Page 85 of Powerful Deception
When I push the door, I’m instantly hit with everything that is Dante.
His scent. His personality. Everything that makes him the man that he is, the man that melts me every time I’m in the same room as him, everything is in this room.
Taking a deep breath, I walk into the room, leaving the door slightly open just in case one of the kids needs me.
I ignore the picture frames that adorn the room. I ignore the massive collection of books that seems to reach all the way to the ceiling. I ignore it all and head straight to the computer.
Dante texted me the password when he left this morning, so I type it in and a second later, I’m in.
I just logged into the computer that belongs to the boss of the Chicago mafia. Now I really want to puke.
Quickly, I find the document hum and start looking through all the file names waiting for something to pop out.
The only thing that stands out to me though, is the fact that every single file on this computer is labeled by a set of numbers.
Numbers that mean absolutely nothing to me, but might mean everything to Dante.
I click on a random file and instantly get asked for a password. Of course, they are password encrypted and knowing Dante, each file has a different password.
Giving up on the documents, I look at the internet history and again that gives me nothing.
Why I thought someone like Dante Rosetti would keep his most important documents ready for me to find is beyond me.
Logging out of the computer and shutting off, I start to look around the office from where I sit in the office chair.
Everything looks a little bit too clean to be an office, especially one that is used frequently. There has to be something that was left out by accident or at the very least put somewhere so it can be worked on later.
I start pulling at the desk drawers, checking to see if they are looked and by some miracle they aren’t.
The top drawer is filled with office supplies. Pens, pencils, crayons that I’m sure belong to the kids, staples. Nothing useful.
I move to the second drawer and I instantly regret opening it. There are picture frames in this drawer but it’s the one that lays on top that has me regretting everything.
The frame contains a picture of a woman with a beautiful smile and dark hair that is styled perfectly in waves that frame her face beautifully. She looks absolutely gorgeous and as I look into her eyes, I know who she is.
Dante’s wife.
Her eyes are the same as her children. They are bright and a blue grayish color that I will never forget. The eye color is a complete contrast to her skin tone but it makes her unique and even more beautiful.
From what Evelyn has told me, she died less than a year ago, so why are her photos in the drawer? They should be around the house so that her kids can see her every single day. So they can live life and still see her beautiful smile as they go about their day.
Maybe I should bring it up to Dante.
As I continue to look at her picture, more guilt starts to form inside of me.
Not only am I looking for something to bring her husband, the father of her children down, but I’m also sleeping with the man. Not even a whole year since she passed.
She has to be looking down at me right now and thinking of ways to burn me alive from the grave for doing what I’m doing.
I’m such a horrible person.
Putting my feelings to the side, the picture frame goes back into the drawer, and I shut just as quickly as I opened it before moving to the third and final drawer.
This drawer is filled with green hanging files and each one has a manila folder in them. I brush through the labels on each file looking to see if one of them catches my eye.
Unlike the computer files, one of them does.
The one with the label, D J V.