Reverse Trap

I creep down the stairs toward the door, cameras clutched in my palm as I open it slowly.

It’s an office. His office. Empty and dark. The windows are even closed. I look forward and sideways: no cameras in sight.

The bastard is probably too arrogant to assume anyone can infiltrate his home.

I don’t let myself linger. I go behind his desk and place the first camera underneath it with the mic facing out. The adhesive holds immediately.

 

One down.

I peek through the doorway and shift back inside when I hear something rattle.

Dear blessed Lord. I hold my breath, making sure to remain well hidden, with my gun in hand

 

I count to fifteen and no footsteps echo. I peep through, the bedroom remains empty.

Well. That could've been bloody. I step out and tiptoe back to the bedroom.

I position the second camera behind his bedside lamp, angled to capture the bed and the room’s main entrance.

 

Second Confirmed. Mic on.

 

Third one goes back in my purse. If I’m lucky, I’ll find somewhere more valuable to place it later: a safe room, a weapons cache. Something that will give Shadow the leverage we need.

I exhale. Feeling achieved. Way to go you fucking mafia.

 

I should call Marcus.

I search for my phone but can’t find it.

He probably has it. I scoff. It’s clean as a grave thanks to Vaughn’s tech knowledge. Least of my worries, I’ll find a way to reach Marcus later.

A smile spreads across my face, proud of myself. We’ll see everything through these feeds: meetings, phone calls, vulnerabilities.

The reality settles in: After six years, I’m inside his sanctuary. Inside the home of the man who killed my parents and younger brother and I’m finally, finally making progress.

 

I actually do a small victory dance toward the bathroom… then I stop cold.

All my products are lined up on the counter. My shampoo. My specific Portland body wash. My toothbrush. Even my facial cleanser in the exact brand I use.

My heart pounds. How does he have all these?

I pick up the candle from the nightstand, examining it closely. The scent is exact: bergamot and vanilla in the precise ratio my father taught me.

I make these in small batches, never more than three at a time.

 

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩

But I could’ve sworn I woke up to two.

My hands start shaking again.

Was my candle stolen? By Carlos?

 

No. Can’t be. Before last night, we’d never met. I’ve spent four years stalking his every movements. I would’ve known if he’d burgled my home.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥.

Thanks, subconscious!

 

Well, if not me, Marcus, Henry, or Vaughn would’ve known. Moreover, I’d concluded I miscounted from exhaustion that week.

 

But how did he…?

Chills rush through me and I suddenly feel exposed in this house.

'Stop. You’re being paranoid.'

I look through the rest.

No clothes, though. Just his shirt from last night, boxer that might be clean.

I’m not sniffing to find out.

 

Twenty minutes later, I emerge drowning in his clothes. The shirt hangs to mid-thigh and I head towards him.

Carlos sits at a small table positioned near the floor-to-ceiling windows. A chessboard waits on the table with Toast, coffee and water

 

“You can’t be serious. It’s not even six AM.”

“We had a deal. But you passed out.”

His hand is bandaged. White gauze wrapped around his palm.

 

The glass.

“Deal’s over. I passed out and lost. In a nutshell, I’m not your PA.”I rush out

'𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘦𝘹 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦'

 

I exhale, ignoring that voice in me.

I scan his Living room quickly. No sign of anyone except the peppery, woody scent that I’m beginning to recognize as distinctly Carlos.

 

We’re alone. I’m trapped if he becomes a threat.

“You sabotaged the game.”

He counters, nudging his head for me to sit.

“I simply… LOST.”

I clarify as I take my seat across from him. He says nothing as he pushes the toasts closer to me.

At least, he's not just a cold blooded murderer, he cares about feeding his guest.

“How did you get my candle?” The question comes out sharper than intended.

 

“I had someone pick it up.”

Eyes fixed on me, he moves his knight without looking at the board,

“The candle is custom-made. Not available retail.” My voice is steady, but my pulse isn’t. Just like last night, I make a mindless move.

He glares at me. I shrug my shoulders.

 

“Then I guess it’s not that special.”

His nonchalance is more unsettling than anger. He either broke into my apartment or knows more about me than he should.

Neither is good.

We continue playing but my mind isn’t here. It’s high time I get cameras for my apartment. I don’t care what Marcus says.

 

We play. I lose pieces carelessly while he remains calm, composed. Far better than last night.

“You must be very trusting, bringing a stranger home.” He chuckles at my words and pauses his pawn mid-air.

 

I grab a piece of toast and eat.

“You intend to hurt me, pretty doll?”

He drawls it out, like the thought is laughable.

Cocky bastard.

I take a sip of coffee before answering. Exactly as I like it.. Creamy and sugary, I smile with a satisfied nod

 

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨. Well fuck. The smile fade immediately

 

“I can try.”

He squints his eyes, not hiding the smile that map his face as he nods

The bastard has dimple.

"Perfect"

Is all he says while his eyes travel down my body slowly, lingering on my visible nipples through the thin fabric.

 

I drop my half-eaten toast and match his stare, taking him in: Tank top showing muscled arms. Hair down: longer than a modern man’s, shorter than rebellion would allow.

His gaze moves between my lips and chest. He licks his lip again and pick up my half-eaten toast then leans back. Spreading his legs wider and he bites exactly where my mouth was.

 

My lips part unwillingly and my breath hitches as I watch him chew.

 

Don’t look at his thighs, Thalia. I don't.

He quirks an eyebrow, his gaze returning to my visible nipples.

Each chew hammers in my chest as I watch him, until he takes a sip of coffee.

 

I blink, finally regaining my sanity enough to call him out

“It’s rude to stare.”

“You’re wearing my shirt.”

“You didn’t give me another option.”

He licks his lips, eyes on my chest as he play.

“You’re naked underneath my shirt.”

He retorts, enunciating each word and I roll my eyes.

“Again...you didn’t give me two options.”

“Hmmmmm.”

Is all he says as we return to the game.

 

Carlos’s eyes never left my body and I stopoed being bothered.

He’s a Don who does what he wishes.

I’m glad he didn’t kill me.

 

It’s past seven when I finally win. Now he’s handing me his bag, rattling off his schedule: warehouse, shipments, meetings,

I ignore all, as we wait for the elevator.

 

“What am I expected to do at this job?”

“Be you.”

I snort.

“If I’ve heard of ways to get killed quickly, it’s by being yourself.”

He respond with a chuckle

“Think ahead. Be discreet. Intelligent. Comfortable around the men and woman I meet.”

Woman. Singular. Not women.

Maybe that’s why he needs a female PA.

"And most importantly, don't let your mouth get you in trouble"

I don't dignify that with an answer

 

“What’s my pay?”

“Enough to ensure you never need money again.”

“Like a billion dollars?”

“Yes.”

Of course he has that kind of money.

“Can I have my phone now?”

“As my PA, it’s being checked for security”

“As my PA, it’s being checked for security. You’ll get it back later,” I mimic under my breath. Finishing the response I've heard twice.

His mouth twitches as he presses his car key.

Surprise: he exchanged the color of his soul for his car. It's white. No driver.

I slide in, hyperaware I haven’t contacted my team since last night. My smartwatch is gone too.

 

Carlos starts the engine.

“Where are we going?”

“Your apartment.”

 

My head whips toward him as I grab his wrist with force that could’ve caused an accident.

 

"NO" My chest beats loud with those two letters. All my surveillance of him is just a door away. Every plans. Four years of intel hidden behind a false panel. My TV connects to field cameras. If he walks in, goes to the wrong room, presses my TV remote…Six years of work. Gone.

I grip his wrist and his face harden.