The Traitor ✓ (Book Six)

Chapter Nineteen

"I'll call and let him know-" Maria sighs. Oh no. This is bad- given that I'm standing four feet away, breathing silently on purpose. It would be better for me to just knock on the wall, and act like they didn't hear me coming in because they were talking.

  But I only keep on eavesdropping.

  "No no. Don't let him know. Ask. This isn't a small request." Victor says. "He isn't a servant. He's an employee."

  I mean it's not like I have any plans for my life. So if  they ask me to start working twenty hours a day, I wouldn't object.

  I've had plenty of twenty three hour workdays, during secret service shortages. They told us it was extremely temporary and we would get twelve hours off after our shifts so we could sleep and eat, but it ended up lasting over a year because of how small that years graduating class was. They still refused to change their standards- which, as tired as I was I agreed with. The second they lowered the requirements would have been the second a protectee died.

  We all stuck it out, gorged ourselves on two days worth of food during one meal, and then slept for nine hours to recharge. And we all lost a lot of weight during that time, because we were moving constantly.

  The public was pretty upset about our hours, but the head of secret service told them this, which they ignored: Join us. If the hours upset you so much, join us.

  Very few did.

"Okay..." Maria finally replies. I hear her reaching into her pocket for her phone and finally snap out of it. I have maybe five seconds before mine goes off, letting them know I'm already here.

  So before she has the chance, I peek my head in and knock on the door.

  "Damon-" Victor smiles. "How are you doing?"

  "Well I'm not suicidal at the moment so I'd say pretty decent."

  "At the moment?" He nervously laughs. I forget that everybody doesn't find death jokes funny. Humor is a coping mechanism of mine.

  "Not that I ever was, I mean I was just.... Never mind."

  I stop myself from talking before I ruin everything. I can tell Victor's judging me in his head- out of concern, but it doesn't stop him from continuing.

"Well then... I'll get right to it. Maria is...moving out. I want you to-"

  Out of everything it could've been, I didn't expect that.

  "Follow her?" I accidentally interrupt, and I want to slap myself for it. For fucks sake, you don't interrupt your billionaire boss-

  "Kind of. He'd feel better if I weren't living alone." Maria answers.

  I notice how beautiful she is again, looking like she's just rolled out of bed. An inappropriate thought crosses through my head, one that scares me since we don't really know each other. I wonder if she'd- no.

  "You want me to move in with you?" I furrow my eyebrow in confusion. This isn't something final asked of security guards, unless it's listed in the job description. Employers usually understand we need our own places, our own lives outside of work.  Not that I mind- it's just an odd request.

  "Well there are two bedrooms in the apartment, of course." Maria catches my gaze, almost reading my mind from the way she's looking at me.

  "It's just...there are plenty of people out to get her and I own the building so...I'd feel more comfortable with that one." Victor says.

  Now I'm more confused. He doesn't have to give me his reasoning.

  The group's leaders never did. They told me how they wanted me to torture someone and what information to get, but they never bothered with an explanation. Neither did Lauren- secret service are only allowed to ask security related questions.

  "You don't ....... have to explain anything to me." I finally reply.

  "Right...." Victor nods. "I forget that sometimes. Is that a yes?"

  "It's more like a.... Whatever but sure." I clear my throat. Something else crosses my mind. "About my house-"

  "I'll pay the mortgage and a housekeeper as long as you're living in the apartment.... And you won't be charged rent." Victor replies.

  The group did not charge me rent for the tiny cot I slept in while at headquarters. Something that was never talked about at the trial or in the media was how loud everything was. There were the screams of course, but the machines and computers in command oops could be heard from one end to the other- which I find ironic since you can't hear anything else with the door closed.

  I feel the worst for the poor chef they forced into cooking for us. They were a five star that "went missing" simply because Princess ariyah had eaten their food before and liked it. Nobody explained anything to them either.

  Day in and day out, they cooked for group members- trapped and confused as to what they were doing there. They weren't dumb, so they probably had an idea- but they kept their mouth shut.

  "Oh that's too generous-" I start.

  "Not when you're boss is a multi billionaire. Now- can you move in three days from now?"

I step back. Three days isn't much notice at all. Then again, I was rotting in federal prison one day- then got a full time job in a country I'd never been to before three days after.

  I wouldn't mind having no bills. While affordable, the cost of living here is astronomical compared to prison.

  Having a housekeeper I don't have to pay sounds like a pretty good deal, too. On top of that I'll get to live somewhere that costs god knows how much, and let my money sit in the account to collect interest.

  If you didn't have anybody send you money to buy stuff.....Guantanamo bay was absolute hell. You'd trade what you could with your cell mate. I had nothing.

"Uhm...sure?"