Zadie’s POV
I wasn’t sure what hit me harder, landing the job or realizing I had to assist the man who had me moaning “sir” a few nights ago.
There he was. Behind a sleek desk, in a tailored charcoal suit, a watch that probably cost more than my apartment, and that same smug face I’d ridden in a hotel bed. Now I had to call him sir and pretend like he hadn’t ruined my life, and my back. I kept my face calm, keeping my legs steady. No emotion. No flashbacks. Just stick to the mission.
As I walked past his office, Lazaro didn’t even look up. “Ms. Valestro. Hope you’re settling in.”
“I am,” I said. “Thank you, sir.”
His mouth twitched. “Good. Let me know if you need anything. And I mean… anything.” I smiled tight and kept walking.
The morning was recon disguised as orientation. I made rounds, chatted up assistants, pretended to be wide-eyed and impressed. But I was watching everything. In the copy room, two bubbly assistants gushed like we were in a romcom.
“He’s so kind,” one said. “Covered Jenna’s surgery last year.”
“Donated to the cancer wing, too,” the other whispered. “Didn’t even post about it.”
I faked a laugh. “What a guy.”
Meanwhile, the files said he laundered money through fake nonprofits and sold weapons to people whose names ended in body counts. Too clean. That made him dangerous.
By late afternoon, my head was pounding from all the fake smiling and pretending not to hate the air he breathed. He passed my desk twice. Once to say nothing, next to smirk. And somehow, that was worse. At five sharp, he appeared again.
“Ms. Valestro. Walk with me.” I grabbed my bag and followed him into the elevator. No small talk. Not in the lobby. Not when we stepped out into the humid dusk.
He moved fast. I kept pace, heels ticking on the pavement. When we reached his SUV, the driver door cracked.
Then- Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gunshots and screams. I stood frozen and alert.
SERIOUSLY!? On the very first day of my job!
“Down!” Lazaro yelled, grabbing my arm. I slammed into his chest, and he turned, shielding me with his body. We ran towards the parking lot.
“Get in the f*cking car!” He flung the back door open and shoved me in.
“What the-”
“No time!” He dove in after me. Doors slammed. Tires screeched. Then we were gone.
I sat there, breathless, as adrenaline blasted through me. “What the hell just happened?!” Lazaro didn’t flinch. Just scanned the rear window like a soldier.
“Someone sent a message,” he suddenly blurted and then grabbed his phone like a teenager waiting for his allowance.
“You’re not surprised…” he said, then looked at me, assessing me.
“I’m not,” still catching my breath.
His voice was so calm I wanted to slap him. We sat in silence, broken only by the blur of city lights outside. Then I said, “You’re not what I expected.”
He glanced at me. “That’s the second time you’ve said that.”
I stared. “People try to kill you, and you’re flirting?”
He shrugged. “It keeps me calm.”
“Try therapy,” I said, trying to offend me.
“I do. Tuesdays.” My jaw dropped. I blinked. “You’re kidding.”
I looked away, trying not to lose it. The guy was chaos wrapped in confidence. And the worst part? My body was reacting like it missed him. Like it wanted to lean back into the man who just saved me.
I didn’t come here to catch feelings. I came to catch a criminal. But right now? I couldn’t tell which was more dangerous, his enemies or him.