Chapter 2
“I am fine, Mr. Marino. I have filing to do.”
She took her espresso and left.
At her desk, her phone vibrated.
Restricted number.
Emily’s stomach tightened.
“This is Emily.”
“Miss Davies, this is Dr. Harris from the Oakridge facility. I’m calling about Leo.”
Emily closed her eyes.
“Is he hurt? Did he have an episode?”
“No. Physically, he is fine. But your secondary insurance provider has denied the claim for his specialized therapy sessions. They are now classifying them as experimental rather than essential.”
Emily felt the floor tilt beneath her.
“They can’t do that. It’s written into his care plan.”
“I know. We’re filing an appeal, but it could take months. Until it’s resolved, the therapy becomes an out-of-pocket expense. If we pause it, he may regress. You know how fragile his routine is.”
“How much?”
“An additional $6,000 a month.”
Emily calculated instantly.
There was no extra $6,000.
“I’ll figure it out. Don’t stop the therapy. I’ll get you a check by Friday.”
She ended the call.
Her hands shook.
For the first time in 3 years, she felt close to tears.
Instead, she opened the offshore routing spreadsheets and went back to work.
Dante noticed.
He noticed everything.
Emily stayed until 9:00 on Wednesday, processing dummy-corporation taxes with frantic intensity. She dropped pens. She snapped at Tommy when he requested reimbursement for toll fees. She stopped using the espresso machine and returned to the terrible breakroom coffee.
Dante watched her through the partially open doors of his office.
For 9 years, the world had been gray.
Emily had been the spark that brought color back into it.
He found himself looking for her in the mornings. He anticipated her dry responses. He liked her structure and her refusal to be intimidated.
Seeing her unravel disturbed him.
“Tommy.”
The enforcer appeared.
“Yeah, boss?”
“Find out what’s wrong with Emily.”
Tommy frowned.
“Wrong with her? Did she steal something?”
Dante’s stare turned glacial.
“If Emily stole something, she would have covered her tracks better than Sal. Something is pressing on her. Find out what.”
“You want me to follow her?”
“I want you to use the resources of a multimillion-dollar criminal enterprise to perform a discreet background check on my secretary’s current stressors. If she discovers you are looking into her, I will let her decide your punishment. We both know she is meaner than I am.”
Tommy swallowed.
“You got it, boss.”
It took less than 4 hours.
At 4:00 p.m., Dante summoned Emily.
She entered with her notebook.
“You need me to review the dock schedules?”
“No.”
Dante remained seated behind his desk.
“I need you to explain why you are trying to take a cash advance on next year’s salary.”
Emily’s pen slipped from her hand.
“That was a confidential request submitted to HR.”
“I am HR, Emily. A $50,000 cash advance is highly irregular for an administrative assistant, even in our line of work.”
“It is personal. I will sign a contract. I will work unpaid overtime. You can garnish my wages.”
“I don’t garnish wages. It’s bad for morale.”
Dante leaned forward.
“Oakridge Residential Facility. $8,000 a month base, recently increased to $14,000 because of an insurance denial for specialized schizophrenia therapy. Leo Davies. Your younger brother.”
Emily stopped breathing.
“Don’t.”
She stepped backward.
“Don’t use him. He has nothing to do with this. He’s sick.”
Dante’s expression darkened.
“I am not Sal. I don’t use family as collateral to ensure loyalty.”
“Then why did you investigate him?”
“Because you were distracted. A distracted secretary makes mistakes. Mistakes in my business cost lives. It was a liability assessment.”
They both knew it was a lie.
Dante simply did not like watching her drown.
“Fine. You assessed the liability. Now approve the advance, or I’ll find employment somewhere that can accommodate a signing bonus.”
Dante stood and walked around the desk.
“You aren’t going anywhere, Emily.”
“I have to pay for his care, Mr. Marino. I don’t have a choice.”
“I took care of it.”
Emily blinked.
“What?”
Dante removed a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to her.
It was a receipt from Oakridge.
Leo’s care, including his specialized therapy, had been paid in full for the next 5 years.
Emily stared at the number.
“I had our legal department contact the insurance company. Our lawyers are very persuasive. The company suddenly discovered that it had made a clerical error. The therapy is covered. A shell company associated with us also made a substantial philanthropic donation to Oakridge’s endowment. Leo will not lack anything while he resides there.”
Emily looked up.
“Why?”
“I told you. You were distracted.”
“This is hundreds of thousands of dollars, Dante.”
It was the first time she had used his first name.
Dante noticed.
“I don’t want your money. I can’t owe you this. I know how this works. A debt to the Marino family isn’t something you simply work off.”
“It isn’t a loan, Emily.”
He moved closer.
“It is an investment.”
“In what?”
“My peace of mind.”
His eyes held hers.
“I spent 9 years in the dark. You forced the lights on. I am not going to let you drown in medical debt simply because the world is cruel. I fix problems. This was a problem. It is fixed.”
Dante reached toward her.
His hand brushed her cheek, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Emily froze.
She did not move away.
“Go back to work, Emily. And use the damn espresso machine. The smell of that breakroom sludge is giving me a headache.”
By Friday, the atmosphere in the office had shifted again, becoming something like highly weaponized domesticity.
Emily never thanked him again.
Dante never mentioned it.
But the line between employer and employee had been erased.
At 3:00 p.m., the intercom buzzed.
“Emily. Come in here.”
Dante was pulling on a tailored black jacket over a charcoal shirt.
“We’re going out.”
“I have a backlog of unfiled routing numbers from the South Side.”
“Leave them. Tommy is bringing the car around.”
“Where are we going?”
“I have a sit-down with the Moretti family at their restaurant in the West Loop. They claim our distribution trucks are crossing into their territory. I need you to bring the logistics and GPS records in case they lie about the mileage.”
Emily’s blood went cold.
“I am an administrative assistant, Mr. Marino. I don’t attend sit-downs. I don’t carry a gun.”
“You carry a tablet containing the GPS logs. That is considerably more dangerous to them. And you will be with me. No one will touch you.”
“I’m not going.”
Dante stopped.
“Do you trust me?”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
“You are a criminal who murders people on my newly cleaned rugs. I trust your accounting. I do not trust your morals.”
A small smile appeared.
“Fair enough.”
He leaned closer.
“Then trust this. I just spent a small fortune ensuring your brother is safe. I’m not going to allow a second-rate thug like Carlo Moretti to put a bullet into my return on investment. You are the only person who completely understands the supply-chain algorithms. I need you there to prove they are stealing from us. I will not allow anything to happen to you.”
Emily studied him.
“If I get blood on my skirt, you are paying for the dry cleaning.”
Dante’s smile widened.
“Deal.”
The Moretti restaurant was dark and smelled of garlic and cigar smoke.
A CLOSED FOR PRIVATE EVENT sign hung on the locked front door.
Carlo Moretti sat at a circular table in the back. He was older, heavily jowled, with a cruel mouth and dead eyes. 4 men stood around him.
“Dante. You brought a small army and a secretary. Having trouble keeping the paperwork straight?”
Dante sat.
“Emily manages logistics, Carlo. She is here to explain exactly how stupid you are.”
Carlo’s face darkened.
“Careful, Dante. You’re in my house.”
“I’m in a health-code violation that serves overpriced veal.”
Dante did not blink.
“Show him, Emily.”
Her hands trembled, but Emily placed the iPad on the table.
A map of Chicago appeared with red and blue routes.
“These blue lines represent the Marino Syndicate’s distribution routes under the 2021 territorial treaty. The red lines represent GPS pings from your trucks during the last month.”
She enlarged the map.
“Your trucks entered our designated logistics corridors 34 times in 30 days, specifically using the I-55 corridor to bypass our toll operations. You undercut our shipping fees by 14%.”
Carlo stared at her.
“You’re going to let a broad talk to me like this?”
“She is not a broad, Carlo. She is my logistics director, and she is telling you that you owe me $800,000 in lost revenue by tomorrow morning.”
Carlo slammed his hand onto the table.
One of his men moved toward Emily and seized her upper arm.
A deafening crack split the room.
The man fell backward, screaming, blood spreading across the white tablecloth.
Dante had shattered a heavy glass water pitcher across his jaw.
Now Dante was standing.
The cold control had vanished.
Tommy and the other Marino enforcer drew their weapons.
Carlo’s men did the same.
Dante pulled Emily behind him by the waist, placing his body between her and the guns.
“You don’t touch her.”
His voice was barely above a whisper.
“You look at her again. You speak to her again. And I will burn this restaurant to the ground with you inside it.”
Carlo began to sweat.
“$800,000, Carlo. By 9:00 a.m., or I send Tommy back here to collect it in teeth.”
Dante kept Emily against his side as they backed out of the restaurant.
Inside the waiting SUV, the adrenaline left Emily shaking.
Dante immediately examined her arms.
“Are you hurt?”
“No. I’m fine.”
Then he saw the fear in her face.
Not only fear of the Morettis.
Fear of him.
Dante withdrew his hands.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you. I overestimated my own restraint.”
Emily looked at him.
The violent mob boss from the restaurant was gone.
In his place was a man who looked exhausted and painfully human.
She understood then that Dante Marino was not simply waking up.
He was waking up because of her.
May you like
The ride back to the glass-and-steel tower was suffocatingly quiet.
Dante stared through the window at the passing Chicago lights. Emily held the iPad against her chest, her mind replaying the shattered glass, the blood, and Dante placing himself between her and loaded guns.
