Page 56 of Filthy Little Regrets (Princes of NYC #2)

thirty-four

CASSIA

Sneaking around Mace’s parents’ house is.

..weird, but we already searched the office while Darius was out at some business meeting.

Mace went into town to run interference, keeping his dad preoccupied while I dig through the office, Darius’s personal safes, searching for any incriminating evidence.

Mace found a transaction in his dad’s bank account that raised some red flags.

Darius purchased a large shipping line. Neither of us knows why Rex Technologies would need one.

So, here I am, digging through Darius’s home office.

There are benefits to Mace being a tech wizard and CTO of Rex.

He knows how to bypass the various security mechanisms.

After a whole lot of frantic reading and searching, I leave the desk how I found it, and as quietly as I can, I head to the primary suite, checking for any of the staff, but Mace said only the cleaning staff was in today. Still, the possibility of being caught sends my pulse into a frenzy.

With blood rushing through my ears in a dull roar, I quickly dip inside Darius and Elaine’s room, shutting the door and leaning against it.

I take a steadying breath and glance around.

The safe is in the walk-in closet. A light on the camera in the corner blinks, but Mace assured me he disabled them.

My phone buzzes, and I tug it out of my pocket.

MACE

He’s not here. Change of plans. Go to our house.

The safe is right here. I’ll check that and then leave.

Two minutes. Any longer than that, and you need to leave, you hear me?

Yes.

I lock the phone and take a breath. I’ll have to be quick.

Chest fluttering, I lock the door, even though I know it won’t really save me if I’m caught.

Rushing into the walk-in, I shove the clothes apart and drop to the soft carpet.

The safe operates on a biometric lock, but there’s also a keypad.

I quickly key in the ten-digit bypass code that’s mainly used for when someone passes and the estate needs to get into the safe.

The lock turns green and the door pops open. Heart slamming against my rib cage, I yank it open and riffle through it. A matte black handgun with P226 laser etched into the side. Bars of gold. Big wads of cash from other countries. Some jewels. And a fat stack of paperwork.

Bingo.

There are a few unsigned contracts for other things. I set those aside and scan through the rest of the documents. Contracts for shipping containers, barge operations, and a fleet of semitrucks that are all ready to be signed.

What the hell does Darius need his own shipping company for?

With limited time, I take pictures of it all and put everything back. Though it might be useless, there could be something here. I close the safe, but as I’m rising from the floor, the doorknob rattles.

Fuck.

“What the hell?” Darius growls. He tries the door again, banging on it when it doesn’t budge. “Fucking maid.”

I tilt my head and listen to him storm off.

Heart in my throat, I run for the door, but the sound of voices carrying toward me has me spinning around.

My gaze jumps around the room. There’s no way to hide under the bed.

The frame is a solid piece of wood. I consider the en suite, but what if he wants a shower?

Fuck, fuck, fuck .

Limbs shaking, I suck in deep breaths to try and keep it together.

What do I do? What do I do? My eyes land on the closet, which is probably the worst option, but it’s the only place that might provide cover.

I scurry into it, slipping behind Elaine’s gowns, placing my palm on my chest and fighting to calm my breath.

My phone vibrates. I yank it out of my pocket and turn it off. There’s no way I’m letting the alerts get me caught.

“I’m so sorry,” a staff member says right outside the door. “I’m not sure what happened.”

Darius doesn’t respond. The asshole. She’s probably panicking about what her crew did wrong. My pulse is thundering in my ears, but I keep still, breathing deep and slow, hoping I can fucking pull this off.

The door opens. My muscles tense.

“Do you need anything else, sir?”

“No, get the fuck out of here.”

What a dick .

“Let us know if you need anything.” The maid departs with quick, soft footsteps .

The door snicks shut. This silence is loud. It roars in my ears. Drums in my chest. Hurts my skin. My breaths are close to out of control, but I pinch my eyes shut and breathe in again, desperately trying to calm it.

Darius grumbles, storming into the closet.

Fuck me. I cover my mouth with my hands and take little sips of air, but my lungs are tightening, the oxygen growing so heavy it’s painful.

Get it fucking together. Calm the fuck down.

You’re okay. You’re okay. It’s fine. I repeat those words over and over, but panic doesn’t listen to reason.

Though I can’t see anything, I hear Darius’s clothes brushing together. Maybe he’s simply changing. Freshening up. He’ll be gone soon. It’ll be fine.

“There you fucking are,” he says.

My stomach drops. Widening my eyes, I press into the wall, shrinking back, even though there’s nowhere else to hide.

“I’ve been calling you for hours,” Darius snaps. “This deal needs to be done tonight. I’m sick of waiting.”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, and when they do, it’s all I can do to keep from weeping in relief.

He’s on the phone. He hasn’t found me. Heart thudding, I stay as quiet as possible until he storms out, slams the closet door and the bedroom door, then I wait some more before creeping out.

With trembling hands, I turn on my phone. A dozen messages fly across the screen as soon as it’s powered up. I call my husband, palm pressed to my chest like that would slow my racing heart.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I’m okay. He came in, changed, then was on the phone with someone. There’s a deal tonight.”

“I don’t trust him. Go home. This was a terrible idea. ”

I sigh. “I agree, Mace. I did get some pictures of the contracts, but we can look at that when you’re home.”

“I’m twenty away because of traffic. Are you home?”

Biting back a grin, I peek out of the bedroom and slip out when the coast is clear. “You know, I may be wrong, but I feel like you want me to go home,” I whisper.

“Cassia,” he warns, not at all amused.

“Okay, okay. I’m going. I’ll see you soon.”