The Dark Secret of the CEO by Sofia de Orellana

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. What the fuck do I do? It’s far too late to move, he saw me. We’re literally standing perhaps six, seven feet away from each other, and staring at one another. My heart’s doing some horrible dance in my chest and just won’t fucking stop. What the heck is he doing here!

“…Can I help you?” I force myself to utter.

Posh, British accent, deep voice. I slip back into Hera’s role as if I was acting for a damn Oscar. Every single limb of mine gets into its role, and I’m trying to replay Benedict’s lessons at full speed. I have to act nothing like June, if there’s just the slightest bit of chance he recognized me… I stand tall, checking him out from head to toe – the heels definitely help – as if I was seeing him for the very first time, and slowly cross my arms as elegantly as possible, raising my chin a bit. I show nothing of my heart going absolutely crazy, the thoughts echoing loudly in my head.

“My apologies,” he says. “I was hoping to meet with Mr Heartgraves. Nobody was answering and the door was open…”

He definitely just made that up, I’m sure I heard him open that door. How did he force it in such a short time?

“Well, my uncle isn’t here,” I say, thankfully sounding much calmer than I am under the surface.

“Your uncle?” He frowns.

My god, the way his dark eyes are staring at me, I feel like I’m standing naked on a damn podium… A hot shiver runs down my spine, and I swallow down. I’ve never felt this hot in my whole human and vampire lives combined. Keep acting, don’t break the character…

“My name is Hera Heartgraves. And you are…?”

“…Agent Rivera.”

“Agent?” I ask, reminding myself I’m supposed to know nothing of him.

“I’m a cop.”

Yeah, except that you are a New York City Cop, not a London one. But then again, Hera is not supposed to know that… Shit, how do I keep doing this? Bart, you ass! I’m sure he just ran next door to hide and is listening to all this.

“What does a cop want with my uncle?”

“I don’t have to disclose that information to you, Miss Heartgraves.”

“You’re the one who trespassed.”

He seems to hesitate a little, glance around, and then suddenly goes back to me, tilting his head a little.

“…Do I know you?”

For half a second, I flinch. He could not have recognized me, he just couldn’t have. No way… In a sudden, genius split-second thinking, I point at my gigantic portrait on the wall.

“I am a model, Agent Rivera. Not that famous yet, but you might have seen me on some magazine cover.”

I have to pat myself on the back for that one. The not-so-humble bragging would have never been a thing of June’s… Rick glances at the portrait quickly while I try hard to decipher his expression. Yeah, he’s confused. Definitely confused. Does he have doubts, then? He’s scrutinizing that portrait for longer than I thought, going back and forth to the actual me. I don’t look like June, right? Perhaps I really dreamt that earlier…

“…Perhaps,” he mutters, not sounding convinced at all. “Are you familiar with Charles Williams? He seems to be a new client of your uncle.”

“How would you know that?”

“I just saw him leave this place.”

“Then you should have seen my uncle leaving with him.”

“I don’t know what Mr Heartgraves looks like. I assumed he was part of Mr Williams’ staff.”

Shit, it’s actually believable… Except that he probably caught on who Swithin is, Rick is far from being some idiot. No wonder he became a cop, he’s always had the intuition of a German Shepherd… And I can still tell when he’s lying too. I let out a faint sigh. What now? This is embarrassing.

you?”

“…Excuse me?”

your

you can see from this portrait of me, he doesn’t exactly hate me either.

can both wait for

shit. Shouldn’t have said that. The worst part is that I can hear stupid Bart giggling secretly from the other side of Swithin’s resting room, the bastard. I glance around, trying to find something. Swithin’s not coming

with Mr Williams?” I

no obligation

so

can almost read the doubt in his eyes… and it’s making me confused and uncertain too. I’m torn between being glad I can see him again, talk to him again as if nothing happened between us, and being horribly disappointed that things are like this. A selfish part of me wishes he knew, wishes I could

an investigation I’m currently working on. I need to ask Mr Swithin if he knows about this

of investigation?” I ask

“…That’s confidential too.”

he’s really not

It’s strange you’re trying to see my uncle now, when Mr Williams was here just minutes

“I had bad timing.”

until Lancelot comes in? I’m suffocating here… I try to think of something, anything that I could distract him with. No, actually, I should probably have him leave. I turn around, and pretend to go and get my phone from behind Swithin’s desk, where

while,” I lie, pretending to read a text. “He’s busy

mean with

suspicions, but maybe he’s looking for proof Charles killed me,

Rivera. What could Mr Williams have done

to my disappointment, this seems to give him

does he need your uncle’s

you answer my question first?” I hiss, a tad

“I’m the cop here.”

as I know. So, let’s make a deal. If you answer my questions, I’ll happily answer

whispers Bart, not happy

he can step out and get me out of this mess instead of hiding. I pretend I heard nothing, and neither did Rick, obviously. He’s busy thinking. Damn, he’s doing that thing where he rubs his stubble with his index finger when he’s thinking… I can’t believe he kept that habit after all these years; I always found it quite cute. I want to touch his stubble too… Hell, I want

the fangs in check. I push my

thinking. “I’m investigating

was a

what you’re really trying to

always report the truth,” he retorts right away. “They say what they are told to. I believe there are some loopholes in his fiancé’s death, that I

“What loopholes then?”

both know it’s

depression but she was left alone for a long time. How long it took for him to find her. How he never even tried to call her

didn’t try to call

But wait, I didn’t even have a phone, so it doesn’t count. There was the hotel’s

his fiancé alone for hours with no means to contact any emergency number in case something happened to her,” he continues. “Aside from depression, many things could have happened, but there was no way to contact the outside

too… What I don’t get is how he got to investigate this. If he really is a New York City cop now, why the fuck did he

investigating this on his own, not officially in any way. That’s why he broke into Swithin’s office, and tried to get to Charles at the airport. He’s not here because of his duty as a cop, he’s here because this is about… me. I gasp internally. Shit, this is all so much worse. He’s here on his own then, to investigate. He’s got no colleague

do with your uncle?” He asks. “I found no trace of them knowing each other before he came to

to act composed and uninterested. “She had a

“…Her husband?” He grimaces.

had the first time. I’m just as grossed out, but I can’t help but think it wouldn’t be a bad thing for Rick to look into this too. He’s already nose-deep into this… It can’t be bad to let him know, right? It’s still better than letting Charles get away

“…She wouldn’t have actually…”

it? For fuck’s sake, Rick! …Shit, how do I

you sure?”