Bonus Chapter
Serena
If you don’t want to get eaten by a shark, you don’t swim in its waters. But when you’re the one who schedules a 6 a.m. boardroom meeting with a shark in an Armani suit and eyes sharper than its teeth, you show up, smile, and pray it doesn’t turn on you.
My heart pounds as I sit across from him, clinging to the composure I’ve spent years perfecting. The polished smile feels brittle, like it might crack under the weight of this moment. The skirt I squeezed into this morning pulls across my hips a little too tight, a regret I can pin on last night’s second slice of cake. But none of that matters now.
Because of him.
Alejandro Marzetti.
The Reaper.
He’s sitting there like he owns the room, like he owns us, like everything within these walls is already under his control. I’ve heard the stories, everyone has. About what he’s capable of, what happens when you cross him. But hearing stories doesn’t prepare you for the man.
His presence is overwhelming. Powerful and dangerous, like gravity, pulling everything into his orbit. When his dark eyes meet mine, they pin me in place, like I’m some kind of prey he’s already decided to spare, or destroy. On the back of his hand, stretched across his knuckles, is a tattoo of a scythe.
Simple. Sharp. Deadly.
It’s not just ink. It’s a warning. A promise that comes with consequences. I’ve seen tattoos before, hell, I even have a couple. But this one? It’s different. It feels alive, like a shadow that follows him, like it carries his name louder than he ever could.
His eyes track mine, landing on the ink across his hand. For a beat, his expression is unreadable, and there it is. The faintest twitch of his lips, a shadow of a smirk. It’s not a smile, it’s too controlled for that, but it’s enough to tell me he knows. He knows exactly what this mark does to people. He knows how it sends a shiver down the spine of anyone who sees it. How it makes them hesitate just long enough to make a mistake.
And Alejandro? He doesn’t just punish mistakes. He devours them. Along with everything else.
His reputation doesn’t end with taking lives. He takes your legacy. Your name. Ensures that when you’re gone, there’s no trace left. No one remembers you, not even the walls you thought you built to last. And now, he’s sitting across from me, cool as ever, like we’re discussing quarterly earnings and not my worst nightmare inching closer by the second.
But I won’t let him see me break.
I force my mind back to the deal on the table. I can’t let this man distract me. I won’t let him. But something in the air tells me this isn’t going to be easy.
“Ms. Harris,” he said, his voice low, deliberate. His accent is smooth, the words coming out like a caress, but there’s no mistaking the bite behind them. “I don’t think you understand.”
I lean in just slightly, my fingers resting on the table, feeling the cool surface under my fingertips as if it might anchor me. “I understand perfectly,” I said, my voice steady.
He smirks. That smile that says he’s already won. And maybe he has. Maybe he’ll walk away with everything, and I’ll walk away with nothing but a lesson learned.
But I’m not ready to let him win. Not yet. Not without a fight.
I’m not afraid of his tattoo, of the reputation he carries, of the things people say about him when he’s not around. I’ve had my own battles, my own scars, and I don’t plan on letting this man add to them.
I meet his gaze head-on. Let him see that I’m not backing down.
Because I know something he doesn’t.
I’m the storm he didn’t see coming.
I glance at Ms. Brooks. Her poker face is flawless, her expression carved from stone. But her hand clutching and trembling against the armrest—betrays her.
She’s terrified.
And if Ms. Brooks is terrified, I should probably already be running.
Instead, I click my pen. Straighten my spine. And take the leap.
“This,” I said, sliding the polished folder across the table like an olive branch, “is our repayment plan. Structured installments, calculated with interest. A timeline that maintains financial stability for the company.”
Alejandro doesn’t reach for the folder right away. Instead, his lips curve in a slow, deliberate smirk. He’s testing me, toying with me, and we both know it. Finally, he picks it up, thumbing through the pages like it’s a takeout menu from a cuisine he has no appetite for.
“And tell me, Ms. Harris,” he said, voice low, smooth, and dripping with condescension. “What exactly do you expect me to do with this?”
Stay calm, Serena. Don’t let him see the crack in your armor.
“This plan honors the original debt,” I said evenly, holding his gaze. “It resolves the matter in a way that benefits everyone.”
He chuckled, a sound so deep it reverberates through the room, curling its way around my ribs. “Cute,” he said, tossing the folder onto the table like it’s worthless.
Cute. They use that word, to break your spirit, to tell you, without saying it, that you’re out of your depth.
“This company,” he continued, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table like a man holding court, “seems to be doing quite well these days. Expansion plans? Stores outside the state?” he said his finger hoovering over his lips, lightly grazing them is eyes look over as if deep in thought. “I think I even saw a commercial for it, a collaboration with one of those luxury perfumes…” he tsk and snapped his fingers up, summoning up the memory, “What was that perfume, Lorenzo?”
He focuses on a big, muscular man with a scar across his face, who seems strong enough to lift a car if he wanted to. “Minuit”. The man’s voice has a French accent.
“Ah, that’s right.” He said, “Bold. Elegant. Timeless.” He said his voice is mocking, repeating the tagline from the commercial. “Evelyn, I have to admit, I’m impressed.” He pays his full attention to Ms. Brooks as if she’s the only one in the room.
I look to her but her eyes are still on his. My stomach drops. My smile falters.
We haven’t even announced the expansion yet.
Ms. Brooks stiffens beside me, her voice tight when she speaks. “Alejandro, this arrangement was never supposed to—”
“I don’t care what it was supposed to be,” he said, slicing through her words with a tone sharper than a blade. “I care about what it is now. And what it is…” His gaze shifts to me, dark and all-consuming. “…is a goldmine.”
I keep my expression neutral, though every instinct told me to run. But running wouldn’t save me, not from him.
“You’re good with numbers, aren’t you, Ms. Harris?”
“I manage the books,” I said carefully. No more, no less.
His smirk widens, a predator scenting blood. “Good. Then you know exactly how this works. A successful business like this? It’s not just about making money. It’s about cleaning it.”
There it is. The words hit me like a punch to the chest, stealing the air from my lungs.
“Excuse me?” I said, though I know exactly what he means.
“This company,” he said casually, as if he’s discussing a grocery list and not confessing to a crime, “is the perfect laundromat. And as of today, I’m not just your creditor. I’m your partner.”
I glance at Ms. Brooks, whose face has gone pale. Her lips move, but no sound comes out at first. When she finally finds her voice, it’s thin, trembling. “That wasn’t the deal.”
“The deal’s changed,” Alejandro shrugs like he’s rearranging furniture. “Business is booming, Evelyn. I want my piece of the pie.” his gaze slid over to Ms. Brooks—Evelyn, as he calls her. He stares at her intently, a dark flicker crossing his eyes. Whatever is happening between them, is woven into every glance, every unspoken word between them. And it’s enough to make me feel like an intruder in my own meeting.
What the hell is going on?
Evelyn shifts in her chair, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her usual poised demeanor is slipping, her polished smile wavering as Alejandro’s attention sharpens on her.
The audacity of what he said slams into me, and before I can stop myself, the words spill out. “We won’t agree to this.”
His eyes snap to mine, deadly and freezing me in place. “Oh, you will,” he said, his voice a low timber edged with steel. “Because if you don’t, I’ll call in the full debt. Today. With interest.”
His gaze lingers back to Ms. Brooks, and I see it...how her fear isn’t just rooted in survival and something is far more personal. The weight of guilt hangs between them, thick and unspoken.
Alejandro had just leaned back, his cold smile curving like a knife, when the door swung open.
“Did I miss a meeting?” Julien’s deep voice cut through the tension like a record scratch, startling everyone in the room. He stood in the doorway, holding a large paper bag in one hand, his tailored suit somehow managing to look effortless. His eyes scanned the room, briefly landing on me before moving to his mother, and then, finally, Alejandro.
For a second, the room held its breath.
Alejandro didn’t flinch, didn’t acknowledge Julien like he’d even registered his presence. Instead, he rose smoothly from his chair, adjusting his cufflinks as though the interruption meant nothing.
“I’ll be in touch,” Alejandro said, his tone as deliberate as ever, his dark eyes fixed solely on Evelyn. It wasn’t a goodbye, it was a promise.
He didn’t glance at Julien, didn’t even glance my way. He turned and strolled out, his men falling into step behind him like shadows.
The door clicked shut, leaving silence in his wake.
“What have I done?” she whispered.
I stare at the door, Alejandro’s shadow still lingering in my mind like a ghost that refuses to leave.
We’re in the deep end now. And the sharks are circling.
The question is no longer if we’ll survive. It’s how much of us will be left when it’s over.