Our Cruel Hearts

Chapter Eleven

I am still in complete disbelief of Mr Marbroi's threat when I lay down to sleep, days later. My brain can't comprehend it even though it should be able to. I was sent here for a reason, Mr Marbroi is involved with Alistair's business somehow, I need to figure that out. I'm thinking about Mr Marbrois words when the image of the file on his desk flashes in my mind. Is it suspicious to look through the file of a new employee? No. But am I going to overthink it anyway? Yes. 

My mind swarms with ideas, I need the file. I know exactly where employee files are kept, I have access to the archives. When I do my weekly file drop offs I can look for it. Or I could ask Meera to find my file for me, but then I run the risk of being outed. Why would I need my own file? 

I begin feeling restless and sit up, my blanket is thrown over my legs and I reach for my gun in my bedside drawer. I haven't had to use it yet, thankfully, but it was another delivery Luca made sure took place within my first couple days here. I run my fingers over it, the gun cold to my touch and a hole of yearning opens up in my chest. As much as I love being away from the constant conflict and mental challenge of being an assassin back home, I miss my family. I miss my morning shooting range sessions with Dominique, and my evening fighting with Wyden and Marcus. 

My mind begins reeling as rain pelts against my bedroom windows. The rain hasn't let up for days and I genuinely think the grumpy weather is starting to drive me insane. I need to get out of here. I suddenly remember Demi's advice, that maybe this job would be exactly what I needed to get over Marcus - I think I'm over him but Demi doesn't seem to agree with me. But it's what people always say, to get over someone, get under someone else. Not that I need to get over someone, but getting under someone else might just be the solution.

The only problem is that I haven't gotten out in days. Meera and I have been spending every evening after work in either her apartment or mine. We drink till we start slurring our words and begin telling the most embarrassing stories - stories that I hope never see the light of day - until we're both too drunk to find our way back home. It's been genuinely healing spending time with Meera. Aside from that, every morning for the past couple of days I've spent in the gym, making sure I've still got it. I haven't had any run-ins with Griffin or Liam - thank God. It's been dreadfully boring, and it shouldn't be. I'm in New York, I should be living it up as Dom said. An idea sparks in my mind, it's only 10pm, I'm sure the clubs are filling up right about now. I pull out my phone and search for clubs near me, Secrets. That sounds intriguing. I could call up Meera but I recall her telling me about a date she had tonight. And the fact that she hasn't shown up my door by now means she's having a good time, so calling Meera isn't an option. That's fine, clubbing on your own isn't all that bad, I hope.

I immediately get up and start getting ready, I haven't gotten ready for something in weeks so I go all out. I turn on my music and dance in the bathroom as I do my makeup, I throw on a little black dress and wonder if I should ditch the strap on dagger for a night. Can't risk that though, plus wearing a dagger in New York can't be all that suspicious. I've seen some weird things while I've been here. An hour later I've got a smokey eye and red lip and barely recognise myself when I look in the mirror. My dark hair has grown a lot. It now sits just under my shoulder blade and is messier than it usually is. I take a deep breath, stepping out of my comfort zone, it's necessary. Before I make my way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water I secure my dagger on my thigh, hidden just under the hem my dress and check my phone.

As I'm pouring myself some water I hear a faint knock at my door, it might be Meera. I head to open the door and I'm met with a set of familiar onyx eyes when I swing it open.