Page 5 of Saving Reli


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in the office at nine. I’ll talk to HR and have them set you all up on the accounts. You’ll be on probation, as is everyone who joins.” No wonder why my father asked me that damn question; they must have been training for a long time to become as good as they are.

They all nod, their excitement clear to see.

“Get out of here; I’m going home. It’s Friday, and I need to sleep.” I need to send a few emails and get the files ready for Monday morning. Once that’s done, I’m going home.

Talin, the smart ass, salutes me. “Yes, boss.” He’s got a smirk on his face and I roll my eyes.

“Get out of here,” I repeat, and Cohen grabs Talin by his collar and drags him out of my office. “Monday at nine. Don’t be late,” I tell them and they all nod as Cage closes the door behind him.

No doubt they’ll all be going out to celebrate, each of them finding a woman to spend the night with. Once again, my thoughts go to Yoreli. I just hope that she’s okay.

Three

Reli

"Wake up!"

Huh? I move away from the sound, wanting to stay asleep.

"I said wake up, you lazy bitch!" That angry voice filters through my mind.

Smack.

I cry out at the pain that radiates from my ass.

"I said wake up."

Smack.

"Owwwwww," I cry, moving away once more. This time, I'm awake.

"I told you to wake up."

Fear hits me as I recognize that voice. Slowly turning to see her, I catch a glimpse of the alarm clock I have. The time is flashing. Oh no, there was a power outage last night. "What time is it?"

"Time?" she questions through gritted teeth. "I have less than half an hour before everyone arrives and you've not made any food."

I scramble off the bed. "My alarm didn't go off." As soon as I say the words, I instantly regret them.

Her brown eyes flash with anger. "I let you live under my roof, feed you, clothe you, and this is how you repay me? Making up excuses, today of all days?"

"I'm so sorry, Talia; I had my alarm set for six thirty. I was going to have everything ready. What can I do?" I'm so frightened right now. I've never seen her look so angry before. Blinking myself fully awake, I look at her, really look at her, and realize she’s dressed already. Why didn’t she wake me before she got dressed? She’s in her usual work attire of a pencil skirt and fancy blouse; today she’s paired them with a smart-looking blazer and her heels are at least six-inches.

She glares at me. "Get dressed. I need you to go to the store and get some food."

"What do you want me to get?" I ask as I rush to my wardrobe to get dressed. Fingers tangle in my hair; I let out a yelp as I'm pulled backward and thrown down onto the bed.

I watch in absolute shock as Talia raises her hand and viciously backhands me. My head is thrown to the side; my fingers brush along the skin where she's just hit me. It stings like hell.

"Get dressed. You have twenty minutes to get everything." She screams at me, "I should have gotten rid of you when your father died. You've been nothing but a burden." She turns on her heel and walks out of my room. “Don’t test me, Yoreli. You now have fifteen minutes.”

I race around the room getting dressed; I don’t want to make her any more angrier than she already is. I'm downstairs within two minutes. I snatch Talia's car keys off the table by the door, along with the shopping list she has given me and her credit card. I'm not allowed to have cash as she's worried I'll spend money on something and she'll not know. Whereas using her credit card means she can see exactly what I'm spending.

I rush out to the car and quickly slide into the plush leather seat. It’s a Bugatti Chiron Sport. This car is fast. I don’t get to drive it often. Talia has three cars; I usually have to drive the wagon, as I call it. It’s my dad’s old car. I race to the store; thankfully rush hour hasn't begun so there's no traffic.

After grabbing everything on the list as quickly as possible, I rush to the checkout line. As I stand here and practically tap my foot, the sharply dressed man in front of me takes his time to pay; he’s been on the phone for as long as I’ve been in line. His voice is deep and smooth. He’s tall and has got to be at least six feet, maybe even six-two? There’s something about his voice that’s that’s familiar, and yet I can’t seem to recall where I’ve heard it before.

As though he can feel me staring at him, he turns to look at me. I stifle a gasp as I take in his haunting green eyes. Those damn eyes of his have stayed with me since my father’s funeral. It’s John Princeton. I glance down as shame courses through me. I never wanted anyone to see me like this. I’ve never felt more ashamed in my life.

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