedom.

And then hands were slamming into my shoulder blades from behind, catching me off-guard, sending me flying forward toward the ground.

I barely had time to throw out my hands to break my fall before I was landing, feeling the skin of my palms ripping open with the impact.