ONE
“Fucking talk radio,” I grumbled, a white puff of air leaving my mouth. There’d been no time to warm up the car because Luca decided to start the day the right way, and who was I to argue? I sacrificed warmth on the drive to work for hard and fast over the bathroom sink.
I made the right choice.
Forty was surprisingly empty as I cruised into the office. I took the exit ramp, singing along to the hits station blasting over the speakers. “I would—Son of a bitch!”
The brake pedal sunk to the floor. “No. No. No.” My little car slowed because I was going uphill, but there was no way it was stopping. With my heart racing, I reached for the emergency brake, knocking my hot coffee all over the passenger seat, and yanked that motherfucker up with all my might. The smell of burning rubber filled the car as I slid to a stop, smashing into the back of a black sports car.
Everything went still. Adrenaline pumped through me, and my hands trembled as I turned on my flashers. Flashbacks of the night I killed Dante Sr. and Luca had Pete cover it up by driving us into oncoming traffic slammed into me, threatening to send me into a full tailspin. Blinking back tears, I cringed as a middle-aged man wearing an expensive suit got out of his car and started yelling. On shaky legs, I stepped into the frosty January morning.
“What the fuck?” His red face contorted into a scowl as he inspected the damage.
“My brakes went out.” I gestured toward my destroyed compact.
“Fucking perfect.” He shook his head and lifted his phone to his ear. “Yeah, I’d like to report an accident.”
Going to the curb, I sighed—what a beautiful way to start a Friday.
* * *
Fucking Scott.
I glanced through the glass walls of the conference room to the lobby and then at the clock on my laptop. “Where is he?”
“He hasn’t answered my email, text, or phone call.” Miranda’s long red nails tapped away, organizing the notes she took during our afternoon meeting with people from The Oxford Hotel.
“Well, I have somewhere to be at 7:30, and I can’t be late. He’s got twenty minutes before I’m out of here.”
“You and Luca finally having a date night?” Ashley twisted her braids into a bun at the nape of her neck, somehow still looking fresh after the twelve-hour day we’d endured.
“Yeah. We both got home after eleven last night, and he decided enough was enough. No matter how exhausted I am, we’re doing the whole date thing.”
“It’s been a rough few weeks,” Axel mumbled as he sketched in a notebook.
Ashley and I shared a smile.
“Oh yeah? Lots of late nights?” Ashley bit her lip.
Axel looked up. “What?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head and pretended to get back to work. “Must be tough staying up past ten.”
Miranda snickered, covering her mouth with her hand. Despite being promoted, she still held back when we gave each other shit.
“I regret ever letting you spend the night.” Axel’s attention fell back to his drawing. “This is why I don’t have friends.”
“Come on.” I leaned back in my chair, folding my hands on my stomach. “You have to admit, we make your life more exciting.”
“Sure. Instead of having my nights to myself, I get to work late. Instead of weekends camping and enjoying the great outdoors, I get to work. Exciting.” His dark brown eyes held no humor. He was truly sick of us.
Ashley spun her chair toward him. “You knew what you were signing up for. And it’s not like you’re the only one.”
“Great. We can all be miserable together.” Axel closed his notebook and rested his hands on top of his head. “Since Scott’s an hour late, can we just call it a day?”
As the words left Axel’s mouth, Scott walked through the front door and past reception. He looked like the morning after—rumpled blond curls, his shirttails hanging out, and his slacks creased as if they’d been carelessly tossed.
I frowned at Ashley, and she pursed her lips, shaking her head. He passed the conference room, his face buried in his phone, not noticing the meeting he was delaying. I grabbed my nearly empty water bottle and tossed it at the glass. The soft thud startled Scott, and in a spectacular feat of uncoordinated flailing, the phone bounced from hand to hand until it hit the glass and then the polished concrete floor.