I watch as Salvatore brings a disheveled man in his thirties inside, holding him by the arm and shoving him to sit on the other end of the couch. It's only when I look at the man closely that I notice how familiar he is, ignoring his crumpled clothes. He's from the accounting department of KMH, Ackerman, I think his surname is. What is going on here?
"You know him?" Giovanni asks, leaning against the backrest and then crossing his leg over the other in an elegant manner before taking a sip of his alcohol, the friendliness on his expression now gone, replaced with coldness and malevolence.
"Not personally. I just know he's from accounting. What's happening?" I swing my gaze from the man, to Salvatore, to Gio. "Why is he here?" I'm now growing nervous. If this man realizes who I am—which shouldn't be a secret, given I'm Keith's fiancée and he made it known right away—and word gets to Keith, I don't know what will happen.
