The Dark Secret of the CEO by Sofia de Orellana

Chapter 25

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. What the fuck do I do? It’s far too late to move, he saw me. We’re literally standing perhaps six, seven feet away from each other, and staring at one another. My heart’s doing some horrible dance in my chest and just won’t fucking stop. What the heck is he doing here!

“…Can I help you?” I force myself to utter.

Posh, British accent, deep voice. I slip back into Hera’s role as if I was acting for a damn Oscar. Every single limb of mine gets into its role, and I’m trying to replay Benedict’s lessons at full speed. I have to act nothing like June, if there’s just the slightest bit of chance he recognized me… I stand tall, checking him out from head to toe – the heels definitely help – as if I was seeing him for the very first time, and slowly cross my arms as elegantly as possible, raising my chin a bit. I show nothing of my heart going absolutely crazy, the thoughts echoing loudly in my head.

“My apologies,” he says. “I was hoping to meet with Mr Heartgraves. Nobody was answering and the door was open…”

He definitely just made that up, I’m sure I heard him open that door. How did he force it in such a short time?

“Well, my uncle isn’t here,” I say, thankfully sounding much calmer than I am under the surface.

“Your uncle?” He frowns.

My god, the way his dark eyes are staring at me, I feel like I’m standing naked on a damn podium… A hot shiver runs down my spine, and I swallow down. I’ve never felt this hot in my whole human and vampire lives combined. Keep acting, don’t break the character…

“My name is Hera Heartgraves. And you are…?”

“…Agent Rivera.”

“Agent?” I ask, reminding myself I’m supposed to know nothing of him.

“I’m a cop.”

Yeah, except that you are a New York City Cop, not a London one. But then again, Hera is not supposed to know that… Shit, how do I keep doing this? Bart, you ass! I’m sure he just ran next door to hide and is listening to all this.

“What does a cop want with my uncle?”

“I don’t have to disclose that information to you, Miss Heartgraves.”

“You’re the one who trespassed.”

He seems to hesitate a little, glance around, and then suddenly goes back to me, tilting his head a little.

“…Do I know you?”

For half a second, I flinch. He could not have recognized me, he just couldn’t have. No way… In a sudden, genius split-second thinking, I point at my gigantic portrait on the wall.

“I am a model, Agent Rivera. Not that famous yet, but you might have seen me on some magazine cover.”

I have to pat myself on the back for that one. The not-so-humble bragging would have never been a thing of June’s… Rick glances at the portrait quickly while I try hard to decipher his expression. Yeah, he’s confused. Definitely confused. Does he have doubts, then? He’s scrutinizing that portrait for longer than I thought, going back and forth to the actual me. I don’t look like June, right? Perhaps I really dreamt that earlier…

“…Perhaps,” he mutters, not sounding convinced at all. “Are you familiar with Charles Williams? He seems to be a new client of your uncle.”

“How would you know that?”

“I just saw him leave this place.”

“Then you should have seen my uncle leaving with him.”

“I don’t know what Mr Heartgraves looks like. I assumed he was part of Mr Williams’ staff.”

Shit, it’s actually believable… Except that he probably caught on who Swithin is, Rick is far from being some idiot. No wonder he became a cop, he’s always had the intuition of a German Shepherd… And I can still tell when he’s lying too. I let out a faint sigh. What now? This is embarrassing.

“What about you?” He frowns.

“…Excuse me?”

“Isn’t it odd you’re in your uncle’s office when he’s not here?”

“This is my uncle’s office, and as you can see from this portrait of me, he doesn’t exactly hate me either. I’m waiting for him to come back here.”

“Great, then we can both wait for him here.”

Oh, shit. Shouldn’t have said that. The worst part is that I can hear stupid Bart giggling secretly from the other side of Swithin’s resting room, the bastard. I glance around, trying to find something. Swithin’s not coming back, but I can still use that time and face Rick to dissuade him from sniffing that trail or something. Not that I don’t want to just keep chatting with him casually… This whole situation is unreal anyway.

“What is your relationship with Mr Williams?” I ask coldly.

“Still no obligation to tell you.”

“My uncle has nothing he hides from me, so you would save us both time and some awkwardness.”

He hesitates. He’s trying to glance left, right, but his eyes always end up coming back to me. I can almost read the doubt in his eyes… and it’s making me confused and uncertain too. I’m torn between being glad I can see him again, talk to him again as if nothing happened between us, and being horribly disappointed that things are like this. A selfish part of me wishes he knew, wishes I could tell him everything, and apologize for what I did. Of course, I’m also terrified, and probably somewhat mad.

“…Mr Williams is a suspect in an investigation I’m currently working on. I need to ask Mr Swithin if he knows about this individual.”

“What kind of investigation?” I ask immediately.

“…That’s confidential too.”

Shit, he’s really not giving anything away.

“Why not interrogate him before? It’s strange you’re trying to see my uncle now, when Mr Williams was here just minutes ago.”

“I had bad timing.”

Bad timing my butt, Rick. I glance at the window. How long until Lancelot comes in? I’m suffocating here… I try to think of something, anything that I could distract him with. No, actually, I should probably have him leave. I turn around, and pretend to go and get my phone from behind Swithin’s desk, where he can’t see my hands moving; I’m thankful for my new found vampire dexterity.

“…Seems like my uncle won’t be back for a while,” I lie, pretending to read a text. “He’s busy with a client.”

“You mean with Mr Williams.”

I shrug. After all, Hera supposedly doesn’t give a shit about Charles Williams. What do I do now? I need him talking. Not only does Rick probably already have some suspicions, but maybe he’s looking for proof Charles killed me, too. I smile, careful to keep my fangs hidden behind my lips, and move around the desk to sit on its front, showing off my long legs. Rick can’t help but glance at my exposed skin, but quickly looks away.

“You have me curious now, Agent Rivera. What could Mr Williams have done that you need to interrogate his lawyer?”

Much to my disappointment, this seems to give him an idea.

“What does he need your uncle’s services for?”

“How about you answer my question first?” I hiss, a tad annoyed.

“I’m the cop here.”

“This is not an interrogation room, neither am I a suspect, as far as I know. So, let’s make a deal. If you answer my questions, I’ll happily answer yours. I heard everything Mr Williams and my uncle told each other. Aren’t you interested?”

“What are you doing,” whispers Bart, not happy with this.

If he wants to help, he can step out and get me out of this mess instead of hiding. I pretend I heard nothing, and neither did Rick, obviously. He’s busy thinking. Damn, he’s doing that thing where he rubs his stubble with his index finger when he’s thinking… I can’t believe he kept that habit after all these

years; I always found it quite cute. I want to touch his stubble too… Hell, I want to run to him. He has changed, but for the better. The last of his scrawny teenager looks are gone, he’s now a full-grown man, with a strong jawline and firm muscles, looking handsome and delicious…

Delicious? Oh, for fuck sake, Hera, don’t you dare think about it! Keep your appetite in check! …Except that it’s too late. I recall Rebecca’s and Cecily’s words, and now the can of worms is bloody open. My stomach’s reaction subtly changes, and my fangs are tingling. Oh, hell no, no, no, girl, keep the fangs in check. I push my sunglasses back up on my nose, hoping I can hide the horrible hunger that’s surging. Worse, Rick’s still staring at me, and I try to keep my eyes on him, but I subconsciously leave my eyes to go down on his body, guessing the new lines of his muscles, the firm flesh and warm blood underneath his clothes…

“Fine,” he answers, dragging me out of my hellish thinking. “I’m investigating his ex-fiancé’s death. Did they mention this at all?”

“They did, but I’m pretty sure it was a suicide. The media also said the same thing.”

Come on Rick, tell me what you’re really trying to do here.

“The media doesn’t always report the truth,” he retorts right away. “They say what they are told to. I believe there are some loopholes in his fiancé’s death, that I would like to clarify.”

“What loopholes then?”

He grimaces, but we both know it’s my turn to ask a question.

“Some things that just don’t make sense,” he grimaces. “His fiancé was diagnosed with heavy depression but she was left alone for a long time. How long it took for him to find her. How he never even tried to call her for six hours.”

“…He didn’t try to call her?”

I had forgotten about that… But wait, I didn’t even have a phone, so it doesn’t count. There was the hotel’s line, I guess, but…

“He left his fiancé alone for hours with no means to contact any emergency number in case something happened to her,” he continues. “Aside from depression, many things could have happened, but there was no way to contact the outside world for J- his fiancé.”

So Rick’s got his own doubts too… What I don’t get is how he got to investigate this. If he really is a New York City cop now, why the fuck did he follow Charles all the way here? Why not simply summon him for a proper interrogation? I’m already surprised there’s a criminal investigation going on… Then, it hits me.

There’s no investigation. That’s it. Rick’s investigating this on his own, not officially in any way. That’s why he broke into Swithin’s office, and tried to get to Charles at the airport. He’s not here because of his duty as a cop, he’s here because this is about… me. I gasp internally. Shit, this is all so much worse. He’s here on his own then, to investigate. He’s got no colleague accompanying him. No one would know if I… Shit, no, Hera, don’t. Drop it. I glance at the door. Where the fuck is Lance?!

“What does Charles Williams have to do with your uncle?” He asks. “I found no trace of them knowing each other before he came to London. He has his own team of lawyers, so what brought him here?”

“Some inheritance thing,” I shrug, trying to act composed and uninterested. “She had a place here or whatever that should be her husband’s now.”

“…Her husband?” He grimaces.

He looks absolutely disgusted, which, honestly, is pretty much the same reaction I had the first time. I’m just as grossed out, but I can’t help but think it wouldn’t be a bad thing for Rick to look into this too. He’s

already nose-deep into this… It can’t be bad to let him know, right? It’s still better than letting Charles get away with that made-up crap. There’s got to be some corrupt official that helped him with this.

“…She wouldn’t have actually…”

Hold a second, he doesn’t actually believe I agreed to it? For fuck’s sake, Rick! …Shit, how do I let him know?

“Are you sure?” He asks, frowning.

“Well, it sounded like some half-official thing. I didn’t really understand the details, they mentioned a proxy thing.”

“Proxy?”

Yes, Rick, use that sharp brain of yours to figure it out, please… You know I wouldn’t have said yes, you have to believe me! While he’s lost thinking, my fangs tingle again. Shit, calm down Baby Vamp, he’s your ex, not a bloody meal…

“Babe! Are we good to go yet?”

I open my eyes wide as Bart suddenly walks in nonchalantly, smiling at me, and puts an arm around my shoulders. I’m too stunned. That’s when he finally decides to come back? Seriously? What the heck is he thinking! Then, he glances at Rick, as if he’d just noticed him. For a second, there’s this really, really strange tension in the air, and the two of them exchange looks. They couldn’t be more different… and they are staring for a bit longer than necessary too. Seriously? Why do I feel like I’m watching some male ego match…?

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were busy with someone… You alright, mate? You look like you saw a ghost.”

I have to give it to him, except for that low-blow joke, Bart knows how to act his part. With a hand in his pocket and his cool attitude, he looks like any young man out there… He casually combs his white hair back while Rick’s still staring, his jaw clenched, looking a tad annoyed.

“…We were just talking.”

“Ah, sorry about that. Baby, can we go now? I’m going to be late if we don’t get going… I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

He said that asking Rick, not me. Damn, he really has to be an ass until the end… Rick faintly shakes his head.

“My apologies, I must have held Miss Heartgraves longer than I thought.”

“Yeah, she has that effect on people,” Bart chuckles, planting a kiss on my cheek. “Right, Baby?”

I’m so deleting all his entries once we get home.

I smile faintly, and turn to Rick.

“I’m sorry, no more questions today, Agent Rivera. You heard the man. I’m going to have to ask you to leave first, though. I doubt my uncle would approve of you staying in his office while he’s gone.”

“Of course.”

He suddenly walks up to me, and I can feel my heart jumping mountains in my chest. I try to remain composed, nonchalant, thankful for Bart’s arm grounding me. A second later, he steps up to me. Close. Way too close, dangerously close… I have to hold my breath, and I’m sure Bart notices too. It only lasted a second, he left a business card on Swithin’s desk.

“Please let your uncle know he can call me anytime,” he says. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He gives me one last glance. A long, troubled and troubling stare, that lasts the longest two seconds of my life. Then, he turns around and quickly walks out. I wait until the door is completely closed behind him before finally breathing, completely worn out.

“…Damn it,” I grumble. novelbin

“You’ve really got the fang for that guy, uh, Baby Vamp,” Bart notes.

I ignore him and grab the card Rick left. There’s his full name, plus the NYPD sign, criminal investigation division… So it was real. He’s a NYC cop now… What has happened to him since we split ways? I’m dying to know.

“…His name is Patrick?” Bart scoffs.

“He hates it. He always went by Rick,” I sigh.

I put the card in my pocket, which doesn’t elude Bart.

“Baby Vamp, you do know you should not see your ex again, right? …That guy’s sniffing way too close to us, at the moment.”

“I know. I’m not happy he’s investigating my death either, but for now, this is the best way we have to investigate Charles.”

“I thought we were investigating,” he retorts, taking his arm back to face me. “Seriously? You want your cop ex to get the job done now?”

“Bart, drop it,” I groan, annoyed. “You heard all of it, Rick’s already on this. If I try to stop him, he’ll only get more suspicious. I’m just letting him find the truth about my death. …I owe him that at least.”

“But it’s not your death that this is about, is it?”

…I can only answer him with a glare.