Page 20 of Safe Word

‘Of course,’ she said with a slight nod. ‘I brought two more – both best-sellers.’ She reached back into the bag and placed the remaining books on the desk in front of me.

I inclined my head, my curiosity already burning through my grey matter. I wanted to tear into her stories, devour the words she wrote, not just to understand her style, but to see if her mind was as dark and twisted as mine. Could she delve into the same shadows and come out unscathed? Or was she like me, dragging those shadows with her wherever she went?

‘You’re American?’ Vinnie asked, breaking the moment as he casually shouldered up against the doorframe again. His arms crossed in a way he knew emphasized the bulk of his muscles. His Italian charm was turned up to full throttle, but Paula barely seemed to notice. She didn’t falter even when her gaze slid briefly to him before settling back on me.

‘Yes. But my mother is Italian,’ she said, her voice clipped – impatient, as if she had bled out that answer a dozen times already. ‘I moved here two years ago. I have family here.’

‘No husband? No children?’ Vinnie pressed, his tone light, but I could see the faint glint of personal interest in his eyes. However, he wasn’t just asking for fun – he wanted to know what kind of complications might follow her into the job.

I shook my head subtly, warning him off, mindful of the strict European labour laws against invasive questions like that.

‘None,’ she answered before I could intervene. This time there was an edge to her, something hidden beneath her composed exterior. Whatever the reason, it piqued my curiosity further. What secrets did she harbour?

I cleared my throat, redirecting the conversation before Vinnie could dig any deeper. ‘We’ll fit you with a desk and the necessary equipment. The job would require you to come into the office regularly. Can you manage that? Do you live nearby?’

Her attention shifted to me, her gaze settling like heat, then spreading over my skin, raising gooseflesh.

‘I live about twenty minutes away,’ she said softly. ‘The commute won’t be a problem.’

I nodded, labouring to maintain an air of professionalism, though every nerve in my body screamed for something else.

I glanced at her CV again, my fingers brushing the edge of the paper as if the motion could ground me.

Her eyes travelled back to mine and held, steady and unwavering. It wasn’t often a woman could hold her own against me, and I wasn’t sure whether it intrigued or unnerved me. I knew my looks weren’t exactly a hindrance – I had even done some modelling on the side when money had been tight – but she didn’t seem fazed. No flustered glances. No lingering stares.

Maybe she played for the other team?

The thought sparked an unexpected surge of disappointment, but I quickly shoved it aside.

My phone chose that moment to buzz into life against the desk. My gaze skimmed the screen – the stark Hospice flashing over it – and I grabbed the damn thing like it was seconds from exploding. Jabbing the volume button to silence the rattle did little to kill its echo lingering in the back of my mind.

My heart kicked into my throat.

What the fuck did they want again? Was something wrong with the monthly payments?

It was the third time they’d called me in the last two days.

Paula repositioned in her chair and snapped me out of it. She cocked an eyebrow at me, lips curving ever so slightly as if holding back a retort.

‘Look,’ she said, glancing down briefly – and for a moment, I worried she was about to get up and leave. ‘I know I was late for the interview, and I’m sorry about that. I’ve been doing these all day. And I get it – you’ve probably already found someone for the role, so I’ll just get up and get out of your hair.’

My jaw tightened as she pushed back her chair, and I bit down on my lip to keep from blurting something overly eager – or pathetic.

Rising from her seat, she extended a hand. I took it. Even her grip was confident, her skin warm against mine.

For a moment, I wondered whether she could feel the faint tremor in my fingers.

As she reached the door, she hesitated, glancing back over her shoulder. The brief pause felt charged; her eyes meeting mine for a fraction longer than necessary – just long enough to kick my pulse into gallop.

‘Have a good day, Mr D’Angelo, Mr Marino,’ she said, her voice soft but steady. The sides of her mouth lifted in the barest hint of a smile, one that answered nothing.

Vinnie – the Observant – glared at me from the corner of my vision, his lips moving soundlessly: ‘Say something.’

‘Can I keep these, regardless of the decision?’ I asked, holding up the book she’d handed me earlier.

Vinnie’s mouth fell open with a mix of disbelief and exasperation. He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Paula gave no visible reaction. Her face remained blank. ‘Of course,’ she said smoothly. ‘I have more copies.’