Page 19 of His Lair
“No. And don’t mention this to anyone,” he says.
“I won’t.” I bring the cup to my mouth again. “Just out of curiosity, how much longer is this job going to have me in Vegas?”
“I have no idea. Why? You getting bored?”
“A little.” I shrug.
“So play with your new friend more. I’m sure he won’t complain,” Emmanuel tells me.
“He likes someone who doesn’t exist. He doesn’t even know me.” I know the minute Sammie finds out who I really am, he’s going to lose interest. He likes the innocence that doesn’t exist in my everyday life.
“Lailani, have fun. But not too much fun. I need you to be focused on the job.”
“Are you looking for dirt on your friends?” I ask.
“No, should I be?”
“Nope, just trying to figure out what it is you’re worried about here,” I say.
“I told you. Someone is making moves. I want to make sure I stay on top of that. Remember, while she’s in town, Evie’s safety is number-one priority.”
“I can’t just follow her around.”
“No, but you can tell me when she comes and goes from the Royal. And after she leaves, I want to know when she returns,” he says.
“Okay.” I nod again.
Emmanuel stands from the sofa. “Thank you. Make sure that whatever this thing is between you and Sammie, it doesn’t interfere with the job.”
I scoff. “I’m not going to do something stupid like fall in love with the guy.”
“You might not, but he sure as fuck will,” Emmanuel grunts.
“Until he knows who I really am. Once he finds out I’ve been lying to him all these months, do you really think he’ll want me around?”
“Yes,” Emmanuel answers without hesitating. “Because love makes people do dumb shit. Shit they shouldn’t do.” Then he turns around and walks out of my apartment.
Well, I don’t plan on ever falling in love. I’ve seen what that did to my dad. When my mom was killed, my father became a different person. It was as if her killer took both my parents. Ina way, I guess he did. I was ten years old when I lost my mother. The first thing my father did was put a gun in my hand. It’s because of her death that I am who I am today. My father made sure I had the skills to be on the right side of the barrel. The living, breathing side.
Thinking of my dad makes me nostalgic. I miss him. It’s been a year since I’ve seen him. I spoke to him a few months ago. We have a very casual relationship. He knows what I do for a living, and he doesn’t exactly approve. Even though he’s the one who pushed me in this direction in the first place.
The thought of picking up the phone and calling him crosses my mind. I quickly dispel the idea. Instead, I head for my bathroom. I need to shower and then I plan on finding out everything I can about the girl who has Emmanuel’s panties all twisted in a bunch.
After thirty minutes of digging online, I don’t come up with much about Charlotte’s friend. What I did find is that she owns a little boutique in the small southern town where she resides. I can’t find anything to suggest she’s been in any relationships. There are no mentions of any siblings and the only parent listed on her birth certificate is her mother.
She’s active on social media, but most of her posts are of the dresses in her store or her with her friends. Whoever she is, I don’t envy her having gained the attention of a madman.
As if on cue, the doorbell rings. I stand, close my laptop, and walk over to the door, opening it when I notice a delivery man on the other side.
“Pizza for Ms. Miller,” he says, handing me a box.
“Um, I didn’t order that,” I tell him.
“It’s a gift, from Mr. Russo,” the guy explains.
“Ah, thank you. Hold on, let me get you a tip.” I set the pizza box down on my hall table and go to reach for my bag.
“No need. It’s all sorted. Have a good day, Miss,” the guy says and then disappears back down the hall. I watch him for a moment before closing the door behind me.