Page 4 of Watch Me Burn

THE WATCHER

T he espresso machine hums in the quiet break room. My fingers drum impatiently against the countertop, muscles tense, wishing I could scream.

At Blooms Consulting, appearances are everything, and being a well-dressed assistant with a latte in hand is as much a part of the uniform as the silk blouses and pencil skirts.

Not to mention I have to blend in order to keep this job and continue to build my friendship with Zoe, Aaron’s little sister.

Poor thing. If she only knew the monster she’s befriended.

But for now, I protect her fiercely.

Thankfully for her, I’m loyal. I love her to death, which means I’ll keep her safe from any asshole who tries to get in the way of her happiness.

I’m glad the boys took care of her parents when they did. I was already drawing up plans.

Only mine didn’t involve letting those fuckers walk away after everything they did to Zoe.

The machine finally shuts off, and just as I raise the cup to my lips, Zoe storms in.

Odd. She’s never here at this hour.

“Oh, hey Via. You’re here early.”

I plaster on my extra cheerful smile. “No...I’m normally here at this time. You’re early.”

She nods, smiling for a brief second before her shoulders sag, eyes dull, shadowed by exhaustion.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d get a head start today.”

“What’s wrong? Is it Dominik?” I hand her my cup and she downs it, then plops into one of the round tables.

I pull out a chair and sit across from her.

“No, Dominik’s great. It’s my brother.”

“Aaron?” I say his name like I don’t know exactly who she’s talking about. His name scrapes my nerves, igniting something darker beneath my skin.

It’s been days since my last little gift to him, enough time for the paranoia to truly take root.

“Mhm. He’s been acting weird lately. Even for him. He’s always brooding, but now he’s...tense somehow? Removed. Snapping at everyone. Locking himself away in his penthouse. Working more than before. I think something’s wrong with him, but he won’t tell any of us.”

“When isn’t he like that?”

Zoe crosses her arms, unimpressed, perfect waves cascading over her shoulders. Always in place. Always perfect.

She’s effortlessly beautiful.

What’s her secret?

Better yet, what secrets does her brother hide?

I’ve been dancing around this side project for long enough and although it’s been fun messing with him, it’s time to wrap things up.

Which means confronting him, and Tristan, soon.

Once I have everything I need, it’ll be fun taking care of him.

“Via, are you even listening?” Zoe’s voice slices through my thoughts.

“Of course,” I lie, feeling a twinge of guilt. “You’re worried about Aaron. Any idea what’s been troubling him? Maybe something at work?”

“Maybe. Tristan and Dominik seem unaware—or maybe they’re all hiding something from me. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

I hum, feigning interest, though I know exactly what she’s talking about.

It’s hard pretending to be concerned when inside I’m thrilled knowing my little gifts are getting under his skin.

Good.

Makes the eventual takedown easier.

“Maybe he’s just stressed. Big clients, big deals…you know how it is.”

Zoe rolls her eyes. “Oh please. Aaron eats stress for breakfast. Whatever this is, it’s different. I think it has something to do with a woman.”

The corner of my mouth twitches, but I keep my expression neutral.

“What woman?”

She waves a dismissive hand. “Who knows? He’s been so secretive. But I caught him looking at some file on his computer the other day. I saw a woman’s name and the outline of a photo.”

Is he investigating me?

Or is there someone else?

There better not be another stalker in his life.

Do you even hear yourself?

Still, I have to resist the urge to laugh.

If only she knew what her brother is really up to.

Or her best friend, for that matter.

“Intense,” I murmur softly, turning away to hide my smirk.

My phone buzzes.

The second I see his name, rage coils up my spine.

Car’s pulling into Blooms in two. Don’t make me send someone up.

I fucking hate him.

Hate how he still has so much control over me and my day.

I had it all planned—morning meetings, lunch with Zoe, spin class, then some light detective work.

But this text slices through all of it, tearing apart my day like it’s his to command.

Five minutes. Just enough time to remind me I’m still his puppet.

That my freedom is only an illusion.

Through the glass doors, the bustling office reassures me my mask remains intact.

“Everything okay?” Zoe’s watches me carefully, brows knitted.

I nod, rolling my eyes. “Yeah. Tracy wants me to go to one of those fancy coffee shops across town to get her usual.”

“You really need to stand up to her one of these days. She has the oddest requests.”

“It’s my job,” I say, trying to sound casual. “I’ll be back soon.”

The elevator ride feels endless.

Each ding adds weight to my chest.

Outside, the bitter New York air cuts like a knife.

A sleek black car idles at the curb, windows tinted to perfection.

My footsteps falter briefly, every instinct screaming to turn and run.

But running isn’t an option. Not with him.

The door swings open. The driver, unfamiliar, keeps his eyes forward.

He doesn’t even make eye contact with me. The silence is suffocating as I slide into the backseat. Inside smells of leather and faint metal—a reminder of the world I’ve tried so hard to escape.

It’s not long before the familiar skyline fades, replaced by the shadowy outskirts of the city. The driver doesn’t speak, and I don’t ask questions. I know better.

We pull into a gated property, the high walls lined with cameras and the kind of security that doesn’t just deter—it annihilates. The car stops, and the driver steps out, opening the door for me.

I step onto the gravel driveway, my heels crunching against the stones as I make my way to the main building. The air here feels thick, laced with a tangible menace that clings to my skin.

The double doors swing open before I can knock. Two men in dark suits stand aside, their eyes quickly scanning me before they look past me. I walk inside without a word, my pulse hammering in my ears.

You’ve done this a million times before. Don’t give him the satisfaction.

I need to stay calm or he’s going to smell the fear before I walk through his office. There is a reason the man owns this whole fucking city.

The room is dimly lit, the kind of deliberate ambiance meant to unsettle. And there he is, seated at the head of a long table, his presence as suffocating as ever.

Giovanni Mortelle.

He doesn’t look up immediately, his attention fixed on a glass of whiskey he cradles in one hand.

He never actually drinks the stuff, I’m pretty sure he just likes to play with it as a power move.

His other hand rests on the table, the family signet ring catching the faint light—the same ring that left scars on my mother’s face the night she tried to leave.

“You’re late, Caterina,” he drawls, each syllable like a tightening noose.

I clench my jaw. “Traffic.”

He knows exactly how to get under my skin. It was his car, his order. But that’s how this all works. This is Father’s world and the rest of us just survive in it.

Fucking asshole.

His lips curl into a faint smile. “Still full of excuses, I see.”

I cross my arms. “What can I help you with?”

He leans back, studying me like a predator sizing up its prey.

“You’ve been busy, haven’t you? Playing house at Blooms. Running around with your little friends.”

“It’s called a job. Something I’m good at, by the way.”

“Watch your tone.”

I practice the lessons I’ve been trying to instill in myself for years. Stay quiet, only offer silence. If he says something, ask him to repeat it. Appear as powerful as possible when faced with the bear.

He lets the silence stretch, then gestures to the chair. “Sit.”

I hesitate, my instincts screaming to stay on my feet. But defiance has its limits, especially with him. Reluctantly, I lower myself into the chair, my back straight, my hands folded in my lap. My fight or flight kicks in.

“You’ve been making waves,” he says, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “Drawing attention to yourself. Getting distracted by playing dress up. That’s dangerous, Caterina.”

“I don’t know what you’re?—”

“I don’t have time for your lies,” he cuts in, his voice sharp. “You’re getting too close. Too personal. That’s not what we agreed. You’re on a mission to find the drive. Stop getting distracted and focus on your target.”

“I can’t just jump in. Undercover work takes time.”

“Do as you’re told or there will be consequences.”

Classic move. Make everyone, including your own daughter, feel like they are completely worthless. “You don’t get to tell me how to live my life anymore. This is not an official mission I’ve been assigned.”

He leans forward. “Have you found the killer then? That one is your official mission.”

Slow breath through the nose, don’t break eye contact.

“I’m working on it.” My nails bite into my palms, knuckles white with restraint.

“More men have gone missing. Important men.”

“We haven’t found any bodies.”

“Not yet. But we will.”

A warning, which means I need to lay low for a while.

Did I cover all my tracks? Now I’m starting to panic.

Not the time.

“And Caterina, figlietta .” Father’s gaze hardens, and I know he knows how much I hate that nickname. Always my little girl. I’ve never been his little girl, my innocence was stripped away when I was a child and he made sure of that.

“You don’t have a life without me. I own you. Now listen before someone gets hurt.”

The words hit like a slap, but I refuse to let him see the impact.

“Is that all? Or did you drag me out here just to lecture me?”

“Step out of line again, Caterina, and I’ll remind you exactly who holds your leash.”

I hold his gaze, refusing to blink. “Anything else, Father?”

“That will be all. For now.”

I rise, steady despite the storm inside me.

“Caterina.”

Turning around slowly, I take in a quick breath and fake a smile, dreading his next words.

“Finding the killer is still your top mission. Don’t disappoint me again.”

My pulse spikes. Does he know?

Beneath the fear, I feel it: pride.

“I won’t.”

He looks at me as if he doesn’t believe me. As if he knows exactly who has been behind killing some of the rich, disgusting, political criminals in this country. I don’t care what anyone says, they’re the worst type of scum and they get away with everything.

I’m just taking out the trash, father. Aren’t you proud of me?

Seconds feel like hours before he nudges his head towards the door, finally dismissing me.

When I step outside, the car is waiting for me and the driver is holding the door open once more.

I slip into the waiting car, the driver’s silence as steady as ever. My reflection in the window stares back at me, unreadable, but the corners of my lips threaten to curl.

He suspects, of course he does. But he won’t touch me—not yet. Not unless he has proof, and I’ve spent years ensuring there isn’t any. If he had proof, I’d already be dead. He’s waiting for me to slip, but I won’t give him that satisfaction.

Killing bad men is almost too easy. They think they’re untouchable, that their money or status makes them immune to consequences. But they all make mistakes. They all leave trails. And I’ve become very good at following them.

By day, I’m the dutiful daughter. The perfect assistant. I fetch coffee, take notes, smile at the right moments, and fade into the background. My father’s side project, groomed to take on the family empire and serve him like everyone else in his life.

But by night? I’m something else entirely.

A reckoning.

Your worst fucking nightmare.

Before I know it, the car is pulling up to Blooms. I release the tension from my jaw, slipping back effortlessly into Via Jameson—pleasant, professional, a little quirky, and invisible.

Father also has no idea that I know exactly who has the drive he’s dying to possess. Too bad I need it more than he does. That drive is more than just leverage—it’s my path to freedom, proof of my father’s empire’s darkest secrets. Without it, I’m trapped forever.

Tristan and Aaron have dirt on everyone, likely because their names are on there too.

A comprehensive list of all slimy, rich businessmen across the country, not just New York City.

Men like this are the architects of every shadowy deal, every broken life, everything that’s evil and wrong with this world.

I want that list before anyone else gets their hands on it.

Each bad man I kill feels like a step toward redemption, as if I’m clawing my way back to something pure.

My father wants the drive to keep his empire intact, but little does he know, his daughter has her own plans.

Aaron and Tristan think they’re untouchable. They believe they’ve outplayed everyone, but they’re about to discover just how wrong they are. Tonight, they’ll learn exactly how disposable pawns really are.

And my father? He can keep believing I’m the perfect protégé.