CHAPTER 3

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 heads of departments," he hands me a sheet of paper. "Giovanni should have handled this, but I decided to do this myself. You should already have the files on most of these."

"Yeah, I do," a small smile tugs at my lips. When Giovanni handed me the box load of files, everything was in such a mess. I wonder how he even put the names together.

"Alright, I believe you have coordinated the files I asked for." He asks, handing me his laptop with a raise of his brows. Is he testing me?

"Yes, I did." In very little time, but I fucking did. I can't be found wanting. I take the laptop from his hands. Our fingers brush for a second, and I snatch my hand away immediately.

He plants himself in the seat opposite mine across the dining table as I start working on sending the emails.

"So why don't I have my own laptop, if I may ask? I know the working conditions here," I ask without sparing him a glance.

"Well, my last PA was... temperamental, and let's just say the devices didn't survive."

"Or they couldn't survive you," I mutter under my breath. I would bet all my money on the fact that he must have worked his last PA to the bone marrow. His reputation precedes him.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, sir." I continue working on sending the emails.

His silence pulls me to lift my eyes and meet his. He's pissed.

I swallow hard. I can't lose this job, not yet.

"I'm sorry, sir." I glance down and continue working, and I feel his icy gaze shift from my face as he stands up and leaves me to my work.

I don't see him again until I finish with the files and emails. After knocking on the door to his office where he had disappeared and not hearing anything, I leave his laptop on the dining table.

~

The burner phone sits like a pretty prize in my wardrobe. I haven't had time to set up enough to find a place to hide it, so my wardrobe has to be enough. For now.

As soon as the phone comes on, it rings. Are those idiots watching me?

"Are you guys watching me?" I blurt out immediately, not waiting for my partner on the other side of the phone to speak.

"Hello, Zarah," he croons my real name like a melody. One I hate to hear.

I move to the window of my room overlooking the street. A shadow moves in the dark alley on the other side.

"Don't you fucking call me by my name." I grit my teeth, rage already simmering in my veins. I'm not really angry at him. I'm just angry. Everything makes me angry now.

"It's just the two of us, so no need to be so aggressive."

"What now? You can't keep calling me like this. I have to be the one to call you. Or have you forgotten how it works?"

"Of course not, love."

"Call me love again, and the next time we have the pleasure of meeting, I will remove your mask and cut your fucking tongue out."

"Exactly what I..." he hesitates before continuing, "like about you."

Good thing he knows not to use the word 'love.'

"What is it? I don't have all night," I sigh, exasperated.

"We need you to test the plan."

"What do you mean, 'test the plan'?"

"Do something to him. You're the genius."

"Exactly. I'm the genius, so the genius is going to tell you that it's too early.

It's just my first day at work. He doesn't even know me fully yet."

"Well, my boss needs results. Feedback. He needs you to do something."

"You tell your boss that I'm not his lackey or his hitman. I am doing this of my own free will, and I will—"

"And you remember that we put you there, we made you Chelsea Shane, and we can rip that away from you just as easily."

I let out a long breath before speaking. "Oh, my foolish, foolish Ilya." I hear him gasp on the other side. He probably thought I didn't know who he was, but I'd be damned to be working with a masked man and not know his name and face.

"You tell your boss—and don't mince my words—that I am doing this of my own free will, in my own time, and I will take that precious time to enjoy ripping Dante Romano limb from limb.

And tell him that these things take time. I don't care if you have to explain it to him like a fucking toddler. If he wants to do it his way, he can just do it himself and see how that goes."

Ilya just exhales on the other side.

"Now, if you don't want me to cut all communication, do me a favour and don't call me if I don't call you, and certainly don't rush me.

And if I catch you spying on me again, I will gouge your eyes out." His breath hitches, and I know he remembers—the first day he met me.

He had snuck in to recruit me on their little revenge mission after my father was murdered, and I beat the hell out of him before he decided to explain why he was stalking me.

I should have removed his mask then and saved myself the trouble of having to dig around to find out who he was. That took a long minute.

"Just," Ilya starts, "remember that he killed your father. Brutally at that."

"I never forget." I put the phone down and turn it off.