Maid For The Mafia by Alice T. Boone

Chapter Six

A mattress didn’t feel like a home until you had no other home to go back to. As a kid, I refused to go to bed so long as I knew there was a world outside I wanted to grab with two hands. As a young adult, I’d spent so much time surfing from mattress to mattress that the thought of finding comfort in it never really occurred to me. Now, confusion lurking in every corner of my head, I found a new appreciation for The Beach Boys.

Every morning started with a gratitude check, and every morning turned over the same rock. It’d been a week and a half since I’d seen Terrance, since he fucked me like I’d never been fucked before, and I had to find some type of gratefulness for that. With the memory of his touch robbing me of any sense of sleep, all I could feel anymore was the wear on my tired bones. When I awoke Sunday morning, certain I was going to tackle the day ahead, all I could really do was lay in bed, staring at the ceiling until it was already well passed the noon hour.

Though, maybe that solitude wasn’t a bad thing. That’s why I left, wasn’t it?

In Ontario, they assured me that Vancouver would be the change of pace that I needed. It was supposed to be a breath of fresh air, a new direction to move in after Jackie burned my life to the ground. Instead, the city had a way of making me feel even more alone than I already was. I’d never felt so far away from reality in my entire life, locked away in the O’Brian manor and working my ass off. Staying here like this was going to tear apart whatever sense of peace I’d found, and I wasn’t sure I was willing to risk that anymore.

I’d wake up.

I’d breathe in.

I’d breathe out.

I’d make this work.

My hollow bones needed a little push to crawl out of the sheets— especially once the afternoon sun made it impossible to sleep. After six motionless hours, all I wanted anymore was to feel the familiar shift of muscles, of perspective, of blood. I slipped into my favourite yoga pants, yet another barely-there sports bra, and slunk out of the room before I had another moment to think. All I needed was a chance to reset, and as I crept through the quiet house, I made sure I’d find it.

Sundays within the O’Brian house were usually pretty quiet, but the summer heat brought a new kind of silence. For the most part, the staff had all gone home to their families— short of the deadbeats like me who opted to stay in-house rather than find a room to rent in the city. A chef remained, Valerie usually in to have a late lunch with her ‘secret’ lover, and Mr. O’Brian lurked only in the western part of the house, which meant the place was mostly free for me to crawl around in. Though, with opportunity tickling at the base of my spine, I knew the quiet wouldn’t last for long.

I could sense Jemma’s grouchy spirit long before I ever caught sight of her at the base of the stairs. The teenager was pressed against the entrance to the kitchen, arms crossed over her chest and a bored expression trying to hide her attention. Her dark hair had been tied into what I could only call a bun, and instead of her typical torn denim, the young woman was sporting a paint-splattered pair of yoga pants. Her baggy tee was some freebie from a local charity auction, and the young girl had never looked so uncomfortable in her life. It was the first time I’d ever seen her in workout clothes, and truthfully, I wondered if it was the first time she’d ever forced herself to be in them.

“Morning.”

Jemma’s attention finally shifted over to me— but even that wouldn’t last long. As I adjusted my yoga mat under my arm, Jemma’s eyes shifted back to the door.

“You sleep late.”

“Sometimes,” I hummed, rolling my neck and releasing a series of grunts. “Going out?”

The truth came with that slight parting of her lips. For a girl so young, Jemma had the stubbornness of a granny. A trait, I assumed, she learned from her father.

“You know, there’s this spot in the backyard that sings when it catches the sun just right,” I noted, making my way to the base of the stairs. “You could join me if you wanted.”

“I don’t know any of the—”

“Nothin’ to it, kid.” Jemma’s head bowed in defeat as I waved my arm. “Gonna need some breakfast first.”

“It’s 3 o’clock, Selina.”

“Never too late for pancakes, Jemma.”

My father was insistent that opportunity came when you least expected it. Dad was the grand optimist— even when he was chasing me away with a broom. He was certain that good things were always on the horizon, and once he passed in 2018, his keen nose passed on to me. Opportunity came for me the same way it came for my father: a change in the air, the subtle shifting of your feet. The moment Jemma followed me out the door, I could feel the works of fate.

It took far less convincing than I thought it would to get Jemma to help me with the pancakes, and even less to break through that look of misery on her features. By the time we started cleaning up, Jemma stopped avoiding my eye completely. Though, the good mood nearly vanished when I finally had her out in the sun, sprawled along a yoga mat and pretending the heat wasn’t drenching her in sweat. I could only tell her challenge was good for the soul twice before she threatened to bite my head off, but still, the teenager remained. By the end of the 30-minute routine, Jemma exchanged bites of frustration for a kind of forced concentration. If I didn’t know any better, I might have said she actually enjoyed herself— despite the complaining when we were done and laying in the sun.

Two hours was all it took to wear her down.

And I half expected it to be a challenge.

With my focus shifting between Jemma and my footing, I barely noticed the new sense of peace creeping in. My head scolded me for wasting so much time in bed, but as we laid together in the sun, my heart whispered it was worth it. Somehow, the young girl who originally seemed so dead-set on hating me brought me the most joy I’d found in a while.

“Thank you,” Jemma finally blurted, the admission forcing me to lower out of crow pose. Without another thought, the teen relaxed back into her mat, eyes closed and fingers laced behind her head. “For showing me the—”

“It’s fine.” Her eyes peeked open as I crossed my legs to face her. “Little surprised that you wanted to spend time with me though,” I admitted. “Thought you didn’t mingle with the help.”

While the heat left both of us burned, Jemma’s cheeks scorched. Embarrassment tensed her The girl relaxed back down, her eyes closing again as she basked in the sun. “This place is shoulders, but as she peeked an eye open to me, she seemed to relax. Like her father, I was certain Jemma was looking for a fight she didn’t really understand.

quiet without Micah.” A second thought batted her eyes open and her head tilted to the side. “And you didn’t tell Dad about me,” she noted. “If you told him, he probably wouldn’t hate you as much.”

My hum had a way of widening her grin. “I think we both know that’s not true.”

To see the girl now, outstretched and purring like a kitten, it was hard not to wonder if her father shared the same gentle side. While the rest of the staff were busy snooping, theorizing, picking, I was finding it increasingly easy to read Jemma. While Terrance may have been a practiced prick, Jemma was still just learning. She couldn’t hide herself as well, didn’t know how to disguise her fear as rage.

My hum filled my chest as I rested back on my palms. The summer sun filled me with a new kind of confidence, and as I let my eyes close, I let my rules slip just one more time. I said I wasn’t going to meddle, but this was different; right? This was just girl talk, and girl talk could never be meddlesome.

I think.

“Is it all for a boy?” When an answer wouldn’t come, I stole a peek at the young woman. Jemma’s face twisted, and I couldn’t help but smile. “The skipping breakfast and the afternoon yoga with the woman you hate, I mean.”

“I don’t hate you.” When she caught the urgency in her voice, a shiver ran through Jemma’s system. Desperate to cover her weak spots, Jemma’s face twisted back to annoyance. “What does it matter?”

“I thought as much,” I grinned. “Your dad doesn’t know, if that makes you feel any better.”

I wanted to push, to pry, to peck, but Jemma’s silence kept me penned in place. Together, we relaxed back into the warmth of the sun. If she was struggling with something, it wasn’t my place to force her through it. When she shifted in her seat, though, I was reminded that I never really needed to push in the first place. Jemma was forcing herself through the fire all on her own.

“He brought me out here to lock me away in that hellhole.” Her scowl faded as anger shifted to something sadder. “And I still can’t get away from him.”

“I hated school when I was your age,” I confessed casually. “Surprised they gave me a diploma.”

“The drama was bad enough at my old school, but at least I had someone to talk to.”

Just like Dad used to whisper, I felt the earth shift beneath my feet. I swallowed past the sand in my throat and pushed all my attention onto keeping my face blank, my voice casual.

“Your dad’s in the construction business?” Her answer came only with a condescending look, and I couldn’t help but smile. “And I’m guessing no one else has a father in the construction business?”

“No.”

When there was nothing left to say, I nodded my head. Boy drama was something I could handle. Being the only daughter of a mafia boss in a new school? That was out of my league.

“High school got a little more complicated since I left, I guess,” I groaned out. “I was just worried that my thighs were too fat or which bathroom I was gonna smoke in.”

“Some things don’t change, I guess.”

Her chuckle brought a smile to my face, and together, we relaxed back into the moment. “Some things don’t change,” I agreed. “Kid, I’m not really in a position to tell you any different, eh? But don’t change yourself to fit into some boy’s imagination. You’ll spend your whole life trying to stay there.”

A prickle of embarrassment ran through her, but when Jemma caught my knowing eye, she snapped her eyes closed and rested back again.

“He’s not even—” A shift in pitch had her snapping her mouth shut, another moment of contemplation before she tried to defend herself again. “We’re just friends right now.”

“Ah.”

“He’s older,” she rushed, as though that was going to make it any better. “I think he’s just a little insecure about dating someone my age.”

This time, when the scent of change filled my nose, it didn’t have the sweetness I was so used to. The statement came with a tickle to the back of my neck, but the dreamy expression that took over Jemma’s face didn’t leave me with an awful lot of options. I’d left high school years ago, but dropping my books didn’t mean dropping my lessons. Seniors were always trouble, but reminding Jemma of that fact would be like chasing her into his arms with a god damn broom.

“I dated this boy named Sean McIntyre when I was your age.” The statement piqued Jemma’s attention, but I kept my eyes off of her. “He was very cool. He drove a Pontiac and we used to listen to Nirvana and he had a septum piercing.” At the sound of her hiss, I could only shoot her a defensive glare. “I was clearly in love.”

“Sounds dreamy.”

With a wave of my hand, I dismissed her sarcasm. Sean was dreamy.

“He was first year at a local university and my father nearly throttled him when he dropped me off late one night. He used to spend all friggin’ night hunting us down.”

Suddenly, her grin faltered. Jemma rolled onto her side to face me, and I pretended I didn’t love the attention.

“Your dad?”

I hummed in acknowledgement, guilt clouding me a second later. “And he was old even back then.” Images of Dad chasing Sean down the street would probably haunt my nightmares forever. Somehow, that embarrassment never really leaves you. “We used to sneak out, wait down the block in his car, wait until Dad peeled out, and then we’d sneak back into my bedroom.”

“What!?”

“Oh, I invented the double back,” I stated, matter-o’-factly. When I finally noticed how much of Jemma’s attention I caught, though, I shifted into a thoughtful expression. “Your dad’ll kill this boy if he does anything stupid, you know?”

“I know.”

“So, don’t do anything stupid.”

Her mouth opened to bite back at me, but when I gave her a grin, Jemma just nodded her head. For the moment, I was certain it was the only common ground we’d reach— before Jemma shifted into another gear entirely. Before we could relax back into the moment, a curse flew from Jemma’s mouth, her eyes on her overpriced smart watch.

“Shit,” she hissed. “I gotta go get ready.”

“Hot date?”

With a glare, the raven-haired girl rolled up my spare mat. “Mind your business, nanny.”

“I’m a housekeeper.”

At sixteen, I was certain the only thing that made Jemma move that fast was her mystery man. While it took us nearly an hour to eat breakfast and meander out onto the lawn, it only took her seconds to race back inside and change into her typical attire. Though, when she shouted out a goodbye to me, I couldn’t help but feel a little accomplished. It was becoming rare that I opened my mouth without putting my foot in it. My meddling had, for once, actually done something good, but before the swell of pride could fill my lungs, a splash of reality dosed the fire. Right as I settled in to find my lost sense of peace, another creature of chaos settled in to steal it away.

For the first time in nearly two weeks, Terrance O’Brian made an appearance.

Every piece of survival instinct told me to keep my mouth shut, to keep my eyes closed, to bask in the sunlight like he wasn’t there. Though, around Mr. O’Brian, laying out in the sun felt more like laying under a heat lamp. As the man settled onto the ground next to me, pretending he didn’t look completely flawless in his grey sweats, shirtless like a damn god, I tried to remember what it was like to be cool, collected, calm. All I wanted was to feel as confident next to the man as I did next to his daughter. I wanted to broadcast some false sense of security, as though I hadn’t spent the better part of the week touching myself to his memory. When that seemed impossible, though, I tried to carry on like he wasn’t there. I folded forward in my seat, grasping at my feet and allowing my back body to stretch.

“I won’t beg for you attention, Selina.”

My locked jaw was the only thing to keep me from snarling back at him. Just days ago, he was trying to convince meI was begging for his attention. Now he had the nerve to come out and accuse me of avoiding him? If the sight of him in the sunlight didn’t knot my stomach, I might have found the strength to teach him a lesson in etiquette. Instead, all I could do was spare a single glance before continuing with my cool-down stretches.

“What can I help you with, Mr. O’Brian?”

“Pretty sure we’re past Mr. O’Brian.” Butterflies filled my stomach for the first time in years. “Terrance is fine, Selina.” Another moment of silence choked me, but when Mr. O’Brian finally spit out the name he truly wanted, I realized I wasn’t the only one. “Terry.”

Instinct snapped my head to the side. I was supposed to be maintaining distance at this job. When Jackie insisted we shift to a first-name basis, it was the start of a lifetime of trouble. Though, to see Terry now, it was hard to feel the same tingle in my spine. As the man relaxed in the sun, I couldn’t help but relax with him. The difference between Terry and Jackie was that Terry wasn’t running a con.

Not on me, at least.

Not yet.

“What did she say?”

“What did who say?”

Annoyance prickled his skin. “Jemma,” he hissed. “You two have been out here for two hours.”

“Oh.” Stoic features whispered Terry wanted me to regurgitate every word, but when that didn’t feel right, I offered the only ones that did. “She’s lonely.”

“Why wouldn’t she be? She only goes to school with 1500 other kids.”

Hints of bitterness told me to be careful, that it wasn’t my place to rock the boat any more than I already had. Betraying Jemma’s trust would be like social suicide within Vancouver, but he had a right to know, didn’t he? If there was a chance of helping her, I had to tell her father, didn’t I?

“My understanding is it might be a little hard to make friends when your father’s Terrance O’Brian.”

I expected annoyance. I expected anger. I didn’t expect the flash of sadness that ran through him. Terry had spent two weeks avoiding me, surely disgusted at the thought of what we had done, which meant he had to love his daughter an awful lot. Enough to approach me, at least.

“I can’t change that.”

“Don’t know that she wants you to change it, Terry,” I noted, finally turning my attention towards him. “You should spend more time with her.”

“She hates me.”

My chuckle only earned a glare from him.

“She’s your daughter, isn’t she?” I grinned. “Anger seems to be your primary love language.”

At first, I was pretty certain he’d lunge at me. When Terry’s head snapped to the side, his jaw clenched and his fists tightened, he was searching for something I couldn’t quite understand. Though, my grin never faltered. The smile seemed to soften him a little, and when Terry finally relaxed back into his seat, I wondered if he’d always been this easy to talk to.

My body shifted forward when that awful tug came, the shift I’d never be able to avoid. The question that gnawned at me for weeks was now crawling up my throat, but I wasn’t sure there was much of a way to avoid it anymore. When Jemma brought up the older man, the one who was nervous about dating someone younger, I couldn’t help the way my neck burned. When I caught sight of the bandages that covered his knuckles the past week, I couldn’t help the way I choked it out.

“You said Micah was your best man?”

His jaw stiffened, but I kept my gaze forward. “Micah’s been dealt with.”

It would only take my silence to bring the waves Terry had been so desperate to control. Anger, disgust, and then that awful sickness. When the self-loathing came, when his attention turned forward again, all I could do was stare ahead.

“Have a bit more faith in me than that, Selina,” he ground. “Micah’s back in Toronto until he learns his place.”

As a prickle ran over my spine, my head snapped back. “With Jackie?”

“What the fuck would that matter?” Whatever anger lived in him before was gone in an instant, and as survival instinct stiffened his muscles, he searched my features for a sign of betrayal, for a sign I wasn’t sure I could give him. Finally, Terry settled again, his eyes glued to the sun ahead. “Jackie sent you as a way to make up for treating my father like shit. I don’t do business with fucks like that.” It wasn’t until my shoulders lowered that Terry seemed to relax again. “Did she say all that?”

Confusion laced my brow. “Who?”

“Jemma,” he snapped. “Did she say those words?”

“What words?”

“That she wanted me to spend more time with her.”

“Not exactly,” I confessed. I pried my gaze off of him. Staring at Terry too long usually meant some kind of humiliation. Instead, I settled back into my seat. “If she’s dating an older boy, it’s only because she wants your attention.”

“She’s what?”

Ice rushed through my veins— another signal I’d stepped too far. Any sense that I’d done something right had long-since vanished, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at the beast forming beside me. Terry could be as mad at me as he wanted, could fire me, could ruin me. The only person I was really afraid of disappointing was his daughter. There was something tragic about being let down by the only person you’ve ever opened up to.

“Who?”

“Terry—”

“What’s his fuckin’ name, Selina?”

I tried my best to keep my gaze soft, to hide any signs of worry when I looked over to him. Though, I wasn’t certain I could hide much from Terry. Not anymore. I was certain he could smell my concern, his jaw clenching and his shoulders dropping as his eyes scanned my features. It took minutes for his breathing to return back to normal, for his jaw to loosen and another hiss to escape, but I wouldn’t be rushed. I wouldn’t force him to relax if he wasn’t ready.

“Don’t ask me anything else, alright?” While I kept my voice as gentle as possible, his face still screwed with annoyance. “If you ask, I’ll have to lie to you, and I don’t want to lie to you; okay? Don’t ask me to betray either of you. If something was wrong, I would tell you.”

For the last time, I felt a shift beneath my feet. Terry didn’t tense beside me. His fists didn’t ball, and his jaw didn’t tighten as he lifted himself to his feet. Instead, the man’s hands found their way inside his pockets, and when his eyes finally drifted back down to me, it was all I could do to stare at him. With a simple nod, the conversation ended.

“Don’t fuck this up, Selina.”

* * *

Before he died, my father preached about perspective. To Daddy, the world was whatever you wanted it to be, and it was perspective that made the countryside estate a prison to a girl like Jemma. When I needed a place to hide, to heal, to hurt, the O’Brian manor had become my palace. The warmth of summer afternoons had a way of making work the last thing on my mind, and for the final two weeks of July, I made it a point to skip out on my last hour of work to explore the rolling countryside. The teachings that had never been able to reach me as a kid filled my lungs on those afternoons and, for the first time in a long time, I found a home drenched in the setting sun.

If only for a week, life in the O’Brian house had brown quiet. Wherever it was that Terry had disappeared to the other night, it seemed to calm him down. Whatever he gained from our chat on Sunday had relaxed him again, and for a few short days, the house almost seemed at peace. Terry’s afternoons were spent in the kitchen reading, pretending not to notice when I snuck back into the house through the garage door, and Jemma had been able to leave the house twice without a fit being thrown.

It was peaceful.

But then, it was Jackie who taught me peace was bad for business.

After an hour-long bike ride, I thought nothing would ever bother me again. Until I pulled up to the house, at least. Until I recognized the dark coupe that had nearly run me over not 15 minutes before now parked haphazardly in the driveway. As my muscles creeped back up my shoulders, I slipped my leg over the side and glided back to my space in the garage. Cops had become a semi-regular occurrence in the house, stopping by to either pay their respects or try to cut their teeth, and while I wanted to assume this was a regular visit, I couldn’t deny the way the car raised the hairs on my neck.

The vehicle was too flashy for an officer.

And Terry’s own men knew better than to disturb him at home.

It was the nervous itch in my bones that had me slipping off my shoes before I entered the house. I wouldn’t let so much as a footstep disturb the silence that greeted me, and once I’d finally crawled into the kitchen, I was almost too scared to breathe. Terry wasn’t hidden away in his nook where I’d left him, and when I caught sight of his book and his phone left out on the table, my hairs raised again. It was only the stern voice in the back of my head that pushed me forward, the one that reminded me again of a hopeless promise not to pry. Muffled footsteps brought me across the kitchen, slipped Terry’s phone into the pocket of my jeans, and snatched the book off the table. I’d put the damn thing away, and then I’d hide away in my room like I was supposed to. I wouldn’t meddle, but as my attention drew to the side, I found myself wondering if Terry and I had more in common than he let on. Neither the mobster nor the maid was any good at living in peace.

The blonde stood in the staff stairwell just a few feet to my left, wearing a grin that had a habit of tearing the lining out of my stomach. The quiet told me that Travis had been wandering the house unaccompanied, and a sickness rolled through my system. Memories of Jacki, of Micah, straightened my spine, and as I turned to face him, Travis made his way to the bottom of the stairs.

“Thought you’d be hiding around here somewhere.”

“Are you looking for Mr. O’Brian?”

I wouldn’t let his chuckle crawl over my skin. Travis ran his hands through his hair, and as he took another step in to the kitchen, I kept myself rooted in place. I wouldn’t lose my head with Travis the way I had with Micah, wouldn’t push an issue that I had no right pushing. This job was supposed to be a second chance for me, a new perspective, and if I covered it in any more blood, I was certain I’d lose that forever. Sickness curdled my stomach as his hand reached out, a finger slipping under the strap of my tank top. When my annoyance became impossible to hide, Travis’ grin widened.

“Have to say, I kinda miss the uniform.”

I didn’t move until his fingers threatened to drift lower, but the quick snap only had a way of widening an already twisting smile. “It’s my day off,” I lied. “I’m not supposed to be working, but I can make an exception.”

“That the only exception you can make?”

With every ounce of will I had left, I summoned a polite smile. “You can leave a message with me and I’ll let Mr. O’Brian know you stopped by.”

The name was the supposed to save me, the one that had shielded me before, only seemed to push Travis further. Another chuckle filled the space between us, and my smile fell completely. “He make you do that ‘Mr. O’Brian’ shit? I knew he was into some kinky shit.”

“It has nothing to do with—”

“Or is that just a Toronto thing?”

This time, I didn’t think there was a way to hide my fear, to hide the nervousness, to hide the ghost that haunted me. I wanted to spit out another lie, to inform him that he had it wrong and I was a transfer from Alberta. I wanted to tell him just about anything, but when his eyes wandered my body, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to speak again. The sickness I’d been so desperate to run from shot through my system, and my arms folded over my chest.

Travis looked at me the same way every gangbanger in Toronto looked at me.

Travis looked at me like he had seen those awful photos.

The twist of my heart whispered that perspective would never be enough to get me a fresh start. Somethings would be impossible to run from, and when a hand landed on my back, when my gaze shifted to the right, my legs turned to lead. When Terry appeared beside me, I felt my one and only chance at a normal life slip away.

“You’re late.”

Travis’ face twisted, a snarl held back only with the grinding of teeth. “Your house is fuckin’ empty,” he noted, adjusting the duffle bag on his right shoulder. “Where’d Jemma go?”

With his hand on me, I could feel every muscle within him tense. Beside me, Terry shifted into something far more dangerous, a response to an unwritten rule. It was bad enough for men like Travis to step foot in his house. It was another thing to have him choke out the name that Terry was so deadest on keeping separate from this life.

“Take it to my office.” The kid’s eyes shifted with the command, adjusting his bag again before another one of Terry’s barks froze the room. “Not you.” The command, hissed through gritted teeth, spun my head to the right. Terry’s dark eyes wouldn’t leave Travis, but when his hand dropped off my lower back, the chill of reality settle into my spine. Here, he wouldn’t speak my name either, but I’d never been more sure who he was talking to. “Take it to my office.”

“Why?” Travis’ question was only met with a hand in my back, with my body being tossed towards him. It wasn’t until I had stood in front of him, hands outstretched, that I heard his teeth begin to crack. “Why?”

“Give her the bag.”

The command stiffened the room again, and finally, Travis’ dark eyes fell. I was used to the objectification. I was used to the sideways glances, to the stares, to the comments, to the way their hands groped through every piece of my chest. The two months before I met Terry had been a torment that kept me stern. I could handle those awful looks— but the thing that lived inside Travis was different. His eyes wouldn’t leave me as he thrust the bag into my chest, a force that sent me back another few feet. When that darkness threatened to eat me alive, the only thing that kept me upright was Terry’s hand on my back, his lips on my ear.

“Wait for me upstairs.”

“Yeah.”

Making my way back to the staircase felt like wading through mud. My eyes stayed glued to the path ahead of me, desperate to follow Terry’s instruction as much as I was trying to escape those awful eyes, but there was no avoiding the chill that took over my skin. With a man like Terry, it was stupid to think I’d ever get a moment of rest.

Terry’s office had a way of making a second feel like an hour. In the two minutes it took to crawl up the stairs and close the oak doors, I’d lost my breath twice, stopping to clutch onto whatever life I had left as the image I’d built came tumbling down. The moment I entered the room, the bag fell to the ground, and the lead in my feet had turned to rot in my heart. Practice reminded me that I could breathe my way through the chemicals, that my breath was the only thing I really needed. When that panic took hold, though, I wasn’t sure I knew much of anything at all.

When logic told me to stay strong, the voice whispered Travis knew my secret.

When logic told me to breathe, the voice whispered Terry would never forgive me.

“Shit.”

Trembling hands straightened out the hair I’d tugged out of place. When that awful sickness threatened to topple me, I sucked back a breath that would set me straight. Keeping that act up had almost killed me in Toronto, but if I had convinced Jackie I had a backbone of steel, maybe I could convince Terry too. Brushing my hair back again, I let the wind whisper the only plan I really had. When Terry came upstairs, came to confront me, came to fire me, I’d tell him the truth. I’d tell him that the only thing that caused a black mark on my record was my inability to bend to Jackie’s demands. I’d tell him that I had nothing to be ashamed of, that I had nothing to be embarrassed of, that I had nothing to hide. And then, I’d beg him to let me stay in the peace he had created.

Though, when the front door slammed, I didn’t remember any of that.

All I remembered was the fear.

My lungs couldn’t suck back anything as I listened to him rush up the stairs, as I watched Terry enter the office and slam the doors shut behind him. Disgust had laced his features, but for the first time, Terry wouldn’t look at me as he entered the room. The man crouched to grab the bag off the floor, and when he tore it open on his desk, I forced myself to look away. I knew better than that. I wasn’t until he had counted whatever it was inside that he seemed to calm down a little. His snarl released the tension that had been building in his chest, and his hands ran over his features as he rested back again the desk.

Until I caught his eye, at least.

The man straightened, crossing his arms over his chest before turning back to zip up the bag. “You can go, Selina.” My name on his tongue brought a tightness to my stomach, and when I refused to glance over to him, I was certain he could see right through me. “What now?”

My arms folded. I wanted my voice to catch in my throat, but when desperation tightened my muscles, all that was really left were those sad notes. “What did he say to you?”

“I don’t answer your fucking questions, Selina.” The snarl snapped my head around, and finally, I locked eyes with the beast. Whatever peace Terry had found for the week was gone, and as his fists tightened across the room, I did my best to quiet a frantic heart. “I’m not dealing with this shit from him and dealing with it from someone like—”

“I just—” My voice would rise, but when Terry’s snarl filled my lungs, there wasn’t space for anything else. We stood in silence, the awful pieces of me staring at the awful pieces of him, and when my eyes finally jumped back to the floor, Terry quieted. “I just wanted to know if he said anything about me.”

“What the fuck was he supposed to say?”

Finally, I felt my programming come back to me. A deep inhale brought my hands through my hair, and a hum fixed my clothing. With a wave of my hand, I tried to seem as casual as possible, as though I weren’t committing to the biggest mistake I could make. “Forget about it.”

“If there’s something going on, Selina, I need to know about it.”

The command brought a chill to my spin, the cold that came with the shift. There would only be so many chances to tell him the truth. If I wanted to have a hope of salvaging a working relationship with the man who had saved me from that torment, I had to be honest with him. I had to throw myself down at his feet and beg for forgiveness, but as I turned, my lips wouldn’t part the way they needed to.

The truth would damage his pride— and pride was all Terry had left.

The truth would for me to leave— and this was the only peace I had anymore.

“No,” I lied. “Nothing’s going on.”