71

Corey
Getting away from Stefano these days isn’t as easy a feat as it should be. I wouldn’t call him controlling, but he definitely likes to keep tabs on me.
We flew back today and he went straight to work, but I had to make up a story about meeting a friend for dinner to get him off my back.
I quickly pack the suitcase of cash we brought back into a duffel bag and make the call. In a way, I’m still riding the wave from yesterday. It’s like I can see all the possibilities and how they will shape up. I know just how to play each situation. I know just what to say to put Stefano at ease, and I know just what to say to my dad. I keep the call short, urgent and cryptic.
Then I get in my car to meet him.
I don’t want to meet at my apartment, but I don’t want him anywhere near the Bellissimo either, so it will have to do. The air inside my tiny one-bedroom smells stale, like I haven’t lived there in years. Even though it’s still my old furniture and my books are on the shelves, it feels nothing like home. I’m not the person I was when I lived here. I don’t even like her much. She was closed off, barricaded into a confined existence. Afraid to love, afraid to live.
I take one bundle of cash out of the bag and stash it under the sofa cushion. It doesn’t hurt to have a little emergency money.
A knock sounds on the door and my dad pushes it open before I respond. “What’s going on? Are you in danger?” His gaze is sharp and he stands up like he’s going to try to hug me or something.
Oh that’s ripe. Like he ever cared about me. He’s just hoping I want to give him the scoop on his case.
“No.” I toss the duffel bag filled with my winnings on the couch and unzip it, giving him a nice view of the cash.
“Where did you get that?”
“I won it in a poker tournament.”
My dad snorts; he doesn’t believe me. That’s because he doesn’t think I’m good enough to win anything.
“There’s a little over one hundred grand in here.”
A small smile plays on his lips. He’s figured out where this is going. Or he thinks he has. “You want to buy your boyfriend some safety.”
I was right.
I always suspected my dad was corrupt. How could anyone who truly believed in justice be such as asshole?
I put my hands on my hips. “That’s right.”
He nods his head slowly. “All right. I can make his problems go away. But that doesn’t mean there won’t be new ones. And I may not be the one investigating next time. Is this really the kind of guy you want to keep company with?”
Yeah. I’ve had this conversation with myself already. It gnaws me up inside. Stefano is a product of his family and he can’t get away from them, even if he and his brother are doing their best to rise above it all. So it’s absolutely possible there will be another death. More violence. Illegal acts that could endanger Stefano.
But I can’t even think about that. I’m just trying to find my way through this crisis, and if I have a way of protecting Stefano, I’m going to do it.
“That’s for me to figure out,” I say. “Not your problem.”
My dad gives a humorless chuckle. “Right.” He picks up the bag of cash. “I’ll clean up the mess this time. But I suggest you get the hell away from the Tacone family. If I find myself investigating you next time, it won’t be so easy for me to suppress evidence.
I want to ask him what evidence he has, just so I know, but I’m itchy to get away from him. I feel dirty and wrong having this conversation and I want it to be over.
“Got it, yeah.” I walk to the door and hold it open for him.
He tips an imaginary hat and walks out. “You take care of yourself, Corey Jean.”
Fuck you.
I don’t say it because he’s not worth the breath.
Corey
I may have been riding the wave of luck on my way over, but a growing sense of dread tells me my run is over.
The money’s gone, boyfriend saved. I used up my mojo for the moment.
Time to lie low and recharge.
Nothing feels sweet or special anymore. My win in Memphis, Stefano’s sweetness, all feel tainted by this exchange.
I drive back, hollowness stretching inside me, threatening to take over, drag me under. I want to go up to Stefano’s suite and crawl into bed, pull the covers up over my head and block out life for a few hours. Instead, I stop in Stefano’s office to let him know I’m back, or maybe it’s because guilt about lying to him is gnawing at me.
Leo’s in his office, but Stefano waves me in with a smile. Again, I have that sense of my luck going flat. The buoyancy that swept me through the tournament is dead still. Next time, I’ll heed the prickle of warning, the knowing that everything is off. That something’s about to go horribly wrong.
As it is, I push away the queasiness, sit down in the chair Stefano waves me into.
“Leo’s just showing me a new piece of equipment we got in for security.”
“Oh yeah? What is it?”
Leo produces a small wand-type instrument and flips a switch. Green lights illuminate the tip. “It scans for microdevices with signals in them.” He stands up and runs it over his own body. It beeps when it goes over his jacket pocket. “You see? That’s my cell phone.” He produces the phone and sets it on the desk.
He continues waving the wand around, bringing it over my purse, where it turns red and beeps again. “That’s your phone.”
I unzip my bag and produce the phone, setting it on the desk beside his. He continues scanning my purse and the device beeps again.
“That’s weird,” I say, digging in my purse again. “What else sets it off?”
Leo and Stefano go dead still. “Bugs.” Leo’s affable manner’s fallen away, his expression icy. “May I?” The words are polite, but the way he says them makes me shiver.
I shove my bag in his direction. Of course I know there’s nothing in it. I glance at Stefano, but he’s not looking at me, he’s intent on the bag.
Leo waves the wand inside the bag, setting it off again, and he turns the bag inside out. Attached to the lining is a tiny button that makes the device go wild.
Cold flushes through me. “What is that? I’ve never seen that before.” My voice is higher in pitch. I sound like a liar, even to my own ears, but it’s the damn truth.
Leo produces a gun and cocks it at my head, the sound loud in the silent office.
I fully expect Stefano to tell him to put it away but he doesn’t say a word. His face is pale, expression flat.
Panic surges and I scramble up to my feet. The muzzle of the gun follows me. “I-I didn’t know that was in there.”
Still keeping the gun trained at my head, Leo advances, waving the wand over me. It doesn’t beep again. Stefano picks the bug up and crushes it between his fingers, then he smashes my phone on the side of the desk until it pops open. He examines the inside of it and sets it down.
Tears spear my eyes. “My dad,” I choke. “My dad must’ve put it in there. But I never told him anything. I swear.”
“Are you working with your dad?” Stefano’s voice is eerily calm and detached.
I shake my head quickly. “No.” Tears roll down my face. “But he’s here in Las Vegas. He’s investigating the disappearance of Donahue. I told him I didn’t know anything, but maybe that’s when he-” I swipe at my tears with the back of my hand. “When he put it in there.”
Jesus, my story sounds stupid and implausible even though it’s the stone cold truth.
“When was this?” Stefano clips.
“Right after it happened.” My voice cracks. “He was at my apartment when I came home.”
“And you kept that from me.” Stefano says it like I’ve just forever damned myself.
“He was in Chicago, too.” I admit, as if telling him now will make up for my earlier omissions. “At the wedding. He said he has evidence. I gave him the money from Memphis to suppress it.”
Stefano surges to his feet, knocking his chair to the floor. I don’t move, even though I’m shaking like a baby bird. He fists my hair and brings his face close to mine.. A muscle tics in his cheek, but his eyes are dead. “You tell your father,” he snarls, “he shouldn’t get his family involved in business.”
It’s a bald threat and I’m full-on terrified. It’s a wonder I don’t piss myself.
“You broke my fucking heart, Corey Simonson.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, because his expression is breaking mine, but he releases me abruptly and shoves me away. “Get out. Don’t ever come back here. Don’t ever let me see your face again, bella. I won’t show mercy a second time.”
“Stefano,” I whisper-plead. I want to explain-or better yet, go back in time and be more transparent from the beginning. Maybe I could avoid this betrayal of his faith in me.
But it’s too late. Leo grabs my elbow and yanks me through the door, slamming it behind me.
I can barely see as I toddle out, tears blinding me. My purse is still in their office, so I have nothing: no keys, no money, no phone, nowhere to go.
I find my way outside and start walking, away from the Bellissimo, away from Stefano. Away from everything I loved.