The Garden of Eden

To Tell or Not to Tell

Carmine Giordano

Fate always makes it difficult to keep secrets.

I should be angry, or anything remotely close to that feeling. Relived is not what I should feel while looking at my bookies books. The end of our fiscal year has arrived meaning our bookies have to submit their books for review. I am normally not the one to deal with it, I have accountants for this who then send their reports to Eden for her to work her magic, but thankfully, through word of mouth, this book made it to me.

Outstanding balance: £154,016.91
Owed by Michael King

I never kept tabs on Edens brother, she would certainly have found out I knew her real identity if I did, but I probably should have. I'd heard snippets of his rebelling nature over the years. Now I have to confront Eden, not only about her true identity, but about how I have to kill her brother or be paid. We cannot bend the rules, I cannot, even for family. On the other hand though, I could send someone to deal with this quietly, no killing and potentially a full payment. That way my little advisor can remain Eden Worth and I can pretend I know don't she's Eden King.

I wonder if she'll be upset that I know? I've wanted to bring it up for so long and tell her how good of a job she did creating this identity, but I've just been in the field longer, I know more tricks of the trade. Her efforts were truly commendable.

"Neo, I need you to bring in whatever bookie is in charge of this book. Get him here as soon as possible." Neo, the only other person who knew the Wroth/King dilemma, and the man who recognized the name being passed up the chain of command. Thankfully someone else knew of Michael here or he would have been long dead.

"Ms. Worth is coming for the books tomorrow. She has everyone but London's report."

"Let me deal with her, just get the guy here." I have less that 24 hours to figure this out. Telling her everything is the last option, all the way below killing Michael. Maybe not below killing him, at the same place, a tiny bit lower maybe.

It's really quite selfish of me. My own agenda making me jump through hoops to avoid upsetting her. Irritating her I've become quite fond of, that little fiery mouth of hers I look forward to hearing and the scolding I take with pleasure. Upsetting her is the last thing I ever want to do though. I can't imagine seeing her in such a state. Would she cry? That would be the worst thing I have ever done. Making Eden King cry is a sin I hope I never commit.

I tucked the book away in the bottom drawer of my desk. Double checking it's locked just incase she comes looking for something. The hardest part about working with Eden is her lack of asking. She needs something, she takes it, she looks for it, she never asks or emails. Such an impatient little thing. I do know she won't be anywhere near here till tomorrow. I can guarantee she's knee deep in coffee and paperwork trying to hide millions of dollars through whatever business's she's created. She calls is reaping week. The week where we document what we reap from our work. She always laughs when she says it. She will not be pleased to be waiting for this report but she won't question it when I tell her I have to take care of something before it's complete. At least I hope. My little Eden does not have a strong stomach and the last thing she wants to hear about is the dirty work we have to do.

I on the other hand am much more comfortable with the dirty work than the paper work. How perfect we are together. In my mind more perfect in ways beyond work. One day, hopefully, she will agree with me.

The daydreaming was cut short by the blaring sound of my office phone. The only one who ever calls it is Eden. I hate the thing but I do love to speak with her.

"Good morning my little garden fairy."
"I am missing London's report. I need the number for the bookie he's not answering my email and the accountant says the books been sent back." Of course he's not. He's currently, hopefully, getting his shit together to see me, far from his phone where she can contact him and learn anything I don't want her to.

"We are in the middle of taking care of a little discrepancy in an account."
"Carmine."
"Eden." She must just be buzzing. "Meet me for lunch, I can't even imagine the last time you ate a real meal."

"You irritate me."
"I'll send a car for you at, say 11:00." Two hours still but I can wait. Maybe I'll even pick her up myself. God knows she'll give a driver hell just to make my life more difficult. She's a little spiteful when she's irritated and my staff is more than aware, also somewhat unwilling to tend to her during the reaping.

"I want the number of the bookie still. I will see you in a bit." The dial tone came through the receiver. She agreed, albeit probably less that willingly, it doesn't matter. Just as I put the phone down it rang again.

"Yes?"
"Stop calling me garden fairy."
"Never. I will see you soon." It was my turn to hang up on her. The name gets under her skin so easily but I love it. The irony in her name with the nickname, not to mention she'd be a perfect picture of a fairy. Slim, lithe, little body with sharp cheekbones and a pointed nose. Her eyes are so enchanting and cunning at the same time and her perfectly tumbling curls. The first time she walked into my office I thought I'd really reached the garden of Eden and boy was I ready to sin my way to hell.

My work was no where near complete when the time came to leave. I did end up sending a driver when I found out she was across the city working at home instead of at our office, which is odd given the time of year. Usually she's tearing the office apart and sending the others into spiralling despair with the work she has them doing. None the less at her home is where I prefer her. Safe, guarded and comfortable. She'd blow a gasket if she knew the floor below her apartment was occupied strictly by security. I wonder how long I can keep that hidden as well?

I let the valet park my car, taking my place on the steps of the building to wait for her. Her text from earlier letting me know she was on her way meant she should already be here. My foot tapped impatiently as I looked at the time again and again. I hate that anything could happen to her, that at any moment someone bold enough to cross me and my family could take her. It is never not a possibility, even with the measures I've taken to make sure it's as impossible as possible. Why she ever wanted to pursue a career in underground crime is a mystery to me still, but if she's wishes, I will always make it happen.

"Enzo, what took so long?"
"Ms. Worth needed to make a stop at the office." Work never rests with her.

"Enzo, I need these delivered to the accountant. Also tell him he's stupid." There is my little spite fire. Dressed beautifully in a white dress, her hair pulled back and lovely face free for me to look at. She wears a scowl like it's Bottega. "Say it like that as well, no being nice."

"Ah how I've missed you." Enzo departed before she even reached me. His instructions clear and hopefully delivered correctly.

"You always say that."
"I always miss you." I let my hands roam across her back. Brushing her silky hair away so I can feel the skin it hid. Her clothing always covers enough to be professional but I know the heat of Palermo gets to her. I love it. I am always able to touch her so closely, feel the warmth of her lightly tanned skin and the softness of it. "Our table is waiting." I nudged her forward, slipping the tips of my fingers under the fabric at her waist to keep her close.

"You'll order right?"
"For you, always." It's been years yet my little Eden has yet to really learn any Italian. I blame it on the fact that we operate in English. Translators were to much of a nuisance and the most common language between countries unfortunately is English. It doesn't help that I refuse to take her anywhere that would offer an English menu, I can't give up ordering for her. It feels like such an intimate thing, knowing exactly what she likes and how she likes it.

Oh Eden, if you knew how pathetic you truly made me.