And doing shit behind the boss’s back was never fucking acceptable.
“Listen, I know you and Lorenzo have history. I’m not pretending to know whatever dynamic you all have going on. But I do know that doing shit behind the boss’s back never leads anywhere good. For anyone involved,” he said, gaze hard. “And I don’t appreciate feeling in the middle. So handle your shit. Clear the air with Lorenzo. Or I am going to need to do it for you?”
With that, he turned and made his way back to the car, leaving me alone on the sidewalk.
He was right.
I had to tell Lorenzo.
But when I glanced back at the house, I could make out the figure of the boss moving into the master bedroom on the second floor, walking up to Giana, and pressing a kiss to her forehead.
It could wait.
Besides, I had another excuse to talk to Ezmeray again.
Maybe this time, I wouldn’t fuck it up.
I figured showing up without dismembered body parts from her late husband was a good first step.
CHAPTER TEN
Ezmeray
I’d taken the police up on the option to have the apartment cleaned by professional crime scene cleaners, even though the actual damage hadn’t been that bad.
Honestly, it came down to the fact that I wasn’t ready to go back to the apartment.
Because going back to the apartment meant that Berat had access to me anytime he wanted.
I just wasn’t ready.
The cleaners bought me one more day.
I’d called Judy to ask if she’d seen anyone around the apartment aside from the police, and she’d confirmed that both the brothers and even some of the other men had been around once the tape had been removed.
They’d left with boxes.
I had no idea what they might have taken, but my stomach twisted at the idea that it might have been all the important documents that I would need to figure out my future.
But, I reminded myself, it was useless to worry about things that were already done, and things I couldn’t change.
So I went ahead and kept my room for one last day before I knew I needed to pull on my big girl panties and face whatever my future held.
With a sigh, I pulled my purse higher up on my shoulder, feeling like it was heavier with all the money stashed inside, even though that was all in my head.
I’d tossed on a simple, understated outfit in case the detectives were still watching me. Just a pair of wide-leg black slacks with a white top and flats.
Then I made my way downstairs and outside for the first time since I first arrived.
As much as I loved the food at the hotel, I was racking up a hefty bill, and I knew I could cut down costs if I just walked down the street to grab my food instead.
And since I had no idea what was going on with my finances, I had to be careful.
I had just picked out a juice, bagel, and a parfait at the convenience store when I felt a figure move in at my side.
They had their hood up, making it impossible to see their face.
But a familiar scent had me stiffening. My gaze moved downward to the hands, seeing scars I would know anywhere.
“What are—“ I started.
“We need to talk,” he cut me off, voice low. “Not here. You’re being watched,” he told me, making me stiffen. “Make yourself a coffee,” he demanded, making me aware that I was standing there looking really suspicious if I was being watched like he claimed.
My hands moved forward, grabbing a paper cup out of the dispenser and placing it under the caramel coffee carafe with a shaky hand.
“Relax, Ezzy,” he demanded, his voice like a soothing balm to my frazzled nerves.
“Where?” I asked, trying not to move my mouth too much even if my peripheral vision said there was no one watching me from the side, which meant they were likely behind me somewhere. Or maybe even outside. “They must be watching my room,” I added, scooting down the line toward the sugar and creamers.
“They’re watching the lobby. I can get in.”
“Am I in danger?” I asked, acting like pouring creamer in my coffee required the utmost attention, so I could drag it out.
“I don’t know yet. But no one is going to try to take you in broad daylight. You’re only a couple dozen yards from the hotel. Get back. Take the elevator. Get in and lock the door. Only open it for me.”
“Okay,” I agreed, chancing a look over at him, hoping my hair acted as a curtain so whoever was watching me missed the look.
“You’re okay,” he assured me, giving me a firm nod that somehow managed to make some of the tension leave my shoulders. “Now go,” he demanded, reaching to make himself a coffee.