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walked to the safe and tapped my nails against the black surface. It was a dial combination lock, and I had no idea what the hell the code could be. It wasn’t like Marcus had mentioned any lucky numbers while we’d fucked.
    Lost, I pulled the folded-up piece of paper Brigs had given me from my purse and sat on Marcus’ leather office chair to study it.
    It was mainly names, of family members I presumed, and only two numbers right next to each other. Dates, I realized, thirty-four years apart. I tried those first, with no luck.
    Come one, Evelyn. You can do this. What kind of numbers would a man like Marcus use to secure his belongings? I chewed on a fingernail as I stared at the safe for a few minutes. There were no clues in the office—it was as devoid of personality and decorations as the rest of his flat... Hang on.
    I let my gaze sweep over the list again, finding a familiar name again. Aidan. His nephew—and the only family member who had made it into a picture frame in Marcus’ home. What was that date at the bottom of that frame?
    I swiveled the chair back into position and half-jogged back to the living room, doing my best not to wince for each step. The reminder of what I’d spent the night doing was impossible to ignore. Guess that’s what I got for breaking almost a year’s worth of a dry spell with a stallion-sized ride rather than something a little more beginner-friendly.
    The light from the city offered enough of a glow for the quiet living room that I could easily navigate my way to the picture frame without turning on the lights. I picked it up, glancing at the cute baby before zeroing in on the date below the picture. The first of August 2015.
    I hurried back to Marcus’ office, doing my best to ignore the sense I was betraying someone much too good for me, and hunched over in front of the safe. Backing out now was going to do nothing but get me into some serious trouble with Brigs.
    01-08-2015.
    The clink of metal pins sliding into place from the safe’s locking mechanism sent a little jolt through me and I bit the inside of my cheek as I pulled the heavy door open and looked inside.
    There was a small pile of papers in the safe, a passport, and a couple of piles of fifty pound notes, along with a pen drive. I reached for the pen drive and quickly closed my hand around it, relieved that I’d managed the task I’d been set.
    But just as I was about to close the safe, my eyes caught the piles of money again. There had to be nearly fifty thousand pounds in that safe.
    Apart from tonight, I had never stolen in my life. Not even a pack of gum. My mother had raised me right. But of course, my mother couldn’t have predicted I’d one day be under them thumb of mafia scum, paying back a loan I should never had accepted.
    If I paid Brigs back in cash, I’d never have to work for him again.
    The problem was, with my waitressing job, I would be in his debt for years to come. Maybe even a decade, the way he calculated interests. And here were stacks of money, right in front of me. If I took just £10,000 I could walk away from this job and never look back.
    I bit my lip as my gut clenched. But I’d be stealing them. From Marcus. And not because I’d been forced to, but for my own personal gain. There was a difference of morality, even if it probably wouldn’t technically be much worse than what I was already taking from him.
    My hand hovered over one of the stacks of bills as I gnawed on the inside of my cheek with indecision—until a chilling thought struck me. If I completed this job successfully, there was nothing to stop Brigs from making me do it again to some other guy.
    And I was pretty damn sure I wouldn’t be as happy about climbing into bed with whoever else he pointed at.
    I grabbed a stack of bills and quickly stuffed it into my purse next to the pen drive, zipped it close, and slammed the safe shut. Better a thief once than forced to steal and whore out my body indefinitely.
    After