Off the Record (With Me in Seattle Mafia 3)

“Thanks.” She smiles shyly. “It’s hard to continue thinking of yourself as dowdy and as the ugly duckling when the man you love can’t keep his hands off you and tells you how irresistible you are all the time.”

“I like Shane a lot,” I say and bring my knees up to my chest. “He’s really intense and quiet, but I can see how much he loves you. And I know, without a doubt, that you’re safe with him.”

“We’re all safe,” Ivie says. “And it’s a damn good feeling.”

* * *

I can handle the hangover. It’s the memories that hurt.

I blow out a breath, prop my hands on my hips, and try not to think about how horribly I must smell right now. I stayed the night at Nadia’s, and after she and Carmine left for their fun honeymoon this morning, I dragged my ass out of their house and over to mine so I could pack up what I want to keep.

So far, it’s two boxes.

In the three hours that I’ve been here, I’ve managed to throw away a ton of crap. I’ve made piles of things to be donated. And all of the furniture can also be donated or sold with the house.

Thankfully, Richard and I only lived here for a few months before he died, so I don’t have many years’ worth of accumulation to dig through. I’ve managed to pack a couple of bags full of clothes to last me several weeks, all of my toiletries, and I have my briefcase full of office stuff. I can be mobile for a little while.

With my closet emptied, I make my way downstairs. I want to keep my KitchenAid mixer. It was a gift from Ivie, and I use it a lot. I like to cook. I also box up the cookware that was a wedding gift, only because it was exactly what I wanted when I registered, and it’s top-of-the-line. I also throw a few knickknacks into the box, but the rest can go.

Next, I box up my library. This was my favorite room in the house, and a space that Richard never came into. He didn’t like to read. It takes more than an hour to box the books because I like to look at each one and think about how much I love the stories inside.

But once the shelves are empty, I only have two rooms left to tackle, and I’ve been avoiding them both like the plague.

Richard’s office, and the basement.

I gather up a couple of empty boxes and walk into the office first.

Thankfully, right after he died, we went through most of the paperwork left in here, and I burned it in the backyard while I guzzled down a bottle of wine. Most of what’s here is just masculine furniture and some office supplies.

I start to box up some things but then stop and sit back on my haunches.

“What am I packing anything for?” I wonder aloud. “So it can sit in a storage closet until I die and become someone else’s problem? That’s dumb. I don’t want any of this.”

I leave it all in the middle of the room, set to go out in the trash. I do make sure there’s nothing in there that should be shredded, but it all looks pretty harmless.

Until I cross to the safe behind a painting on the wall. I already looked inside after he died, and it was empty, but I open it one last time just to make sure I didn’t overlook anything.

“Empty,” I murmur, staring at the black velvet interior. But just as I’m about to turn to leave, I notice a small, black ribbon in the back corner. “I swear my life is a movie plot.”

I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose.

“I don’t want to pull on that ribbon.” I shake my head, pace the room, and then come back to the safe. “But I have to. Goddamn you, Richard.”

I tug on the little strip of fabric, and a false wall gives way. Behind it is a stack of cash at least six inches thick and an envelope with my name on it.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

I take it all to the ugly brown couch and sit, then open the envelope. With dread hanging heavy in my belly, I begin to read.

Annika,

If you’re reading this, you found the hidden compartment in the safe. You’d better hope that I’m dead. Because if not, and I find out you’ve been snooping, I’ll kill you myself.

Now, then. In the event that I’ve died, there are a few things to say. First of all, our marriage is a scam. I don’t love you. I find you to be the most boring and inconvenient person I’ve ever met in my life. You’re a snooze-fest, A. But I know your heart is in the right place, and that since we’ve been married, I’ve put you in situations that you found to be…uncomfortable.