VENGEANCE AND LUST

CHELSEA It's weird that I miss the weight of my knives against the pockets of my trousers. But I don't dare bring them to an interview, unless I want to be arrested. I smooth my hands on the flaps of my suit, not tearing my eyes from the double glass doors before me. I won't delay, and I will answer normally. Like the name is mine. Hell, maybe if I say it long enough, it will actually become my name. "May I ask what you are doing here?" a strange voice yanks me out of my head. "Oh, I'm here for the job interview," I say, making my voice small and timid, like the image of an actual "Chelsea" I have in my head. I don't know this Chelsea in particular—the one whose identity I stole. But I knew others in high school and college, and most of them were straight-up blonde, soft babies. So stereotyping much? Definitely. The lady nods and walks back down the stairs, most likely back to her work. I puff a warm breath into my hands and sit straight. I can't be caught like that aga

CHELSEA The dark peephole glares back at me. I have a job to do. Taking a deep breath, I press the doorbell. The soft ring carries across the hallway. Moments later, Dante opens the door. Once again, my gaze meets his dark green eyes, and all I can think of is how I want to gouge those eyes out. No. That will have to wait. "Come in," he steps aside to let me in, his face more at ease, and for the first time, I notice his looks. And they were not wrong when they said the devil was the most beautiful angel in heaven. This man may actually be the devil, but he is devastatingly beautiful. Eyes like the forest caught in a stormy sky, and lips that— Fuck, focus. I step in past him into the warmth of his apartment, and he closes the door behind us. Shivers prickle my skin as he leads me to the dining table on the left side of the apartment, a half wall separating the kitchen from the dining area. He seems to be fond of half walls. "So this is the list of my most important emails and

CHELSEA That insufferable man. Ugh. I kick a small stone in my path a bit too hard, passing a rather dark alley. I'd chosen to walk all the way home after what happened at the office. Dante had yelled at me just before leaving work. What did I do to deserve that? Absolutely nothing. Or maybe something. But it was a little mistake compared to the threats he leveled at me. He would fire me and make my life miserable? We'll see who'll make whose life miserable. "Who does he even think he is to threaten me?" "Your boss." I step back, pushing a few people in my path at the voice in the alley. Damn, I said that out loud? I swivel, and my feet are already planted in a fighting stance before I recognize the voice of the person standing in the alley. Concealed by the shadow, only his feet are visible to me. But I'd know Ilya anywhere. "Why have you come?" My feet are cautiously treading the line between the darkness of the alley and the bright light illuminating the

CHELSEA The manager of the Armenian company. Why is he attacking me? I saw him during the meeting. I wouldn't forget that face so easily. He and the CEO had a similar look on their faces. The type of look I couldn't trust. "What the fuck?" I almost yell in obvious surprise at him. "I just want to talk." He raises his hands in the air, palms facing me. Talk? Reminds me of my first meeting with Ilya. What is it with these people and sneaking up on me to talk to me? "What do you want?" My guard is still up and my eyes track his every movement. "The contract is a facade," he speaks, almost too quickly. Pfft. Could've seen this coming from a mile away. "It's all fake. We wanna dupe him. Or at least try. You'll stop us." Dante. "Wait, what? I'll stop you?" He nods. "Well then, why are you telling me this? You do know I'll run and tell him, don't you? It's a horrible plan if you're telling me." I laugh. "No, you won't." "Because?" "Because you need him to trus

DANTE "The Armenians are playing a dangerous game." Giovanni paces around in my office, shaking his head. Since I told him of Chelsea's suspicions, which he actually confirmed, he's been fuming. It's quite funny, honestly, how the Armenians think they could double-cross us. "They need a reminder of who still owns the Mediterranean routes." He leans against my office table, facing me. "Those routes are in contest with the Russians," I remind him. We own the majority of the shipping routes there, but the Russians have become very daring and have started to contest them. "Besides, I don't think the Armenians would do this without expecting pushback if we found out." I stand, walking around the office, like we always did whenever a problem needed solving. Giovanni and I were like two sides of the same coin. Equal halves. "Which begs the question, at this crucial time in their organization—" "Why would they cross us?" I complete the question. "They wouldn't." Giovanni points out,