Chapter 5

CHAPTER

FIVE

Anya

I wake up groggy with an odd sensation in the pit of my belly.

Then I remember.

Jumping from the bed, I run to the bathroom and empty my stomach in the toilet.

It's more than morning sickness. It's the memories from last night flashing like stark pictures through my mind. The shock prevented me from fully processing the facts, but in the light of day they're sharper and clearer, slicing through my conscience right to my soul.

Mr. Lewis is dead.

Murdered.

I'm an accomplice, an alibi to his killer no less.

The thought makes me queasy all over again. Spasms fold me double, but only bile comes out. The acid burns my throat. I grip the bowl of the toilet as dry heaves rack my body. When the attack passes, I drag in a few ragged breaths to get control of myself.

The ringtone of my alarm sounds from the bedroom, an unsavory reminder that I have to get dressed, put on a normal face, and go to work. I have no idea how I'm going to pull off the act.

Saverio was right about one thing. I'm a bad liar. The urge to come clean is huge. I contemplate telling the truth and going into hiding with Livy for all of one second before I have to admit the futility of the idea. I'd have to take my mom too, and that's impossible. I have no doubt Saverio will hunt down my family and friends and kill every person. Besides, Livy is old and frail. Her life is here. How can I expect her to run from an organized crime syndicate?

Who am I kidding?

We won't stay under the radar for long before they find us. They're too resourceful. Too powerful. I'm not familiar with the crime families in the city, but I did a search on the phone Saverio gave me before going to bed. What I found wasn't encouraging.

Saverio's face popped up in a few articles about angel investors and startup companies. He co-owns a software company with the man I saw with him, a man called Giorgio Bianchi. He's the one who pointed me in the right direction. Giorgio Bianchi is linked to one of the most notorious families in the city. His father, Luigi, is suspected of underhanded dealings in crime organizations, but there's no concrete evidence to support the allegations. Long lists of felonies and murders are attributed to the family. The violence that goes hand in hand with those unlawful deeds is atrocious. I stopped browsing after a few minutes of scrolling through murder scene photos, sick to my stomach.

No, there's only one option. I have to pull myself together and keep up the charade. If not, I'll end up in a dark alley with my throat slit, my life bleeding out while Saverio holds me upright in a twisted act of compassion.

As long as I'm his alibi, I'm safe. It's a terrible burden to live with, a lie that will eat away at my soul for the rest of my life, but I have more to consider than just myself. I have to think about my baby, the innocent life I created in one irresponsible night, and Livy, who literally saved me. How can I repay her kindness by getting her hurt or killed ?

Deriving strength from that thought, I push to my feet and brush my teeth. After washing my face, I dress and eat a light breakfast of yoghurt and fruit before tackling the dreaded task of going to work.

Outside, I'm rewarded with a brief moment of reprieve as I'm swallowed by the masses who are heading to work, going about their day and the business of survival. For a short while, I'm just another face in the crowd, but questions plague me on the way to the office.

Mr. Lewis always arrived early. Who will explain his absence to the employees? When he didn't come home last night, his wife would've reported him missing. By now, she would've identified his body. I grow sick again as I consider how his family must feel, but I try not to think about that. If I do, I won't be able to go through with the show I have to put on.

I go over my speech all the way down the block, rehearsing the story I'll tell my colleagues in my head, the one Saverio fabricated, but I'm not prepared for the commotion that waits near the office. Police cars are parked in the street. I can't look at the alley that's barred with yellow police tape. The memory of what I saw is too raw. I'm afraid if I turn my head in that direction, I'd see Mr. Lewis lying on the ground on his side, staring at me with wide, accusing eyes. Somehow, without his hat and his briefcase, he looked naked.

I squeeze my eyes shut to expel the mental image, dragging air through my mouth not to throw up again. I'm shaking all over. I want to slow down until I've pulled myself together, but it will look strange if I'm late. I always arrive at work on time.

Pushing myself on, I put one foot in front of the other. One step at a time. One thought at a time. Survival. I focus on nothing but breathing and walking until I reach the familiar red-brick building. At the sight of it, I almost lose my composure and burst into tears, but the officer who stands next to Zack at the door sobers me.

My stomach drops. The guilt that sends a rush of adrenaline through my veins is foreign and unpleasant, but my will to live is stronger. The child I carry fuels my determination not to become Saverio's next victim.

Forcing a smile, I greet Zack and the officer before posing my question in a tremulous voice. "What's going on?"

"You better come inside," Zack says, holding the door for me.

The sympathy and silent support in his gaze only make me feel worse. I don't deserve his compassion and kindness.

The officer leads me aside and shares the news of Mr. Lewis's violent passing in cryptic terms. As he carries on about the protocol of questioning the staff, I register the movement of his lips, but I hardly hear a word he says. I'm too frantic. I'm too worried that the truth will pour out if I open my mouth. I must appear upset, because Zack rushes over and asks if I'd like a glass of water.

Not trusting my voice to speak, I shake my head.

I'm going straight to hell.

The officer takes me upstairs to the staff room where a few employees are already gathered, all looking bewildered. He explains that we'll be questioned individually. I flop down in one of the boardroom chairs that's pushed against the wall, trying not to make eye contact with the others who are conversing in hushed voices. I'm too scared they'll see the guilt on my face.

Time ticks by slowly. I peruse the room in an effort to keep busy and not to go out of my mind. Numbers are scribbled in long columns on the whiteboard in the corner.

Seventy-five thousand one hundred and sixteen plus three thousand five hundred and ten plus eighty-six thousand plus fifty-five thousand six hundred and sixteen equals two hundred and twenty thousand two hundred and forty-two.

Seventy-five thousand one hundred and sixteen times three thousand five hundred and ten equals two hundred and sixty-three million, six hundred and fifty-seven thousand, one hundred and sixty.

I carry on until I've multiplied all the numbers and then do subtractions in my head.

When it's finally my turn, an officer escorts me down the hallway past the open plan offices to the corner office at the end. The HR manager, Ms. Price, stands next to a female officer. Their heads are bent over a clipboard.

"That's the full staff count," Ms. Price says, glancing up as we pass. "There's no one absent except for Mr. Fisher who's been on leave since last week."

Her voice fades away as the officer opens the door of the big office and shows me inside. Another officer sits behind Mr. Lewis's desk. The couple of times I've been inside this office were enough to familiarize me with the huge mahogany desk, the collection of South American tribal dolls locked in a glass showcase, and the thick wool rug in the center of the floor. What gets to me are the framed photographs on the walls. Graduation ceremonies. Family vacations. Birthdays. Mr. Lewis's wedding photo.

A husband and father is gone, and I know who's responsible. Only, his murderer will never be brought to justice. The thought leaves me lightheaded. Guilty. Despicable. Raging. It makes me feel helpless and trapped. Suffocating.

The officer behind the desk stands, his expression concerned, while the one at my side takes my elbow.

The one behind the desk speaks. "Are you all right, Ms. Brennan?"

"She's not," someone says in a deep, suave voice from the door.

I freeze, not having the courage to turn around and confirm what my mind already knows.

"It's obvious," Saverio adds in a dark tone as he appears like an apparition in front of me, tall and formidable in a gray three-piece suit.

The small gold hoop in his ear contradicts the formal style, adding a touch of daring rebelliousness, but instead of clashing with the power his designer clothes evoke, it enforces the image by adding a semblance of danger. He's an unconventional man who doesn't follow rules, and his choice of style shows it.

Something so chilling flashes in his startling blue eyes as he looks at where the officer grips my elbow that my breathing stutters. Locking his fingers around the officer's wrist, he squeezes hard enough to make the officer flinch as he forcefully removes his hand from my arm.

"Please," Saverio drawls with a cold smile, holding on to the officer's wrist. The corners of his eyes tighten as he pins the officer with an arctic stare. "Do not touch my girlfriend. I can assure you, neither she nor me finds it pleasant."

Despite Saverio's polished tone and fake smile, the menace emanating from him is so potent that my mouth goes dry. The officer takes a step away from me only to find himself still trapped in the vise of Saverio's fingers.

"I was only—" the officer starts, but his words are cut short when Saverio's knuckles turn white.

The man bends under Saverio's hold, writhing like an animal caught in the iron teeth of a trap.

The man behind the desk makes to move just as Saverio lets his co-worker go. Both officers are frozen in place, seemingly unsure about what happened or how to handle it.

Ignoring their bafflement, Saverio wraps an arm around my waist and leads me to one of the visitor's chairs facing the desk. "There you go, tesoro . Have a seat." He pushes me down gently before sitting next to me and taking my hand. "This must be a terrible shock for you."

Like the officers, I'm too taken aback to react. What is he doing here? Well, I know why he came, but how did he know they were about to question me?

The officer behind the desk comes to his senses first. Taking back some authority, he crosses his arms and widens his stance.

He cocks an eyebrow at Saverio. "And you are?"

Saverio takes a business card from his pocket and slides it over the desk without letting go of my hand. "I'm Anya's boyfriend. I came as soon as she called me."

My lips part at the blatant lies and how effortlessly Saverio spews them. I have to remind myself to shut my mouth.

The officer glances at the card before lifting his gaze to Saverio. "Why would you do that?"

Saverio pulls my hand into his lap. "To support my girlfriend, of course. If you're uncomfortable with my presence, I can ask that my lawyer come instead."

A ghost of a smile plays over the officer's lips, but it's not friendly. "This is a routine questioning. We're not accusing Ms. Brennan of anything."

"That's my understanding." Saverio's tone carries a challenge. "Therefore, my presence shouldn't be an issue."

"No issue at all," the officer says, raising his hands in an almost mocking gesture. "We already have Ms. Brennan's statement from last night, which claims that you walked her home after work."

Saverio holds the officer's gaze squarely. "That's right."

"What time was that again?" the officer asks, looking at a piece of paper that lies in front of him.

"Not long after midnight."

"Did you meet her outside the building?" the officer asks.

"A little farther down the road," Saverio says. "I was running a couple of minutes late." Raising his shoulders, he smiles. "Traffic."

The officer continues to ask me a few questions about when I last saw Mr. Lewis and what happened after I left. One lie after the other tumbles from my lips, each one twisting my insides into knots.

All the while, Saverio rubs soothing circles over my wrist with his thumb, but I see the caress for what it is. It's not designed to bring me comfort as I sell my soul and commit an unspeakable crime. It's a warning, straight and simple. He can crush my bones by simply closing his fingers.

When the ordeal is finally over, I'm exhausted. Keeping up a pretense is harder work than I thought. Lying takes its toll.

The officer who showed me in opens the door and stands aside for us to exit. He shoots Saverio a condescending grin without acknowledging me.

Ms. Price and the female officer are still in the reception area outside the office. They lift their heads when we approach, their gazes glued to Saverio's face. It's one of those faces that attracts attention. I suppose in his line of work, a face like that must be an occupational hazard. There's no chance of slipping unnoticed in or out anywhere.

He heads straight for Ms. Price and says in a no-nonsense manner, "I'm taking Anya home." Intertwining our fingers, he continues, "In her condition, she shouldn't be here."

"What condition?" Ms. Price asks, narrowing her eyes on me.

Shit.

I tug on Saverio's hand, trying to catch his attention, but before I can stop him, he blurts out, "Why, she's pregnant."

Ms. Price pulls her eyebrows up to her hairline, but she doesn't say a word. She purses her lips and stares after us as he swiftly pulls me by the hand toward the hallway.

Surprisingly, no one stops us. I suppose there won't be any work done today.

Zack wears a surprised expression when I tell him goodbye. He must be wondering who Saverio is, especially since Saverio is gripping my hand in an unmistakably possessive hold. I never mentioned a boyfriend to anyone at work, but then again, there are plenty of things I haven't told them. I keep many aspects of my life secret.

Once we're in the street, I untangle my fingers from Saverio's and take two steps away. "How could you?"

He observes me with a neutral expression. "How could I what?"

"Tell them," I say, pinning my arms at my sides.

"Tell them what?"

"That I'm pregnant."

He raises a brow. "You didn't tell them you were pregnant?"

No, and yes, that was wrong. Unable to admit that I'm that person, a deceptive employee who abused my employer's trust, I spin around and try to escape, but I don't make it two steps before his fingers curl around my bicep.

He flings me around to face him. "Why didn't you tell them?"

I blink, trying to come up with an excuse, but nothing can justify my behavior.

"They should know." He loosens his hold, but he doesn't let me go. "You'll need time off for medical checkups, and later, you'll go on maternity leave."

I jerk my arm from his grasp. "Don't lecture me on how to run my life."

"Lecture you?" He gives me a baffled look. "These are simple logistics. You shouldn't take these arrangements so lightly. Your health is at stake."

"There you go again, carrying on about my health, talking as if you care." My voice rises in volume. "I just want you to leave me alone."

He's on top of me in a wink, pulling me close to his chest, smothering me in the woolly fabric of his jacket and the expensive smell of his spicy cologne.

"That's not going to happen, my treasure," he whispers in a low and dark voice in my ear. "You're stuck with me, whether you like it or not." His deep timbre washes over my senses, sending goosebumps over my skin, but it's the underlying warning in his words more than the raspy quality of his baritone resonance that makes me shiver. "I suggest you get used to the idea."

As suddenly as he grabbed me, he lets me go. The minute I'm free, I backtrack and gulp in a lungful of air.

He's dangerous, this man, so much more than just on a physical level. He scares me, and not only because of his strength. I'm terrified of the power he holds over me.

We simply stand there and look at each other, measuring one another as the pedestrians part around us and carry on without paying us attention. Despite the hundreds of people surrounding me, I've never felt more isolated or vulnerable.

I take another step back, the urge to flee pumping adrenaline through my veins.

He's quick to close the distance between us, not allowing me space. "Do you understand me?"

I stare up at his face, fearing and hating him at the same time.

"Come on," he says, cupping my cheek. "You'll give people the wrong idea if you look at me with so much animosity. I'm sure you can find it in you to like me if you try."

"Like you?" I stammer, jerking my face away. "Are you out of your mind? You were going to kill me. If I weren't your alibi, I'd be on the bottom of the river with a stone tied around my ankle."

"No," he says softly, giving me a long, intense look. "A river is too sloppy. It's too easy for a rope to deteriorate or to get chomped through by fish. There's always the risk of a body surfacing. Besides, a water burial isn't pretty. If I were going to kill you, I'd bury you in the woods near a beautiful site with flowers, somewhere on a hill overlooking the sea." Taking a strand of my hair, he rubs it between his fingers. "I'd plant thorn bushes on your grave so that wild animals couldn't dig up your body and eat your bones." Something dark passes over his features. "I think I'd visit that place often." Saying more to himself than to me, he continues, "Yes, I don't think I would've been able to stay away."

I gape at him in horror, unable to believe my ears.

"But I'm not going to kill you." He releases the lock of hair he's been twisting around his finger, tilting his head to study the curl that bounces back like a spring. "As long as you behave, you have nothing to fear."

Nothing to fear? No statement can be further from the truth.

"Now," he says, taking my hand and fixing me with that intense gaze that's gone from dangerous to deviant in the blink of an eye. "You owe me an answer. Do you understand how this is going to work, tesoro ?"

Frightened out of my wits and unable to do anything else, I nod.

"Good." He traces my jaw with a thumb. "Let's get you home."

Not waiting for my compliance, he turns me in the in the direction of my apartment building and drags me along with him.

"How did you know?" I ask.

He looks down at me with the same indulgent smile of earlier. "Know what?"

"When the police were going to question me."

"That's how these investigations work."

"But you arrived just at the right time." Then it hits me. "You have a spy in the force." I swallow hard before choking out, "Someone there works for you."

He only continues to smile, answering my question with his silence.

Just how powerful is he?

In front of my building, he stops to face me. "That brings up an unpleasant matter, but we'll discuss it inside."

My pulse spikes when he unlocks the exterior door. I don't want him to come inside, but I can't stop him from doing so.

In the lobby, we're met by a tearful Livy who's on her way out. She tells us she learned the news of Mr. Lewis's murder from his widow. We exchange a few words, Saverio doing most of the talking. He consoles her and asks if she needs anything before excusing us, saying that I need to rest. This time, he refrains from mentioning that I'm pregnant.

We take the stairs to my floor with Saverio's hand wrapped firmly around my elbow. He unlocks my door with his own key and steers me inside before locking it behind him. When he takes off his jacket and unbuttons the cuffs of his sleeves, I really get scared. There's something about the look in his eyes that seems too intense. The glint that flickers in their depths seems too wicked. Too eager.

I lick my dry lips. "What are you doing?"

"We're going to discuss that matter I neglected," he says, advancing on me.

I crane my neck to look at him, refusing to flee. He knows I'm terrified. I'm not going to give him the pleasure of confirming it. "What matter?"

He folds back his shirt sleeve. "What did I say about talking to the police?"

I swallow again, taking in the beautiful lines of his face. "To call you."

"That's right," he drawls, folding back the other sleeve to expose a strong forearm dusted with dark hair and embossed with thick veins. "Did you call me?"

"I–I didn't think."

"What were you going to tell them, Anya?"

"Nothing, I swear."

"I warned you," he says with a tsk of his tongue. "Your bad. It's a lesson I'm going to have to teach you."

He said it as if he was going to regret it, but he's lying. Excitement sparks in the frosty blue of his eyes.

"Sav," I say, my voice shaky and my tone pleading.

His lips quirk. "Now it's Sav, is it?"

I have no idea what he has in store for me, but I know I'm not going to like it. "I'm sorry I didn't call you."

"No, tesoro , you're not." He adds in a gravelly, seductive tone, "But you will be."

Tears of fear and frustration prick at the back of my eyes. "What the hell do you want from me?"

Walking me backward toward the kitchen, he says, "I want you to bend over the table and hold on real tight."