Chapter Six #2
My father’s smile widens, slow and deliberate. “Excellent work. I knew I could count on you.”
The Chief nods proudly, puffing up his chest. “One less problem on your hands. The suspect fits perfectly—history of addiction, prior charges, no one will ask questions.”
A sick heat rises in my stomach. I force myself to swallow it down and take a careful sip of whiskey, masking the tremor in my hand.
“Efficient as always,” my father says, raising his glass. “To closure.”
Nancy clinks her wine against his, the sound sharp and hollow.
I can’t move. The air feels tight, like the whole restaurant’s closing in. My father’s gaze flicks to me, encouraging me to react.
I manage a small nod and lift my glass halfway before drinking. The burn of whiskey on my tongue feels like punishment.
Because I know exactly what that arrest will mean for Leoni. Closure. An end. Even though it’s all a lie to protect the real culprits. And for the first time in my life, it bothers me.
When the conversation drifts back to politics and property deals, I pull my phone from my pocket under the table. A single message sits unread.
Anthony: It’s done. He’s in custody.
I type back three words.Warren: Keep her safe.
Then I lock the screen and look up, past the wine and forced smiles, to my father’s expression, self-satisfied, godlike. Untouchable.
When I walk into the office the next morning, she’s already here. Leoni’s sitting at her desk, chin resting on her hand, staring through her screen like she’s a million miles away. The usual spark in her eyes is gone, replaced by something quieter, heavier.
“Morning,” I say.
She jumps slightly, blinking like she’s surfacing from underwater. “Oh. Hey.”
I stop beside her desk. “You okay?”
She hesitates, then nods, though it’s clear she’s not. “There’s been progress,” she says finally. “In Isaac’s case. The police arrested someone last night.”
I control my expression, pretending to be surprised. “Really? That’s good news, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice cracks a little. “They wouldn’t tell us who. Just that they’ve got someone.” She glances up at me, eyes searching. “Could you…maybe find out who it is?”
I frown. “Leoni, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
Her brows lift, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You forget I’ve seen how people act around you. You know people, police, lawyers, criminals.”
The words hit like a slap. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m not stupid. I’ve seen the dodgy people you meet. The money passing hands. You’ve got a bodyguard. And I know what I signed.”
Something cold settles in my stomach. “What you signed?”
She nods. “That NDA. You think I didn’t wonder why a secretary needed one of those? It’s not exactly normal, is it?”
I laugh, it’s sharp, defensive. “Jesus, Leoni. I made you sign that because I’m rich, not because I’m running some underground operation. You’d be shocked how many women have sold stories about me. The NDA keeps things clean.”
“Right,” she says quietly. “So it’s about protecting yourself, not hiding anything.”
Her voice trembles slightly, and guilt hits me square in the chest. I shouldn’t be angry, but I am. Because she’s too close to the truth, and because I can’t stand the thought of her hating me for it.
Before I can stop myself, I grab her arm and pull her to her feet. “What do you think you know, Leoni?” I hiss, dragging her toward my office. Heads turn as I slam the door behind us.
She yanks free, eyes wide and wet. “I don’t know anything,” she says, her voice breaking. “I just… I just need to understand why my brother’s dead. And why everything in my life has been torn apart.”
The anger drains out of me as quickly as it came. Her face crumples, her shoulders shaking as tears spill over.
“Hey,” I say softly, guilt twisting through my gut. “Hey, don’t—” I reach for her instinctively, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I shouldn’t have—”
She covers her face with her hands, the sound of her crying hitting harder than any punch I’ve ever taken.
“I just need closure,” she whispers. “That’s all I want.”
For a long moment, I just stand there, useless. Then I pull her gently into me. She doesn’t resist, collapsing against my chest, the weight of her grief pressing through my shirt.
I rest a hand on the back of her head, staring over her shoulder at the city skyline outside. I want to tell her everything. That the arrest is a setup, that the real monsters are sitting at dinner tables laughing about it, but I can’t.
The door opens suddenly, and we both freeze.
My father fills the doorway, his grin wide and knowing. “Ah,” he says smoothly. “You’re busy.”
Leoni steps back quickly, wiping her eyes.
My father’s gaze flicks between us, satisfaction oozing from every word.
“You both look like you could use some air. Go for lunch. Somewhere quiet.” He winks at me, the silent message clear—keep her close.
Then he produces a business card and slides it towards me.
“In fact, take my booking. My car is already downstairs waiting.”
I clench my jaw so hard it aches. “Sure,” I mutter.
Leoni nods uncertainly, avoiding my eyes.
As my father leaves, that familiar sick feeling creeps back in. Guilt. Shame. And hatred. Hatred for him. For the control he holds over me. And for my weakness, because I’m exactly like my mother.
The restaurant my father picked is too clean, too expensive, too public.
White tablecloths, silver that could blind you under the lights, and not a single place to hide.
Exactly the kind of place where everything looks perfect, and everything is rotten underneath.
Because it’s built on corruption and dirty money, just like everything else in my life.
Leoni sits opposite me, fidgeting with the edge of her napkin. She looks small here. Out of place. I shouldn’t have brought her, but my father’s orders were clear. Take her out. Keep her close. Win her trust.
“Nice place,” she says finally, her voice flat. She isn’t impressed. “You eat here a lot?”
I smirk. “Not really. The people are pretentious.”
“So… your people then.”
That catches me off guard, and a laugh slips out before I can stop it. She’s the only woman I know who doesn’t even try to impress me with fake words or compliments.
When the waiter comes, I order for both of us because she’s barely looking at the menu. She doesn’t even argue, which worries me. I never thought I’d miss that irritating little sigh of hers.
Once the waiter leaves, silence settles like dust. She stares down at her glass, eyes shadowed and distant. I should say something, anything, but the words stick in my throat.
“You didn’t have to do this,” she says quietly. “You’re my boss, not my therapist.”
“Maybe I can be both today.”
That earns me the faintest curve of her lips, not quite a smile, but close. “You’re not exactly the comforting type, Warren.”
“No,” I admit. “But I’m trying.”
“Like I said, they arrested someone last night so things should start to feel easier now.”
I grip my glass a little too hard. “That’s good. You hear about these things happening all the time on the news and they never seem to make an arrest.”
She shakes her head, hair falling into her face. “I just… it doesn’t feel right. Nothing about this feels right.”
I force my voice to stay even. “Sometimes these things don’t make sense straight away.”
Her eyes flick to mine. “Do you think they could’ve made a mistake?”
“Arresting this person?” She nods, and I shrug. “I don’t know, but I’m sure they had their reasons. They don’t just pick someone at random.” I almost choke on my words.
“People on the estate are talking,” she admits, picking at her napkin. “They’re saying he was bad.”
“Bad?”
She nods, sadness filling her eyes. “Yeah. That Isaac was dealing drugs.”
Her words raise my heart rate. “People make things up when they can’t make sense of things.”
Her eyes finally find mine again. “He did have a mysterious new job.”
I half smile. “What made it mysterious?”
“He didn’t tell anyone about it. Not really. But he swore to me it was legit.”
“Then it wasn’t a mystery at all.”
She scoffs. “My dad used to say the same thing. I believed him until he ended up inside.”
“And what did he do?” I ask, keeping my tone casual.
The waiter arrives with our food, and I sigh in relief. The tension was getting too much, and I’m glad of the distraction.
I pick up my cutlery, glancing up when she doesn’t do the same. “Leoni, eat something. Please.” She carefully picks up her fork, and I set about cutting into my steak.
“I don’t like this,” she whispers.
I pause with the steak almost to my mouth. “You ordered steak before. I assumed you liked it.”
“Not the food,” she adds. “Us. This. Getting along.”
I laugh. “You prefer us to argue?”
She nods. “Yes. It’s what we do. It’s normal. And when everything else feels so… not normal, I need you to hate me again.”
I sigh, placing my fork down. “Leoni, I don’t hate you.”
“You said I was useless,” she says, a small smile tugging at her mouth.
“You’re getting better,” I lie.
“Besides, we only have another four weeks before I’m free, right?”
Her notice. I’d forgotten about that. “Did you give me your letter of resignation?”
Her brow furrows. “Well, no, but I told you—”
I shake my head, popping the juicy piece of steak into my mouth. “That doesn’t count.”
She glares at me. “But I told you! I said I was giving you notice.”
“Again, doesn’t count.” I take a sip of water. “Now eat something.”
“But that means I still have eight weeks.”
“Correct.” That pleases me way more than it should. “Until I get a dated letter, you’re stuck working for me.”
“Fine, I’ll draft it the second we get back,” she snaps.
I grin. “Not in work time.”
There’s a twinkle in her eye as she cuts her steak. “Dick,” she mutters under her breath.
The corner of my mouth twitches before I can stop it. “Excuse me?”
She glances up, feigning innocence. “Did I say that out loud?”
“You did.”
“Well, maybe I meant it.”
I laugh, low and genuine, the sound surprising even me. She looks almost pleased by it, though she tries to hide it behind her fork. For a fleeting moment, we’re just two people having lunch. No blood, no lies, no ghosts.
When she sets her fork down, I notice her hand tremble slightly before she pulls it into her lap. “You really don’t hate me?” she asks quietly, not looking at me.
“No, Leoni,” I say, my voice soft. “I never hated you.”
She glances up, and something in her eyes hooks into my chest, like she’s daring me to prove it.
The air between us tightens. Her breath hitches just enough for me to notice. I lean in without thinking, my eyes flicking to her lips. She doesn’t move away. Christ, she doesn’t even blink.
I can smell her perfume, something soft and warm that doesn’t belong in my world. My hand twitches, wanting to touch her, to trace the curve of her jaw, to pull her closer until I forget who I am and what I’m doing.
“Warren…” she whispers, barely audible.
A shadow falls across the table. And then the spell breaks.
“Boss,” says Anthony’s gruff voice.
I sit back fast, clearing my throat. Leoni blinks, the colour rushing to her cheeks.
“Car’s outside,” Anthony adds, eyeing me with the kind of look that says I saw that.
“Perfect timing,” I mutter, shoving my chair back and reaching for my jacket. I take out my wallet and drop a wedge of cash on the table.
Leoni stands too, fumbling for her bag. Neither of us speaks on the way out. The silence feels louder than the clatter of cutlery or the murmur of other diners.
Outside, Anthony opens the car door, and she slides in without a word. I follow, taking the seat beside her. She’s staring out of the window, her jaw tight, pretending the city traffic is fascinating.
Her lips are still parted, and I can’t stop thinking about how close I came to crossing a line I can’t uncross. Again. Fuck. I’m carrying out my father’s plan, and I don’t even mean to.
Anthony pulls the car to a stop outside the office. I glance across at Leoni, who’s still avoiding my eyes. Her fingers twist nervously around the strap of her bag.
“Go on,” I say quietly.
She frowns. “Aren’t you coming?”
“In a minute. Walking in together might start tongues wagging.”
She hesitates, then nods. “Right. Wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation.”
She slips out of the car and heads for the front doors without another word. I watch her disappear inside before running a hand down my face.
“She’s getting under your skin,” says Anthony, breaking the silence.
“Don’t start,” I mutter.
He smirks but doesn’t push. “I did what you asked. Dug into her family.” He pauses, glancing at me. “Her dad’s name is Michael Rowe.”
The name hits like a spark in a dark room. Familiar. Wrongly familiar.
“Rowe,” I repeat slowly. “As in Mick Rowe?”
Anthony nods. “That’s the one.”
I lean back against the seat, memories surfacing, blurred nights in my father’s office, laughter that wasn’t quite friendly, a man in a cheap suit with sharp eyes who was always around but never really seen. I was a kid, but I remember the way my mother would leave the room when he came in.
“He worked for my father,” I murmur. “I don’t know in what capacity, but he was close.”
“Not anymore,” says Anthony. “The guy’s still inside. Serving a long stretch. I’m still digging for the reason. Someone doesn’t want us to know; it was a difficult file to find. And…” He trails off, his tone changing. “You should know something else.”
I look up sharply. “What?”
“Your old man came to me.”
My gut tightens. “What did he want?”
“To tell me to stop digging.” The air goes cold. “He said, and I quote, ‘You might take orders from my son, but we both know who runs the show and who can end it.’” Anthony’s eyes meet mine. “Sounds like you’re rattling cages he doesn’t want opened.”
I stare out the window at the revolving glass doors where Leoni disappeared moments ago. My pulse hammers.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “That’s the problem, isn’t it. Look, if you want to stop––”
“I don’t. I’m telling you because you’re my boss and we both know who’s going to end this.” He smirks. “Just remember me when you’re at the top running the show.”
I grin too. “Always.”