You Broke Me First

The Day

*Luciano's point of view*

*the warehouse*

Today is auction day. I haven't told Sofia that I'm going to be there, because I wanted it to be a surprise. I'm so proud of her, and everything she's done for herself. Being a model for Joshua Christiansen, and at the Du Pont auction... I can never express how happy she makes me. Today is not only auction day, but it's my task force's deadline for figuring out who our mole is.

Someone is giving Andrew inside information, and it's been a week, and I still don't know who. It infuriates me and consumes my mind, which I don't want it to. The only thing that can distract me from all the bad in my life is her. I think about her all the time. Seeing her is the highlight of my day, and being away from her makes me angry. So every morning when I kiss her goodbye, I leave for work with frustration and annoyance in my heart. Today is no different. Though, I had to leave extra early since I want to sort all my shit out before the auction. I snuck out quietly this morning because I didn't want to wake Sofia.

I sat at my desk, staring out the window with a cigarette in between my fingers. Just as I was getting particularly impatient, there was a knock on my door. I grunted for them to enter, then turned my chair to face the door. It was the head of the task force. He looked very nervous, similar to the last time he was in my office. He nodded at me, as a sign of respect, so I raised my eyebrows in response, before lightly placing the cigarette between my lips. He cleared his throat, then shook his head nervously, as he spoke.

"I'm afraid it's not good news, boss."

I looked up at him, waiting for him to elaborate.

"Whoever it is, they are very discreet. I've had my team monitoring this place since the last time we spoke. No one in or out of those doors has had a conversation that we don't know about. Except for the ones that take place in your office, of course," he said.

I sat there, thinking about what to do next. I didn't have a response from him. It's not the team's fault that this person is really good at being an asshole. But even so, my inner rage really wants someone to blame. As the tension inside me increased, I felt my arm instinctively reach for my firearm. I held myself back though; I wasn't going to shoot him, even though he's proven to be utterly useless thus far. Eventually, I just sighed, then took another pull off my cigarette, while pouring myself a drink. I shook my head and spoke firmly, the bud still resting between my lips. I shook my head in dissatisfaction with what he came to me with.

"Well keep fucking looking," I demanded. I didn't want to say more, I just wanted him out of my office before my self-control disintegrated.

He hesitated slightly, then nodded his head. I made direct eye contact with him, then looked straight at the door. He instantly got the message and left before I was forced to say anything more. The moment that the door closed behind him, I picked up my drink and whipped it at the wall beside me. Big shards of the fancy whiskey glass littered the floor of my office. The thought of my brother having the upper hand made me an ungodly level of angry.

I noticed my jaw hurting once I snapped out of the rush of fury. I was gritting my teeth together so tightly, that it even hurt to release. I walked across the room to the bar cart, which is where I left my phone. I instantly called the only person whose voice would settle my burning rage. The phone rang three times before her calming, soft, morning voice filled my ears.