The Mafia King's Forbidden Desire

The office smelled like burnt coffee and someone's leftover fish from lunch. Amelia saved the spreadsheet and finally allowed herself to lean back in her chair. Ten hours. She had been staring at numbers for ten straight hours, and her eyes felt like they were going to fall out of her head.

 Her phone buzzed against the desk.

 Mom: Did you send the money? Your father is asking.

 Amelia's jaw tightened. She had sent money three days ago. Five hundred dollars she could barely afford, transferred without a single thank you.

 She typed back quickly. Already sent it Monday.

 No response came. It never did.

 Amelia shoved her phone into her bag and stood up, stretching her back until it cracked. The office was nearly empty now. Most people had left by six. It was almost eight. She should have left hours ago, but the Morrison account needed to be perfect. Her boss had hinted at a promotion last month, and Amelia was determined to prove she deserved it.

 "You're still here?"

 Jennifer from HR was walking past, coat already on, clearly on her way out.

 "Just finished," Amelia said with a tired smile.

 Jennifer shook her head. "They don't pay you overtime, you know."

 "I know."

 "Then why stay?"

 Because working late meant she was valuable. It meant she mattered. It meant maybe, eventually, someone would notice how hard she tried.

 Amelia just shrugged. "I wanted to get it done."

 Jennifer gave her a look that was half pity, half concern, then walked away.

 Amelia packed up her things slowly. Laptop. Notebook. The coffee mug she had been refilling all day. She was exhausted, but it was Friday. She could sleep in tomorrow.

 The elevator ride down was silent except for the mechanical hum of the cables. When she stepped outside, the Seattle cold hit her immediately. March was miserable here. Wet and gray and the kind of cold that soaked into your bones.

 She walked to her car, tossing her bag into the passenger seat.

 Her stomach growled.

 Amelia checked the time. Marcus was probably hungry too. She had texted him earlier saying she would be late, but she had not heard back. He was probably gaming or watching something.

 On impulse, she pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the Thai place two blocks from their apartment. Marcus loved their pad thai. Maybe surprising him with dinner would be nice. They had not really spent quality time together in weeks.

 The restaurant was busy, but she got the food quickly. Pad thai for him. Green curry for her. Spring rolls to share.

 Amelia paid and headed back to the car, the warm bag sitting on her lap as she drove. The smell made her stomach growl again. She had skipped lunch today again.

 Traffic was light, made it home in fifteen minutes.

 The apartment building looked the same as always. Ordinary. A little run down but affordable. She had lived here with Marcus for two years now. It was home.

 Amelia grabbed the food and her work bag, juggling both as she locked the car. The elevator took forever, like always. When it finally dinged on the third floor, she stepped out and walked down the familiar hallway.

 Their door was the fourth on the left.

 She fumbled with her keys, balancing the takeout bag against her hip. The lock clicked. The door swung open.

 "Marcus?" she called out, stepping inside. "I brought dinner."

 No answer.

 The living room was empty. TV off. His jacket was tossed over the back of the couch, so he was definitely home.

 Amelia kicked off her shoes and set the takeout on the kitchen counter. Maybe he was in the bedroom. Maybe he had his headphones on.

 She walked down the hallway, still holding her work bag.

 The bedroom door was halfway open.

 "Marcus, I got Thai food from that place you like"

 The words died in her throat.

 Marcus was in bed.

 He was not alone.

 Amelia stood frozen in the doorway. Her brain tried to process what her eyes were seeing, but it did not make sense. Nothing made sense.

 Because the person in bed with Marcus was not some random woman.

 It was Derek.

 Her best friend Derek.

 They were tangled together in sheets she had washed two days ago. Skin against skin. Intimate in a way that left no room for misunderstanding.

 For a moment, nobody moved.

 Then Marcus looked up.

 His face went completely white.

 "Amelia."

 Her work bag slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a dull thud.

 Derek scrambled to pull the sheet higher, his eyes wide. But he did not look shocked. He looked caught.

 There was a difference.

 "What" Amelia's voice came out strangled. She tried again. "What is this?"

 Marcus sat up, running both hands through his hair. A nervous gesture. One she had seen a thousand times.

 "Amelia, I can explain."

 "Explain what?"

 Silence.

 Derek would not look at her. He stared at the wall, his jaw tight.

 Marcus opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

 "I didn't want you to find out like this," he finally said.

 Find out.

 Like this was something that had been happening. Something ongoing.

 Amelia felt her knees go weak.

 "How long?"

 Marcus hesitated.

 "How long, Marcus?"

 He exhaled slowly. "Eight months."

 The number hit her like a fist to the stomach.

 Eight months.

 Eight months of him pulling away. Eight months of her asking what was wrong. Eight months of her wondering if she was not attractive enough, not interesting enough, not enough.

 And the whole time, he was with Derek.

 "I'm gay," Marcus said quietly. Like that was supposed to make it better. Like that explained everything. "I've been trying to figure it out. I didn't know how to tell you."

 Amelia stared at him.

 "So you figured it out in our bed?" Her voice sounded hollow. Distant. "With my best friend?"

 Derek flinched but still did not look at her.

 Marcus stood up, wrapping the sheet around his waist. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

 "You're sorry."

 "Yes."

 "You're sorry you hurt me. Or you're sorry I caught you?"

 He did not answer.

 Amelia looked at Derek. Really looked at him.

 Five years of friendship. Five years of late night conversations and shared secrets and him telling her she deserved better than the way Marcus had been treating her lately.

 He knew.

 The whole time she was crying to him about feeling unwanted, about Marcus being distant, about wondering what she was doing wrong, Derek knew exactly why.

 Because he was the reason.

 "Did you plan this?" she asked, her voice eerily calm. "Or did you just accidentally fall into bed together for eight months?"

 Derek finally looked at her. "Amelia"

 "Don't." She held up a hand. "Don't say my name like we're still friends."

 "We are friends"

 "Friends don't do this."

 The silence that followed was suffocating.

 Marcus stepped toward her. "Can we talk about this? Please?"

 Amelia took a step back.

 Everything in the room felt too bright. Too sharp. The edges of her vision were going dark.

 She had walked into this apartment thinking about pad thai and spring rolls.

 And now her entire life was disintegrating in front of her.

 Three years with Marcus. Five years of friendship with Derek.

 All of it built on lies.

 "Get out," Marcus said suddenly.

 Amelia blinked. "What?"

 "This is my apartment. I need you to leave so we can figure this out."

 The words did not compute at first.

 He was kicking her out.

 She had just caught him cheating, and he was telling her to leave.

 Something inside Amelia went very still.

 Very cold.

 She looked at Marcus. Really looked at him. At the man she had spent three years loving. The man she had imagined a future with.

 And she realized she did not recognize him at all.

 "Okay," she said quietly.

 Her voice didn't shake, and somehow that scared her more than anything else.

 She turned and walked out of the bedroom.

 Behind her, Marcus called her name, but she did not stop.

 She walked through the hallway. Past the kitchen where the Thai food was getting cold on the counter. Past the living room where they had spent countless nights watching movies.

 She grabbed her purse from the hook by the door.

 And then she left.

 The door clicked shut behind her.

 Amelia stood in the hallway, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat.

 She had nowhere to go.

 Her wallet was in her purse, but her phone was still in her work bag in the bedroom, with them.

 The elevator dinged down the hall.

 Amelia walked toward it, got inside, and pressed the button for the lobby.

 As the elevator descended, she caught her reflection in the metal doors.

 She looked exactly the same as she had twenty minutes ago, but everything had changed.