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“Right, where do we…” My voice gets stuck in my throat as I see him sitting at the small conference table, laptop open in front of him, and an open box full of papers nearby.
“I need you to open your father’s files,” he says, spinning the laptop to face me. I hold back my groan of frustration. He really wastes no time, does he? Well, he’ll just have to wait.
“Right now? I haven’t even had my coffee!” Walking over to my desk, I pick up the steamy cup, taking a small sip. My eyes flick to Nico, who is watching me swallow, and I see his eyes trailing the movement of my throat. Putting the cup back down, I move around my desk and grab my handbag, pulling out a lip gloss and coating my pout until it shimmers before I take another sip, leaving a stain of color on the cup.
“Are you finished?” Nico says, looking exasperated as he sits, waiting for me. I see his jaw tick slightly, and I am glad that I frustrate him as much as he frustrates me.
“You know, I don’t think I am,” I throw back at him, taking my time to tidy up the non-existing mess on my desk.
“Are you always this infuriating?” He leans back, legs spread a little as his hand rubs his chin like he is assessing what to do with me. He takes up nearly all the room at my table, his presence almost overpowering.
“What makes you think I know how to access his files? I haven’t seen my father for years. Have you not researched our past, or do you just not believe it? You have recently found out that he is an evil bastard, but I have known that fact for most of my life.”
“Try.” One word, and it was an order. I look at the screen, and I see the blinking cursor in front of me. The webpage open is to my father’s private business account, one where he stores a range of things, I’m sure.
I sigh out in defeat as I walk over to where he is sitting and pull the laptop toward me. Just for fun, I type in the word‘asshole’into the password section and hit enter. The words‘Please Enter the Correct Password’flash across the screen in red text and the man next to me raises his eyebrow, clearly knowing what I typed and running out of patience. I give him a smartass smirk of my own in return.
Leaning against the table, I drill my fingernails in succession, creating a beat as I think, wanting to annoy him but also trying to get my mind into gear. I am already frazzled by the events of this morning. I didn’t miss the way he looked at me, the way his fingers felt against my cheek, and although he drives me absolutely crazy, when he pushed my hair out of my face just moments ago, I nearly whimpered. With Nico now sitting so close to me, I can feel the soft material of his shirt grazing my arm, and it’s enough to distract me.
With his woodsy cologne invading my senses, my thoughts remain jumbled, so I stand up and begin to pace the floor again to get away from him.
“What have you tried?” I ask. Surely the mob has tried to crack the system already. Surely they haven’t just left it all to me.
“We have tried thousands of different combinations; birthdays, holidays, names, addresses, recurring trips...” Nico replies as he leans back in his chair, watching me as I continue to pace back and forth, wearing a line in my carpet.
“Well, that’s your first mistake.” I see him grit his teeth, his jaw clenching.
“He doesn’t think like a normal person. He has no empathy, no love for anything or anyone. The last thing it would be is someone's name or birth date,” I state with an eye roll. These mob men can’t be that smart if they haven’t figured out that small fact.
“So what do you think it is, then?” His body is more open now, his body language more accepting. Less demanding and more collaborative, an approach I prefer, even if he is still an asshole.
“What deals made him money? Lots of money? What properties has he bought, what person did he fuck over…?” I feel myself get into work mode. The buzz of the riddle already starting to spark in my belly as I try to recall anything I know about the man whose blood I share, but coming up empty.
I look at Nico, and his eyes are already on me. I don’t think they’ve left for a second. “What?” I bark out to him as I pause my steps.
“You really have no idea who your father is, do you?” he says slowly, almost somewhat fascinated.
“If you are referring to what deals he has done, where his investments are, or what he has for breakfast each morning, no. I have absolutely no idea,” I state honestly, and it appears Nico is only just starting to understand exactly how estranged my father and I are.
“And before you say anything else, I think I prefer not to know. Let’s just go through the paperwork and see if that gives us any clues,” I murmur as I take the seat next to him at the table again, now in full concentration mode as I delve into the files Nico has brought with him.
We sit close together in silence, each of us looking over the paperwork, but I don't miss the heat radiating from his body or the way I see his eyes flick over me from time to time in my peripheral vision. I feel unsettled, but not scared. If anything, my body lights up under his attention. Which should concern me more than it does, frankly.
It has been a very long time since a man invaded my space like this. Sure, I have male clients all the time, but not ones that show up to my apartment, bring me coffee every day, and whose one simple touch has me itching for them to do it again. I’m not sure why I let him touch me in the first place. If it was anyone else, I would have slapped his hand away. Maybe I should have, maybe that would have set up some boundaries. Formal working expectations. Although I already know that nothing about this arrangement is going to be as expected.
Men have never been a priority for me. I constantly had my head stuck in my school books at college, rarely coming up for air. I did have a few short-term boyfriends here and there, but no one of significance. The termcareer focusedwas invented just for me, as I have done nothing but work day and night, seven days a week, for the past few years to build my career.
Yet here I am, sitting next to a man from the mob, looking through piles and piles of corporate jargon belonging to the man who’s responsible for my life crumbling around me, still not sure exactly what I am looking for, but praying it isn’t something so bad the mob decides to end me for it.
I swallow at that thought, and I look over at Nico. He is gruff, arrogant, and obviously deadly, but would he kill me? That is such a stupid question, of course he would.
There are so many statements, bank letters, company contracts, and every kind of document in between to go through, so thankfully that keeps me occupied from my spiraling thoughts. My eyes scan for anything and everything, hoping some clue jumps out and slaps me in the face so this whole ordeal can be over with already.
After an hour of slowly processing letters, statements, file notes, and even his personal diary (which was extremely eye opening), I sit on my office floor with paperwork scattered around me, ready for a mental breakdown.
“More coffee?” Nico asks as he stands up from the table, obviously sensing my need for a refresher.
“Sure,” I reply, rubbing my eyes and stretching my arms out. I’ll be lucky if I don’t get a migraine from staring at the papers for so long.
