When he heard those words, he didn’t respond, but his jaw tightened. Both of us knew the truth. He hated black coffee, yet I’d always forced him to drink it.
I knew that it would help him to endure the stress of our dangerous world. This morning, I chose not to care.
I ignored his darkening gaze and downed my cup in one swift gulp. Then I placed my plate in the sink and grabbed my bag.
“Let me take you to the office.”
I didn’t wait for his permission as I walked toward the door.
From behind, I heard him offering me to work, but I dismissed it as my imagination. To be honest, Christopher never bothered to share a car with me.
We’d been together for eight years and used to go side by side. Undoubtedly, our relationship had grown cold. It seemed like it was just another transaction in this bloody business.
The Office
By the time I arrived at the Wilson Headquarters, the whispers had already begun.
The sleek, glass-walled building was a front for one of the most dangerous criminal empires in the city.
Every cubicle was guarded by Christopher’s men in disguise. Their sharp eyes were constantly scanning for threats.
Minutes later, Christopher arrived. He stepped out of the black luxury car with his secretary, Scarlett. Her soft laughter echoed through the lobby. It grabbed the attention of every pair of eyes.
Scarlett. The thorn in my side.
The whispers grew louder as Christopher walked with her into the building. Everyone there knew we were a couple, but Scarlett’s presence had begun to blur the lines.
Christopher was involved with her in ways he never was with me. He used to give her rides, share meals, and even grant her access to his restricted areas.
Ignoring them, I made my way to the public area, where the communal printer was located.
I was just copying documents and pretended not to notice the glances my colleagues threw my way. They wanted a show, a spectacle—a sign that I was cracking under the weight of Scarlet's growing influence.
But I refused to give them the satisfaction.
The whispers grew bolder as I walked past two of the subordinates.
“Ms. Levy is too cold,” one of them muttered, loud enough for me to hear. “Men like women who are delicate, like Scarlett.”
By cold they meant that I never gave them gossip. Neither did I give them a show of my and Christopher's relationship.