SLEEPING WITH THE DEVIL

THE SHOWER

*CHAPTER 2: THE SHOWER*

*SLEEPING WITH THE DEVIL by Cassidy*

I stood in the middle of the Devil's bedroom in my black bra and maid skirt, holding my t-shirt in my hand like an i***t.

Killian Blackwood was sitting on the sofa, holding my gun, staring at me like I was something he wanted to eat.

"Put your t-shirt back on," he said suddenly.

"What?"

"You heard me. Put it back on. You look cold."

I stared at him. This man was insane. One minute he tells me to strip, the next he tells me to cover up.

I quickly put my t-shirt back on, my hands shaking.

He stood up and walked to the bar in the corner of his bedroom. He poured two glasses of whiskey, even though it was only 10 AM and he was soaked from the rain.

He handed one glass to me.

"Drink. You look like you're going to faint."

"I don't drink with killers."

"Then drink with your new boss. Rule number two: when I offer you something, you take it."

I took the glass because I was afraid he would point the gun at me again. The whiskey burned my throat.

He drank his in one shot.

"So, Elara Cruz," he said, saying my real name slowly. "Twenty-two years old. From Leyte, Philippines. NBI-Interpol. Brother Marco Reyes, my former driver. Dead for two years. You came here for revenge."

He knew everything.

"How do you know who I am?" My voice was shaking.

"Your brother was my driver for three years. He talked about you every day. My little sister is smarter than me, Boss. My little sister will be a cop someday. My little sister makes the best adobo." He looked at the fireplace. "I knew the moment I saw your file in the Interpol system two weeks ago. A Filipina agent with the same last name as my dead driver applying to be a maid in my house. How stupid do you think I am?"

"Then why did you let me in? Why didn't you kill me at the gate?"

He walked closer to me. Too close.

"Because I wanted to see you," he whispered. "Marco always showed me your picture. Seventeen years old, in your school uniform, with braces. You were ugly back then."

"What?"

"Now you are not ugly. Now you are... dangerous."

He reached out and touched my wet hair. I flinched.

"Your brother did not die because I ordered it, Elara."

"Don't you dare say his name!"

"He was like my brother too!" His voice rose for the first time, loud, angry. "He drove for me for three years! He took a bullet for me in Naples! You think I would kill him for $50,000?"

"Then who? The ledger says -"

"The ledger is fake," he cut me off. "My father wrote that ledger to trap the Moretti family. Marco found out my father was stealing from the Moretti. My father had him killed. Not me."

Lies. All lies.

"You think I will believe you?" I laughed, tears in my eyes. "You are a Blackwood! You are all killers!"

"Yes, we are killers," he said, his gray eyes locked on mine. "But we don't kill our own."

He went to the safe behind the painting of Lake Como and opened it. He took out a black notebook. He threw it on the bed in front of me.

"That's the real ledger. Look. Page 47."

I opened it with shaking hands. Page 47. Date: 08-15-2021. Marco Reyes. Order: Vittorio Blackwood (Father). Reason: He knows too much about the Sicilian shipment. Status: Done by Moretti.

It was not Killian's handwriting. It was older, shakier.

My brother was killed by his father. Not by him.

My legs gave out and I sat on the floor.

"Marco's last words to me were about you," Killian said quietly, sitting on the floor in front of me, not caring that his expensive suit was getting dirty. "He said, 'Boss, if I die, find my sister and tell her I'm sorry I didn't come home for her graduation.'"

I started crying. Hard. The kind of crying I hadn't done in two years. Since they sent me his ashes in a box.

Killian didn't touch me. He just sat there, watching me cry.

After five minutes, I wiped my face with my t-shirt.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you came here to kill me. And I don't want you to kill the wrong man."

He stood up and went to the closet. He threw a black t-shirt and sweatpants at me.

"Go shower. You smell like rain and fear. The bathroom is there. You have ten minutes. Then we will talk about how we will kill my father together."

"What?"

"You want revenge for your brother. I want revenge for my brother. Marco was my brother too. So we will work together. For 30 days, you are not my maid. You are my partner."

"And the rule? Every night I fail I take off clothes?"

He smiled, a real smile this time, small but real.

"That rule still applies. Because I like you in that bra."

"Pervert!"

"Yes. Now go shower, Little Spy. Or I will shower you myself."

I grabbed the clothes and ran to the bathroom and locked the door.

The bathroom was bigger than my whole apartment in Manila. Black marble. Gold faucet. A huge rain shower and a bathtub that looked out to the lake.

I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were red. My t-shirt was wet. My garter was still on my thigh, empty now because he has my gun.

I took off my clothes and stepped into the shower. The hot water burned my cold skin.

I was supposed to kill him today. Instead, I found out his father killed my brother.

And now the Devil was offering to help me kill his own father.

God, what did I get myself into?

When I came out of the bathroom ten minutes later, wearing his huge black t-shirt that reached my knees and his sweatpants that kept falling down, he was not in the bedroom anymore.

On the bed, there was a new maid uniform. But not the cheap one from the agency.

It was a black and white French maid uniform, short, with lace. And a note on top of it in messy handwriting.

_Wear this tonight for dinner. The Moretti family is coming. I want them to see what is mine. - K_

And under the uniform, there was my Glock 19, unloaded, with one bullet next to it.

_One bullet. If you still want to kill me after dinner, use it. - K_

I picked up the bullet. It was cold.

Tonight, the real killers of my brother were coming to dinner.

And I would be wearing a sexy maid uniform next to the Devil.