Mob Boss’ Curvy Hostage by Lisa Lovell

Chapter One

Sophie

I wish I didn’t have this weird feeling in my gut.

“Has Amy come in yet?” I ask my dear friend, and the receptionist for my floor at Chatsworth bank, Diane, as I hurry to my office. I’m fifteen minutes late and Amy will have my head for it. At least, I’ve come bearing gifts in the form of that keto coffee she likes so much.

“No,” Diane shakes her head. “You’re off the hook.”

I pause before disappearing into my office. “Wait, she’s not here?” I can’t possibly be that lucky. Amy is never late. She likes everything to be in perfect in order. That’s why she hired me as an assistant. I leave nothing to chance and manage every last detail. I know her calendar more than I know my next-door neighbor.

“I thought it was strange too,” Diane nods. “Did she say anything to you yesterday?”

“No,” I reply. “In fact, she didn’t’ say anything when I left yesterday. She was completely transfixed on her computer.”

What I don’t tell Diane is that Amy hasn’t been herself for the past few days. She’s been snappy and more tense than usual. That’s not the usual Amy.

“Well, that’s not out of the ordinary, is it? No one puts more hours in than Amy.”

“Still weird that she’s not here. I’m sure she’ll be in soon.”

I enter Amy’s office, twice the size of my own, and realize immediately that something isn’t right. All of her desk drawers are open and her computer was never powered off. I move to switch it off, lest she thinks someone was browsing through her files, but I stop when I notice the webpage pulled up.

It’s a booking confirmation for a one-way flight with yesterday’s date on it.

“Diane, get in here!” I shout. Diane rushes in with a certain gleam in her eye. She lives for office gossip, especially if it involves one of the higher-ups.

“She went to Switzerland?” She shakes her head. “That can’t be right.”

“It says her name right there.” I point to the screen. “She doesn’t have family there. She only travels in early fall.”

“And no return date. Have you called her?”

“Let me try.” I pull out my cellphone and call her up, but I’m greeted at once by a robotic voice telling me the number has been disconnected. “I don’t understand. What do we do? Should we call the police?”

“And say what? A grown woman booked a one-way trip for herself and changed her number? That’s not illegal or suspicious.”

“It’s absolutely suspicious!” I counter. “Amy lives for her job. She worked her ass off for this position. She manages accounts for the richest people in the country. Why would she give that up?”

“What if she pissed someone off?” Diane lowers her voice to below a whisper. “What if this is some Valente shit.”

“Don’t start with that,” I click my tongue. “The mob stuff is just silly rumors and the Valente’s don’t use this bank. Be serious.”

“I am! Think about it. She could ruin lives if she wanted to. She knows things about powerful people.”

I refuse to think about that. All it will do is make me panicked and paranoid. “If we don’t hear from her by tomorrow, then we can start freaking out. There might be a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this.”

The phone on Amy’s desk rings. I answer it with a professional greeting even though I feel like I’m going to pass out. “Amy Bridgeport’s office, Sophie speaking. May I take a message?”

“That won’t be necessary,” a deep voice comes through the speaker. “Sophie, this is William Chatworth.”

“Hello, Sir!” I stammer. “What can I do for you?”

“We are aware of Ms. Bridgeport’s departure and I want to assure you that everything is fine. Until we find a suitable arrangement, you will take over her duties.”

“Yes, Sir.” I eke out and hang up before he can say anything.

“Did you just…hang up on Mr. Chatsworth?” Diane gasps.

My mouth drops open. “Holy shit. I did. I was just so caught off guard. Oh, God.”

“Don’t panic.” Diane grabs my shoulders. “What did he say?”

“He told me to do Amy’s job.”

“Then that’s what you’re going to do and you’re going to rock it.”

I make appointments, I chat with secretaries, I make notes, and I arrange meetings. I don’t actually do the talking! Amy was at ease with the wealthy members of the Elite Accounts department. She knew how to do all of that schmoozing and social dancing all of those upper echelons like. I don’t have a clue how to do any of that.

“You look like you’re about to throw up,” Diane laughs.

“I just might.”

“Don’t worry! Just explain what’s happened and be positive. You know how things work around here. You can handle anything Amy’s clients throw at you. You’re next in line for her position for a reason.”

“I know. I just would have liked to be more prepared, that’s all.” I smooth the front of my dress. “I better get started.”

“I’m right out front if you need anything.” With a wink, Diane returns to her desk in the lobby.

I approach Amy’s desk as if it could be booby-trapped, as if Amy will jump out at any moment and scream, “job thief!”

Of course, that doesn’t happen. With no meetings on the books, I take some time to familiarize myself with everything and straighten up the desk. Why has everything been left open? Even if Amy suddenly decided to completely change her life, she wouldn’t leave drawers with sensitive information in them.

Anyway, Mr. Chatworth said everything is fine. I just hope I hear from her soon. Something isn’t right about any of this.

A square of bright pink paper catches my eye. It wasn’t there yesterday, I’m sure of it. I pick it up to examine the writing. It’s covered in numbers I can’t make heads or tails of, along with a name and a time.

Ryan Madison – meet at alley entrance

9:30 am

5TH Floor

I glance at the clock. This Ryan Madison person will be arriving in fifteen minutes. Why is the meeting being held on the fifth floor? It’s been abandoned for a year now ever since the department it housed went remote. And the back alley?

“There is a reasonable explanation,” I mutter to myself. I have a feeling I’ll be saying that a lot today.

I grab the coffee that would have been Amy’s and take it down to the fifth floor to do everything I can to make it suitable for a meeting.

I enter the alleyway behind the bank just in time to watch the shiniest Mercedes Benz I’ve ever seen. It’s like a perfect black mirror. It gives me one last chance to make sure I don’t have any coffee drips on my dress. One dark spot on sticks out like a sore thumb.

Damn it.

I sweep my honey-colored hair over the spot. As long as I don’t move my head too much, I’ll be fine.

A primly dressed driver with pristine white gloves gets out of the car and opens the driver’s seat. A man with dark hair, as smooth and slick as his car, gets out. When I finally get a glimpse of his face, I almost can’t stop my mouth from dropping open.

It takes years and years to amass the kind of wealth that requires the bank's elite services. Most of the clients Amy handled were closer to seventy than fifty. This man doesn’t look like he’s reached thirty. He looks at me with eyes that exude power. I can tell he isn’t the kind of man who can be tamed easily. He’s the kind of man who could break me in half if I’m not careful. His steel-blue gaze snaps to mine.

“Who are you?” He demands. “You’re not Amy Bridgeport.”

“Amy Bridgeport no longer works here. I’m her assistant and I’m taking over her position.”

He looks me up and down. “You know you have coffee on your dress, right?”

Son of a bitch.

“I do,” I say. “And yet I can still manage accounts. Funny how that works.” I soften my words with a smile and pray I didn’t just piss off someone who can make my life hell.

The corner of his mouth quirks up into a smile. “We’ll see about that. I’ll follow you.”