He sat in his study at the packhouse, the room dimly lit as the glow from the surveillance screens flickered across his face. Almost absentmindedly, he pulled up the live camera feed only for his focus to sharpen instantly.
There she was.
Entering his study.
His eyes narrowed, suspicion coiling tight in his chest. How the hell had she gotten the keys?
He switched to another camera angle, watching closely as she moved toward his desk. His jaw clenched when she began opening drawers, rummaging through them until she finally found her phone.
So that was it. She'd been looking for her phone.
But then
His expression darkened.
She didn't stop there.
She went through his files.
A surge of anger burned through him as he watched her flip through documents she had no business touching. He knew exactly what was in those files things he never kept anywhere else. Anything tied to the mafia stayed locked away in that study at the mansion.
And now she had her hands on them.
