The Mess
745 Words
CADEN'S POV
I didn't sleep. I couldn't. The silence of my office was loud, filled only by the ticking of the clock and the ghost-taste of mint and copper on my tongue.
The door burst open at exactly 8:00 AM.
Asher marched in, his face pale and his hand clutching a tablet like it was a live grenade. He didn't say hello. He didn't ask how I was. He just threw the device onto my dark mahogany desk.
"You’re trending, Caden," Asher said, his voice tight. "And not for a good reason."
I looked down. The headline felt like a punch to the stomach.
TRISTAN GERALDINE ASSASSINATED: TYCOON CADEN CAUGHT IN TRYST AT CRIME SCENE.
Below the text was a grainy photo. It was us. Pinned against the brick wall. My hands were tangled in her hair, my face hidden as I pressed my mouth to hers. In another shot, I was dragging her toward my car, her silhouette small and panicked.
"The internet is eating this alive," Asher continued, pacing the room. "Top story: The death of the Geraldine heir. Second story: You and a 'mystery florist' having a secret affair in the middle of a bloodbath. The questions are already starting, Caden. Why were you there? Why were you making out with a random woman while a man was dying ten feet away?"
I felt the cold burn of rage in my chest. "I was trying to keep us from getting shot, Asher. I didn't have a weapon. It was the only way to hide my face."
"And how was that the first thing that came to your head?"
"I... I don't know, man."
"It doesn't matter what the truth is!" Asher snapped, stopping in front of me. "Tristan’s father is a close friend of your family. He’s grieving, and he’s dangerous. Right now, he’s looking for someone to blame. If he thinks you were there to oversee the hit on his son, he won't wait for a trial. He'll come for your head."
I stood up and walked to the window. The city looked peaceful, but a war was brewing.
"But it wasn't meant for his goddamn son," I muttered. "One of my boys made the shot and hit the wrong guy."
Asher looked confused. "So where did you find the girl?"
"She was a witness. She held onto the guy who made the shot. I thought she was an undercover cop. I planned to kill her too, but... something told me not to. I should have."
"Well, obviously," Asher said, rubbing his temples.
"And what are they saying about her?" I asked
"Alisa Jacobs? Her reputation is being dragged through the mud. They’re calling her 'The Rich Man’s Slut.' They think she’s the distraction that helped the killers get away."
I slammed my fist against the window frame. This was a total disaster. The Geraldine Empire wouldn't stop until they had blood. If I handed her over, I looked guilty. If I kept her hidden, I looked guilty.
"Why would you even think of handing her over?" Asher asked. "She knows the truth. She knows the person who fired the shot, and now she knows you. You should have ended this when you had the chance. You know witnesses don't live, Caden."
He sighed. "If the press finds out she’s missing or dead, you’ll be in bigger trouble. They'll come to you for answers. You need to protect her to protect yourself. We need a new narrative."
"And what stupid story could we give?"
"Let me think about it. Give me some time," Asher said, closing his tablet.
"And what do I do while you think?" I asked.
"You keep quiet. By the way, where is she?"
"In some abandoned apartment."
"Did anyone see you take her there?"
"No," I snapped. "I'm not that dumb."
"But you were dumb to leave her alive," Asher muttered. "Just keep her there until I think of something. You should go see her. Let her know what’s going on. Make her feel calm and safe—and try not to kiss her again."
"f**k you, asshole," I said, feeling irritated and for the first time almost defeated.
After a while, he left. I picked up my phone to call the apartment, just to check on the situation.
"Ciaran?" I said when he picked up.
"Yes, boss?"
"How is she?" I asked.
There was a long silence on the other end. "She's... she's gone, sir.”
- Writer
