The Don's Accountant
[Leo]
"No, no, no! Mingau, let go of my shoe! I'm so late!"
I practically threw the food into my cat's bowl and bolted down the apartment hallway. Today was my first day as a junior analyst at Marchetti Enterprises. If I showed up late, HR would have my head before I even signed the probationary contract.
I sprinted through the streets, stumbled down the subway stairs on legs that seemed to have forgotten how knees worked, and by the time I finally reached the company's towering lobby, my heart was hammering like a samba drum line.
The building looked like a palace of glass and steel. People in obscenely expensive suits strode back and forth with serious expressions. Me, in my suit bought off the clearance rack at a shopping mall, I was a fish out of water.
I picked up the pace toward the elevators, gripping a cup of scalding coffee I'd grabbed on the corner.
"Wait! Hold the elevator, please!" I shouted, watching the brushed-metal doors begin to close.
By some miracle, I managed to shove my hand between them, triggering the sensors. I stepped inside with a sigh of relief, but the relief lasted exactly half a second.
The jolt of my clumsy entrance caught my left foot on the carpet. The world seemed to spin in slow motion. The plastic cup flew from my hand.
Splash.
The steaming brown liquid landed in a perfect arc across the chest of an immaculate white shirt.
I looked up. The blood froze in my veins.
The man in front of me could have been carved from marble. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair perfectly in place, gray eyes that radiated a terrifying coldness. His suit practically emanated power — along with an expensive cologne that was now mingling with the smell of two-dollar coffee.
"Oh my God! I'm so sorry, I'm really sorry!" I stammered, frantically yanking a crumpled tissue from my pocket and lurching forward to wipe his chest. "I'm such a klutz, I can pay for the dry cleaning, I—"
Before my tissue could touch the fabric, a large, firm hand closed around my wrist. The grip didn't hurt, but it was so unyielding that it paralyzed me instantly. An electric current shot up my arm.
"Don't touch me." His voice was a low whisper, sharp as a blade.
Behind him, two burly men wearing earpieces stepped forward, hands reaching inside their blazers as if they were about to draw weapons. Who walks around with armed bodyguards in an office building?
The gray-eyed man looked down at his ruined chest, then fixed his gaze back on me. I was a dead man.
"What's your name?" he asked, his voice terrifyingly calm.
"L-Leo. Leo Albuquerque... from the finance department."
He didn't respond. The elevator chimed, reaching the twentieth floor. The doors opened.
"Get out," he ordered, his eyes never leaving my face.
I didn't need to be told twice. I bolted out of there like my life depended on it. And honestly? I was pretty sure it did.
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