CHAPTER NINE: ...where the damn bodies are buried!

HOPE

Assistant?

I blinked a few times, unsure if I had misheard him. My heart thudded as if it wanted to burst out and scream: You’re not a maid anymore!

But I didn’t let it show.

I nodded, calmly, carefully, like someone used to getting promotions in mafia mansions. “Understood.”

Truth was, I didn’t understand anything. Not why he trusted me, not why I felt seen in that moment, and definitely not why a small part of me felt… proud.

Ace slid the file toward me with a lazy flick of his fingers. “Talk to Clara. She’ll walk you through the remaining details.”

Of course. Clara.

The name alone gave me a mini tension headache.

I'd heard about her from the kitchen staff—how close she used to be to Ace, how she knew every part of the business, how she always wore stilettos like she was stomping on someone’s ego. She was now the HR manager, but before that, she was his assistant. And from what I'd heard, she didn’t step down—she was moved.

Great. I was walking into a lioness’ den with a raw steak labeled “replacement.”

*******

Ten minutes later, I stood outside Clara’s office at Mason Enterprise, gripping the file Ace had given me. The building buzzed with power. Cold steel, expensive scents, polished glass—it all screamed control. And Clara fit right in.

She was sitting behind her desk in a fitted navy blazer that probably cost more than my rent. Her long nails clicked across the keyboard until she slowly looked up, eyeing me like I’d tracked mud into her spotless life.

“Hope, is it?” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I heard Ace promoted you.”

“Yeah. Assistant.”

“Cute.”

I ignored the jab. “He said you’d show me the ropes. I’m to finish the protester case.”

Clara leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “That case is a little above your experience level. It's not scrubbing floors or slicing fruit, sweetheart.”

Okay. So, she was going to play it that way.

I placed the file firmly on her desk and leaned forward, keeping my tone even. “Boss said you’d help. Direct orders. Or should I go back and let him know you’re too busy?”

For a moment, I thought she might slap me with one of those expensive fake nails. But then her lips curved into something dangerously close to a smirk. “Fine. Let’s get you oriented, then.”

I didn’t trust her sudden cooperation, but I wasn’t stupid. I needed the information, and if I had to play along to get it, I would.

She stood, hips swaying with just a little too much intent as she moved to the whiteboard behind her. “This,” she said, tapping a chart, “is what’s been leaked. It’s not just blueprints—it’s client data, supplier intel, and prototype details. The Boss thinks it’s Cranes Electronics. I do too. But we need proof.”

I followed every word, nodding occasionally, asking strategic questions. I could feel her watching me, waiting for me to mess up, but I didn’t give her the satisfaction. I wasn’t here to impress Clara. I was here for Ace’s trust—and my mission.

Still, I couldn’t shake the way she looked at me when we wrapped up.

“You’re not his type,” she said suddenly, stacking folders.

I looked at her, confused. “Sorry?”

“Ace. He doesn’t go for… whatever this is.” Her gaze dropped to my work boots.

I smiled softly. “Good. I’m not here for that. I’m here for the job.”

Liar. Part of me whispered it. But the bigger part of me—the agent part—won the war.

I turned and walked out, clutching the file to my chest.

Clara might’ve been his past. But I was right in front of him now—and something told me this was only the beginning.

********

ACE

Bob stormed into my office like a man on fire—no knock, no courtesy, just his usual theatrics. He was fuming, jaw clenched, the veins on his neck bulging like he’d just come from a gym fight. I didn’t need a psychic to know why he was here.

“Tell me you’ve lost your mind,” he snapped, slamming the door shut behind him.

I didn’t even look up from the document in front of me. “Hello to you too, Bob.”

“I’m serious, Ace. What is she doing here?” He planted both hands on my desk, leaning over like I was supposed to shrink under the weight of his concern. “Hope. At the enterprise? What the hell are you thinking?”

I folded the paper I’d been reading and leaned back in my chair, calm as ever. “She’s my assistant now.”

He scoffed. “Your assistant? Are you forgetting where she came from? She was bought, Ace. Bought from an auction. A damn flesh auction. She knows everything. The Master’s House. The basement. Our transport system. Hell, she probably knows where the damn bodies are buried!”

My jaw tightened slightly, but I didn’t show it.

“She hasn’t said a word,” I replied coolly.

“And you think that’s a good thing?” Bob threw his hands up. “She’s quiet because she’s observing. Studying. Planning. She’s not some lost lamb, Ace. That girl is smart—dangerously so. She already knows too much about the Cosa Nostra, and you’re here promoting her like she’s just another intern?”

I stood slowly, letting my gaze settle on him. “You think I don’t know who I’m dealing with?”

Bob didn’t flinch, but he stepped back. “You’re thinking with something else, bro. You’re getting soft. And that’s not good for business. That’s not good for the family.”

I walked around the desk and stood in front of him. We were nearly the same height, but I always made sure he knew who was in charge. “Hope is an asset. I’m watching her, testing her, and before you say it—yes, I know the risk.”

Bob shook his head. “She knows about the Cosa Nostra, Ace. Not even Clara knows that. You made sure of it. And now this girl, who slept two doors down from the weapons vault at the Master’s house, is walking these halls with clearance?”

“She earned it,” I said simply.

“She’s a risk.”

“She’s mine to handle.”

He scoffed again, clearly holding back the urge to throw a punch at a wall. “I have every right to bring you back to your senses, you know. Especially with the old man too busy drowning in political power plays and secret meetings.”

“Father has no say unless it’s a matter of life or death,” I cut in. “And this? This isn’t his business anymore.”

“And if it becomes his business?”

“Then I’ll deal with it.”

Bob stepped back fully now, pacing a little before turning to face me again. “You think she can handle what’s coming?”

“She’ll have to.”

“And what if she talks?”

I paused, then said, “Then I’ll shut her up.”

Bob stared at me for a long moment, reading me like only someone raised under the same roof could.

“I hope you’re right,” he muttered. “Because if you’re wrong… we both know what has to happen.”

“I’m never wrong, Bob.”

He snorted. “You keep saying that. But I’ve seen you fall before. And I’ve seen what happens when you fall for someone.”

My jaw ticked, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“She stays,” I said, final and absolute. “She finishes the protester case. And if she proves herself… she stays longer.”

Bob didn’t argue. He just walked toward the door, but paused before leaving.

“You better pray she doesn’t pull a knife in the dark, Ace. Because if she does, I won’t wait for you to deal with it.”

Then he was gone.

I sat back in my chair, staring at the closed door.

She was a risk.

But one I was willing to take.