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Felix was silent for a few beats. “For himself.”
With that confusing answer, he turned and walked away, leaving me naked in the kitchen.
Chapter Seventeen
I figured that I was done with surprises. That the hits would no longer land, no longer rattle me. Especially after last night. Whatever last night was.
I should’ve known better.
I was watching the clock which was creeping toward five PM. I never left at five. Not before I met Cristian. I’d usually be the last one to leave the office, which was saying something in a firm full of workaholic lawyers, especially those vying for partner. Now more than ever, I should’ve wanted to stay in the office, to be somewhere safe, familiar and far away from Cristian’s mansion.
But every afternoon, my eyes darted to the clock repeatedly, my mind moving away from whatever work I was doing and going to whatever Cristian might do to me when I got back. Well, until he left, that is. Now I watched the clock, hating it. For moving so slowly.
Days still remained before Cristian came back. I hadn’t heard from him. I hadn’t expected to. He wasn’t going to call me, telling me how much he missed me or that he was counting the hours until he came home.
I should’ve been thankful for the respite. To clear my head. Though after last night, my head was murkier than ever.
I didn’t feel guilty. Wasn’t scared that Cristian would find out.
My eyes drifted from the clock to my phone vibrating on the desk.
Greg Harris.
I bit my lip, glancing down toward the locked drawer where I had the scant amount of paperback I could find. Who knew if the shipping manifests and the emails would even be incriminating enough to do anything. No, that was a lie. I knew. Along with my testimony with everything I’d witnessed, the descriptions of people I’d seen at the house. It would be enough.
I pressed decline on the call and glanced up at the knock on my office door.
There it was. I could still be surprised.
“Diana,” I greeted, taking in the woman I’d last seen at a very awkward Christmas dinner. Pete’s father had been berating him for yet another failed business, she had been quietly trying to defend her son. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
No nerves or guilt rose up in me seeing Pete’s mother, knowing he was dead.
Diana normally had a warm smile for me whenever we saw each other. She always worked hard, trying to offset whatever harsh environment I found myself in when visiting their estate.
It turned out I thrived in harsh environments. I just needed murderers and mobsters instead of heiresses and WASPs.
A good thing too, since Diana did not look warm or welcoming. I wondered if she knew he was dead. But she couldn’t. I’d looked at the news, his social media out of curiosity, to see if his body had turned up somewhere. It hadn’t. No one seemed worried about him.
“I doubt you would be,” she replied, strutting into my office, eyes flickering over me in distaste. She’d never looked at me like that. Not once. I didn’t think the woman was even capable of such a look. “You likely weren’t ever expecting to see any of us again, since you broke my Pete’s heart.”
I stared at her in surprise, not just at her expression, her tone, but at the words themselves. “Broke his heart?” I scoffed. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
She scowled. Or tried too. There was too much Botox in her face for such expressions. “No. I’m quite serious. He was beside himself at first. Drinking, partying. Now he won’t even answer my calls. Won’t see me.”
I bit my lip, wondering how long it would take her to raise some kind of alarm. Pete had disappeared before, without calling, without telling anyone. They were used to his antics. I wondered whether I’d be roped into an investigation whenever it was launched. I wasn’t much worried.
“Who do you think you are?” she demanded, hands on her hips. “Pete was the best thing that ever happened to you.”
She approached my desk, skirting the chairs so she could tower over me, look down on me.
I steeled my spine, no longer confused as to what had changed this woman’s disposition. She was trying to protect her piece of shit son. The one who had obviously come crying to her, spinning lies about how our relationship ended. He, of course, was the victim. If only she knew what he’d been subjected to in his last moments.
“Really? You think your son was the best thing that ever happened to me? Wow, you really are deluded.”
Her face reddened, and she narrowed her eyes even more. “You really are a piece of trailer trash who doesn’t know her place,” she spat.
I rolled my eyes. “Original insult from a benzo addicted WASP who has no talents apart from picking drapes that look like shit,” I shot back.
