Hand in the Cookie Jar

Tommaso

On Friday morning after Paige’s therapy, I sat at my desk, tying up a few loose ends. I hadn’t heard anything from Tony yet, but if I had to guess, I’d say the bastard would keep me waiting as long as possible as some kind of punishment for making him show me his set-up in the first place. He definitely seemed to want the “product” I “had,” but he also seemed like a petty piece of shit.

The door to my office opened, and I looked up, expecting Miranda with the espresso I’d requested. Instead, Killian stepped in, wearing the sort of scowl I knew meant he wasn’t pleased. Part of me, the part that knew I was sitting in my own goddamn house running my own goddamn operation, wanted to demand what the hell he was doing here. The rest of me just saw my pissed-off boss—former boss.

Killian dropped into one of the leather armchairs across from my desk. “What the fuck have you gotten yourself into now?”

“What?” The tips of my ears warmed.

“I’m not stupid, Tommaso.” Killian plucked a pen