Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
DALLEN
I send off the last email of the day and shut down my laptop. The soft whir of the system powering down seems unnaturally loud in the otherwise quiet office. I lean back in my chair and reach for my phone, sending a quick message to Stephen that I’ll be leaving in five.
Tonight is important to both Stephen and me. I have to convince my parents, especially my father, that Stephen Moretti, no matter his family’s shady past, is who I want in my life.
By my side.
Did I love him? Had I fallen in love for the very first time?
I sigh and put down my phone, placing several papers into files and setting them neatly in a tray for filing tomorrow.
The overhead lights hum faintly above me, casting long shadows across the glass walls of the office.
I still don’t know. I know what I feel is stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before.
Probably not a hard outcome considering I’ve not dated anyone seriously, and that Stephen is my first sexual partner.
It’s only normal that I would feel far more feelings for him in that case.
Still, my stomach knots thinking about him. I don’t want to be apart from him. I plan things with an eye to what he’s doing and whether he can be included. I want him at my side, in my bed.
Maybe that means I do love him after all.
“Good evening, Dallen.”
I start at the sound of my name. The air in the office feels suddenly thinner. I’m alone, taking the extra hour to get ahead of my workload. The cleaning crew hasn’t even come through this floor yet. “Mr. Romero, how did you get in here?”
The pit of my stomach knots, and I stand, glad that the desk is between a man I no longer have any professional relationship with. Why is Elio Romero here? Has security allowed him to come up?
He tips his neck to the side, and I hear it crack in the stillness. “No welcome? No…good evening, Elio, how lovely to see you again? No handshake? Nothing?”
“It’s after office hours, and we don’t have a working relationship any more than a private one.
Why are you here, Mr. Romero?” The smirk on Elio’s face raises the hairs on the back of my neck, and I swallow.
I force the fear coiling through me down, not wanting him to know his presence here rattles me.
That I don’t trust him or what he is capable of.
There is something in his eyes that is unnerving…
I know the Romeros are not good people. Granted, they’re probably as bad as the Morettis, but at least Stephen’s family is trying to right their wrongs. I can’t see Stephen cornering any woman in an unoccupied office late at night with unknown motives.
That had to count for something.
Didn’t it?
He pulls out a chair and slumps into it. Even from here, the smell of brandy is hard to miss, sharp and sweet in the recycled office air, and I force myself to relax, to think clearly and keep hold of the situation.
“I came to state how disappointed our family is that you’re no longer our lawyer.
I’ve come to find out why we’ve been thrown over to your boss.
” He pauses, leaning forward on his knees and meeting my eyes.
“This decision doesn’t have anything to do with Stephen Moretti and you fucking him, does it?
That by working for the Romeros put you at odds with the Morettis, who killed my cousin. ”
I feign ignorance, not wanting to escalate the situation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What I do outside of my position here at Redwood & Tully is my decision, and private at that. Nothing to do with you or anyone else.”
“Ahhhh, but you see, Dallen, it does impact us thoroughly, and it pisses us off.”
He stands, and I swallow, reaching for my phone and gauging how quickly I need to be to run and reach the emergency exit stairs before he catches me. The elevator will take too long to reach my floor. He’ll have hold of me by then.
Sweat beads along my spine, and my heart thumps so loudly in my ears I’m sure he can hear it. I know, without a sliver of doubt, he’s going to hurt me. In what way, I don’t know, but whatever way it’s going to be, it’s going to be bad.
Very bad.
“We liked having you work for us. It suited our needs, but now that you no longer wish to, well, we no longer need your services. No longer have use for you.”
I clear my throat and smile, even though I know these moments may be the last of my life.
The city lights flicker through the window, and the entire office feels like a trap.
“Mr. Romero, your family—even if my boss now handles your file—is important to us, and we’ll endeavor to ensure you’re represented well in whatever legal matters you require.
I do apologize for stepping aside, but it was at my senior’s request, as he wished to have you on his books.
Perhaps if you wish for me to work with you again, I can put forward your disappointment, and we can start fresh first thing next week. ”
Elio shakes his head, scrunching up his nose. “Nah, I don’t think so. We know you chose a Moretti over a Romero, and that’s all we need to know about you. But I did want to see you one last time, give you a proper Romero send off.”
“A send off?” I’m going to be sick. I know it. “What does that mean?”
I glance at the clock on my desk. Eight twenty. I should be at the restaurant by now. If ever there is a time for Stephen to be concerned, to want to be overbearing and check on me, now’s the time.
As if the thought of him conjures him, my phone lights up, and I can see it’s a message from Stephen asking where I am. If I’ve left yet.
Elio starts to move around the desk, and I do too, wanting to keep the several feet of polished mahogany between us. “It means I’m going to mark you before I hit the Morettis in a way that they’ll never dare touch another Romero again.”
“Mark me?” I slide toward the door. It’s only a few steps away, and open.
I can run, but then he’ll chase. I slip off my heels, pushing them under the desk while he is distracted, looking over the paperwork scattered there.
I remain on tiptoes, not wanting him to know I’ve taken them off. That I don’t trust him.
I’m going to die.
The thought slams around my brain, and I feel detached from my body, like my skin wants to crawl off my bones. Get away from the danger unfolding around me.
“Don’t worry. Once it’s over, there’s no pain. Only peace, or so I’ve been told.”
I stare at Elio, unable to comprehend that someone could be so cruel, so callous, and psychopathic.
Before I can think better of it, I bolt.
I push myself as fast as I can through the office, the carpet burning under my bare feet.
I throw chairs over in my wake, anything to make it more difficult for him to catch me.
I can hear him, his footsteps pounding fast behind me, his vile, threatening words echoing down the glass-lined corridor and forcing me to run faster than I ever have in my life.
For my life.
I can see the emergency exit sign glowing red at the end of the hall. I’m almost at the door. If I can exit, it’ll make it harder for him to catch me. I’m certain it would.
But before I reach the handle, I feel his hand rip against my suit jacket.
I fall face forward, hitting the carpet hard. My hands burn, my knees too, before he’s on me, rolling me over to face him.
His fist slams into my face, and for several seconds, I’m unaware of the pain, of where I am or what’s happening, before a second blow drags me back into reality.
I reach up, clawing at his face, trying to kick my legs.
If I’m going to go down, I’m going down fighting.
If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll put his DNA under my nails so he rots in jail for life.
“You think you’re too good for a Romero?” I hear my shirt rip and air kiss my chest. His mouth comes down on my breasts, and he bites. Hard.
I scream, fighting to get away, but he doesn’t relent. He’s heavier than I think. He grabs my arms, placing them above my head, holding me down with a pressure that tears at my shoulders.
“Let me go. Please don’t do this.” I’ll beg. I’ll do anything not to die. To leave my parents. Stephen. The life I’ve worked so hard to build.
“Shut up, you cunt.” He slaps my face, and I’m sure I see stars. I can taste blood, and the adrenaline that has helped me run now makes me feel weak and cold.
His hand reaches between my legs, pushing up my skirt. I sob at his touch, his fingers digging into my flesh, brutal and cruel.
“Please, Elio. Please stop.”
“Ohh, yeah, baby. You want this. I know you do.” I hear him unzip his pants, his free hand tearing at my clothing.
He lets go of my wrist to adjust himself between my legs, and I take the opportunity to strike.
I punch him in the face, and for a moment, I have hope that I may get out of this situation yet.
I reach for a desk nearby, trying to anchor myself away, but he’s on me again.
He clasps my hair and thrashes my head against the floor.
Pain shoots through my skull, and my hands tingle, the fight—or at least the ability to fight—seeping out of me.
I feel him force my skirt up around my hips, my underwear too, and he bends my legs up, placing himself at my core.
I want to vomit.
I want to die and be free of this situation.
I never want to remember this night again.
Death would free me of this nightmare.
He rubs himself against me, and I open my eyes, maybe to say goodbye to the world I knew. The one I loved. The one I would miss.
Forever.