Page 43 of Filthy Little Regrets (Princes of NYC #2)

twenty-seven

CASSIA

Mace has been strangely distant ever since the day I brought him lunch.

He’s kept his promise. At the end of every night, we end up on the couch, watching a show, but the bed is cold every morning when I wake up.

He hasn’t even tried to have sex with me.

Although I know it’s wrong to feel entitled to the orgasms he was giving me, I’m starting to wonder if I’m being punished for real.

Paranoia settles between my shoulder blades as I work. Tony is flipping through one of the magazines in Orion’s seating area, his attention occasionally straying to me. Every glance has my muscles tightening.

Do they know what I’ve done?

I stare at the sentence I’ve been working on for the last ten minutes and blow out a hard breath.

This report for Mei needs to be done today.

Her divorce proceedings are in a few days, and the evidence gathered will help her get a fair share.

Personally, I think she deserves everything, but that’ll never happen.

It was smart of her to think ahead, to plan to destroy him once the marriage is over, when he’s already facing the consequences of his own actions.

The bell on the door alerts me to a customer’s arrival. Sighing, I quickly finish the paragraph I’d been writing. I stand, smile turned on for the customer, and look at none other than Paige motherfucking Smith. The FBI agent clocks Tony with a very ladylike nod of her head before facing me.

Though she narrows her eyes in warning, her tone is soft when she speaks. “I know you said it might take a while, but I was hoping you had an update on my case?”

Tony shifts in his seat, eyes shifting to her ass, eyebrows raising in appreciation.

Come on, Tony! Can’t you spot a fed when you see one?

“Sure.” Anxiety bangs around inside my chest. Breathing deep, I lock my computer and grab the folder I’ve been keeping from my drawer.

Somehow, Paige always shows up while Orion is out, but in case he was ever here when she arrived, I knew it would need to look like a legit client interaction to keep him unaware.

My own customer base is small, practically non-existent, but I could write it off as someone I’ve worked with on the darknet.

“Right this way.” I lead the way to the small conference room with a window that showcases the rest of the office. Tony’s eyes meet mine, and I grin, rolling my eyes like this is annoying.

Shaking his head, he goes back to scrolling on his phone.

Paige closes the door. I stand at one side of the circular table and she stands at the other. Nerves flutter in my belly, and I count my exhale before breathing in again. Our gazes hold for a few seconds, then she sighs and glances out of the conference room, noting our audience .

“Shall we sit?” She slides her chair out and takes her seat.

Reluctance lingering in my chest like a cold, I join her. “Have you heard from Ian?”

“No.”

“Is he okay?”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” she says, drumming her fingers on the table. “Well, what do you have for me?”

Unease settles in my gut, but I drop the questions about Ian and open the folder.

The sooner she’s gone, the better. The Trojan I planted has been collecting data for almost a week.

In that time, Rex Technologies has had an obnoxious number of business transactions.

A few acquisitions finalized, and some board changes.

“Last week, there was a quarterly board meeting.” I slide a copy of the meeting minutes that one of the company assistants distributed.

Paige scans the notes, then drops the paper onto the table. “That’s it?”

“There was a vote,” I tell her, looking at my own copy. “They decided what company to target next too. Sigma Cyber Solutions. From what I could find, Sigma is owned by a sketchy man named Todd, who has a restraining order?—”

“This is all fascinating, but none of this has anything to do with the mafia.”

Right. I knew she wouldn’t care about Todd, but I figured I’d show her I’m trying to get something. “I haven’t seen or heard anything about them,” I admit.

“Mace is meeting with Vito in a few days.”

I frown. “How do you know that?”

She lifts an eyebrow. “You don’t think you’re my only source, do you?”

Okay, you condescending bitch. “If you have other sources with better intel, why do you need me? ”

“Full coverage.” Paige looks at the folder. “What else did you find?”

“Just text messages that aren’t important. I have his work and personal calendar for the next month printed out...” And it apparently doesn’t include the meeting with the mafia. “Other than that, I have his bank account details.”

She tilts her head. “I didn’t ask you for that.”

“I thought maybe there’d be a paper trail.”

“There’s not,” she informs me.

“I realized that.” I sigh. “Listen, I’ve planted spyware on his computer and his phone. Outside of waltzing into Vito’s house with Mace, I don’t know how to find the evidence you need.”

She hums. “Maybe you should give that a try.”

“That sounds like a good way to get shot,” I say with a dry laugh. Vito already threatened to kill me once.

“Listen, I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, but if you can’t find what I need on Mace’s computers, try Darius. Between the two of them, there’ll be something of interest.”

That would mean another visit to Rex Technologies, which may be hard to do with Mace all but avoiding me. There’s no way I’m telling Agent Smith I’m worried Mace might be on my trail. With no other choice but to go along, I exhale and nod. “Yeah, okay. I can do that.”

She nods. “Good. I’m on assignment for the next month, but you have my number. If you don’t have something by the time I’m back...you know what I’ll have to do.”

I scowl. “You catch more flies with honey.”

“They still die in vinegar.” She lifts a shoulder and stands. “Text me if you find something of immediate interest. Otherwise, I’ll see you in a month. Walk me out so your little friend out there doesn’t get suspicious.”

Fighting to keep the glare off my face, I gather the paperwork, place it back in the folder, and lead her out of the conference room.

“Oh, I can’t thank you enough,” she says as we emerge. I’ll give it to her—her acting is amazing, but the syrupy tone and suburban mom act grates along my skin. Paige places a hand on my arm. “You’re an angel.”

My smile is all teeth and mostly a grimace. “I’m here to help.”

She smirks at me, twinkles her fingers at Tony, and leaves.

I release a huff and head to my desk, putting the folder back in the drawer and shutting it with more force than necessary.

“You okay, Red?”

Get it together, Cass. Steadying myself, I force a pleasant expression and nod. “Yeah, she was a lot.”

“Nice ass, though.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Ew, Tony.”

He shrugs. “What? I’m a man. She’s hot.”

If only he knew. I shake my head and get back to the report of Mei, fueling all my frustration into cataloging every bit of evidence of infidelity.

This day sucks.

More on edge than usual, I stomp up the steps of Mace’s mini mansion, ignoring Tony’s I’ll see you tomorrow and slam the door closed as soon as I’m inside. The house is warm and full of mouthwatering scents that draw me to the kitchen. Chef.

She’s not here often, but when she is, we always eat better. I’ve had more steak in the last few weeks than I have in the last year, and I even tried squid.

Chef glances up from the stove, taking me in with an unimpressed once-over. “Why are you angry?”

I bristle, take a seat at the island, and set my purse to the side. “I’m not.”

She chuckles. “Uh-huh. There’s a line between your eyebrows that tells another story.”

Reaching up, I smooth my finger over the wrinkle, hating that she’s right, and relax my facial muscles.

“Rough day?”

“Something like that.” The stove has a few pans, a pot of boiling water, and another pot filled with what appears to be tomato sauce. “What are you making?”

Chef moves to a cutting board and quickly dices some yellow onion. “Classic Bolognese and homemade breadsticks.”

That’s what smells so good. My gaze strays to the oven and the pan full of baking garlic- and butter-coated dough. “Do you need help?”

She gives me a look. “Do you need help with your work?”

“Okay, point taken.” Though maybe I do need help, since I can’t seem to find incriminating evidence against Mace. I release a long, drawn-out sigh.

“All that bad energy will make my food taste bad.” She leaves the onions, grabs a glass of wine, fills it, and places it in front of me. “Shoo, shoo.” She dismisses me with a wave of her hand .

“My feelings are hurt, Cheffy. I thought we were friends.”

She rolls her eyes and points toward the door. “Out.”

Her lack of concern for how I’ll react makes me grin. At least I’m not the wife that terrorizes the staff. I slide out of the barstool, sipping my wine and heading to change for a quick swim. That’ll help me reset.

The knot of tension between my shoulder blades dissipates the harder I push my body. I’m a glass of wine down and thirty minutes into my laps when Mace appears. I stop halfway across the pool and hold his gaze. He stands on the side of the pool where I had placed my things, watching me tread water.

His expression is hard to read. “Come on, it’s time to eat.”

I narrow my eyes. A week of him being distant, and he expects me to follow his demands? He can dine alone. I’ll make a plate once he’s done. Grabbing my towel, he holds it open, eyes shimmering in challenge.

“Come.”

The command bursts along my skin, prickling over me like a thousand needles.

“No.” I turn, cutting through the water. Pulling myself out of the pool, I grab a towel from the table near the door and cast a glare in his direction. “Go fuck yourself, Mace.”

He smirks. “Think about what’s going to happen if you leave this room without me.”