I Mentioned the Beauty of the Head of Security in Front of the Boss — His Expression the Next Morning Frightened Me

On the day when I mentioned the beauty of his head of security in Blake Caruso’s presence, he locked the door and told me that from that day on I would be his shadow.

It was three in the afternoon. On the top floor of Caruso Holdings, only the sticky sound of the keyboard could be heard — the coffee spilled in the morning was still clinging to my fingers. I had been working nonstop for eight hours, but Blake had not even raised his head from my desk.

“Bella, to my office,” his calm voice sounded from the intercom.

I took the files and went in. Beyond the windows, the city looked like his property, while a red folder lay on his desk.

“The Castianos contract?” he asked me.

“Signed. They tried to retreat on the coastal conditions, but I reminded them of the termination clause.”

“And the security report?”

“Bryce brought it. Everything is clean.”

Blake raised his head.

“Bryce brought it?”

Something changed in his voice. His fingers slowly tapped the silver pen lying on the desk.

“At noon. He works very thoroughly. He is professional. Competent.”

“He is handsome too, isn’t he?”

The words came out of my mouth as if they were someone else’s voice. Silence descended in the room.

“I’m speaking objectively,” I added quickly. “His facial features are very even.”

Blake stood up. His shadow reached me across the marble floor.

“Even features,” he repeated. “How observant you have been.”

“I simply have eyes.”

His jaw tensed.

“Do you often assess my employees like this?”

“I am your secretary, not a nun. If I consider one person handsome, it is not a crime.”

“Careful, Bella.”

For the first time he called me by my name. This was more frightening than his severe tone.

“Bryce’s face has nothing to do with my work,” I said. “I am more interested in my salary.”

Something resembling a smile appeared on his lips.

“Then you would be pleased by a promotion. From tomorrow you are my personal assistant. Wherever I go, you come.”

“That is not a promotion, it is imprisonment.”

“The salary will be doubled.”

The answer stuck in my throat. My mother’s treatment bills, my debts, and the rent for the apartment came back to me all at once.

“Are trips included too?” I asked.

“Chicago, Miami, and then abroad. You will write everything down.”

“And if I refuse?”

Blake lowered his head.

“I will accept your resignation. But know this, Bella: what is mine stays with me.”

“I am not yours.”

“You have not decided that yet,” he replied.

I was approaching the door when he stopped me again.

“Stay away from Bryce. This is not a request.”

When I returned to my desk, my hands were trembling. From the drawer I took out a small copper key — with a red-enamel bird, which my father had given me in childhood and told me never to lose before his death. I did not know what it opened, but I always carried it with me.

The phone lit up. It was an unknown number.

“Be ready at six tomorrow morning. And trust no one.”

I was running my hand over the message when the sound of a heavy object falling came from Caruso’s office. I went to the door. Inside stood Blake, holding my folder — the one I had left on my desk in the morning.

He looked into my eyes and slowly opened the folder’s clasp…

Inside the folder lay only one photograph. It was my father, photographed twenty years earlier, beside Blake Caruso’s father.

“Where did you find this?” I asked.

“It was in your bag.”

“There has never been such a photograph in my bag.”

Blake handed me the photograph. On the back, in my father’s handwriting, was written: “If Bella finds this, let her not trust the Carusos.”

My whole body froze.

“Did my father know your family?”

“Better than he should have.”

Someone knocked on the door. Bryce entered, unusual tension written on his face.

“Blake, a notification came from the city archive. Someone requested the old documents of Bella’s father’s case.”

“Who?” I asked.

Bryce looked first at Blake, then at me.

“The request was in your name.”

“I did not request it.”

Blake clenched the photograph in his fist.

“You will not leave this room until we find out who is dragging you into this.”

“Are you in the same game too?”

For the first time in his eyes I saw not anger, but fear.

“That is exactly what I am trying to find out.”

At that moment Blake’s phone rang. He listened, his expression changed, and he told me:

“Your mother has been taken from the hospital. Whoever took her left one word: ‘The key’…”

Blake barely pronounced the word, but I was already running toward the door. Bryce blocked my way.

“If you go outside, you will walk straight into a trap.”

“My mother is there!”

“That is why you must trust me.”

It was five in the evening. In the underground parking lot of the Caruso building, the lights were flickering, and wet tire tracks could be seen on the concrete floor. Blake opened the door of a black car.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked.

“To a safe place.”

“I want to find my mother, not carry out your orders.”

“If you cannot restrain yourself, you will lose another person before your eyes.”

There was such truth in his tone that I fell silent.

Bryce sat behind the wheel. Ten minutes later we stopped at an old customs warehouse. Inside there was only one table, two chairs, and an iron safe. The clock hanging on the wall struck six.

“Now tell me everything,” I said.

Blake took a sealed envelope from the safe.

“My father left this for me. He told me to open it only if you ever started working at my company.”

“Why me?”

“Because your father was our family’s accountant. He discovered that my uncle, Lorenzo, was planning money laundering and bribing witnesses. My father hid the evidence. But before he could tell the truth, he was killed.”

I grasped the chair because my knees gave way.

“You knew who killed him?”

“I knew Lorenzo’s people had done it. I could not prove it.”

Bryce said quietly:

“Now we can.”

Blake opened the envelope. Inside were a list written in my father’s hand, bank transfers, and a small memory card.

“My father recorded all this,” he said. “On the night he was killed.”

Bryce turned on the device. My father’s tired voice sounded in the warehouse.

“If this recording is being heard, I am already dead. Lorenzo Caruso knows that he cannot control Blake. Therefore his next target will be my daughter. The key will open the safe where the second copy is kept.”

The copper key burned in my hand.

Blake looked toward me.

“That is why I hired you. Not because you are my property. I wanted to be close to you while Lorenzo found you.”

“And Bryce?”

“Bryce secretly works for me. His appearance and your irritation were not accidental. We wanted to see who would react to you.”

This answer hurt me more than the lie.

“You should have spoken to me like a human being.”

“You are right.”

For the first time Blake lowered his head.

At that moment the phone rang. The hospital’s number was visible on the screen. I answered.

“Mrs. Morgan, your mother woke up a few minutes ago. She said that Lorenzo Caruso’s lawyer was in her room and told her something about you.”

“What did he tell her?”

The nurse lowered her voice.

“He said that your father’s second safe has already been opened. And the document taken from it will be handed over to the police this evening…”