Page 22 of When She Unravels
It’s disgusting, but what De Rossi doesn’t know is that I’ve seen enough disgusting things to harden my stomach to steel.
I get to work. The cart has all the supplies I could possibly need. First, I sweep the floor, and then I get out the mop. When I open up the bottle of bleach, the smell makes memories come up, but I temper them down.
De Rossi’s voice floats into the room. “I can barely recognize you in that uniform, Romero. Had enough yet?”
I whirl around and land my gaze on De Rossi’s luxuriously suited form. Suddenly, I’m all too aware of the hair sticking to my damp forehead and the ill-fitting uniform made out of fabric that doesn’t breathe. He gives me a sardonic look, as if he thinks all he has to do is nudge me a bit and I’ll break.
“Not at all,” I say, giving him a tight smile. “This has been a great day so far.”
His lips twitch, and he peers down at the floor of the room. “You missed a bit here.”
“Where?”
“Right here.” He points. “Quality, Romero. I don’t hire people who half-ass their work.”
He wants to humiliate me. Go right ahead. After the things I’ve done for Lazaro, I don’t have any pride left.
I lower to my knees in front of De Rossi, making sure to keep that smile frozen on my face. “Thank you for your feedback. I’ll get it taken care of.”
His expression shifts, and for a moment, he looks kind of disturbed. Or maybe he’s just disappointed his negging is not having the effect he was hoping for.
I grab a rag and start rubbing at the spot. There’s some perverse part of me that’s enjoying this entire thing. Let’s be frank here, I want to live, but I know I’m scum. A murderer, a torturer, a morally bankrupt coward. I’ll never forgive myself for what I did to those people, criminals or not.
If De Rossi wants to lay it on even thicker, he can go ahead. He can’t break someone who’s already broken.
There’s a sudden tightness in my throat. I swallow past it and force myself out of my head. I better distract myself with something. “I thought things like you only come out at night,” I say. I’m still getting used to my ability to talk back to him. Despite him holding my fate in his hands, he doesn’t scare me like Lazaro or Papà.
“Things like me?”
“Demons, vampires, soul-sucking Dementors…”
He chuckles. “I see. You’ve elevated me to something superhuman. Do I really strike you as so formidable?”
“You would take that as a compliment,” I grumble as I get back on my feet. “How’s that? See any other spots I missed?”
De Rossi smooths his hand over his tie. “You sure this is the kind of work you want to be doing?”
I dip the mop in the bucket before squeezing it out in the plastic basket. “This work suits me just fine.”
“Let’s see if that’s how you feel by the end of the week,” he says, pulling a protein bar out of his pocket and tearing it open.
Honestly, I’m surprised. He didn’t strike me as the snacking type, but I guess he’s got to maintain all that muscle somehow.
For some time, he just stands there, leaning against the bar and watching me work while he eats.
My stomach emits a loud growl. I was so anxious this morning, I skipped breakfast.
De Rossi hears it. “Hungry?”
I heave a sigh. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
He approaches and stops very close to me. My stomach tightens when he raises his bar to my lips. “Here.”
I eye the protein bar. I would have asked if it was poisoned if I didn’t just see him take a bite.
He cocks a brow. “Open your mouth. I can’t have my employees passing out on the job.”
“Open my mouth? What are you going to do, feedungh—”
