Perfect.
"So, Mike," I say casually, cutting into my steak. "Have you reconsidered our arrangement?"
His smile falters. "Dante, look, we’re all having a nice conversation. Why do we need to?—"
"Because we both know this is why we’re here." I set down my knife and fork, give him my full attention. "Because I did some research today. Interesting what you find when you start digging."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Don't you?" I pull out my phone, scroll through the photos Rafe sent. "Offshore account in the Caymans. Deposits totalingtwo hundred thousand over the past six months. All from shell companies traced back to the Corsetti family."
The blood drains from his face.
Nancy's smile freezes. "What's he talking about, Mike?"
"Nothing, honey. Business confusion?—"
"The Corsettis funded an attack on Romano operations last year," I continue, my voice pleasant, conversational. I even smile. "Killed ten people. Three of them were women. One was a fourteen-year-old kid."
Bianca's hand tightens on her water glass, she stands. “Uh, excuse me, I have to go to the ladies’.” And without waiting for an answer, she walks away.
I allow myself to look at the sway of her hips for just one second before I peel my eyes away.
Back to business.
"You gave them inside information," I say, leaning forward. "Schedules. Routes. Access codes. And people died because of it."
"I didn't know—" Patterson's voice cracks. "They told me it was just business?—"
"Just business?" The rage I've been controlling slips through. "A kid died, Mike. A fourteen-year-old boy who was visiting his father at work. And you helped make that happen."
"Dante—"
"So, here's what's going to happen." I keep my voice level, but they can hear the steel in it. "You're going to approve our construction bid. You're going to cut all ties with the Corsettis. And you're going to provide me with every piece of information you gave them—names, dates, everything."
"Or what?"
"Or I send this information to Matteo Romano. And then I won't be able to protect you from what comes next." I lean back. "Your choice."
Nancy is pale, her hand pressed to her mouth. Patterson looks like he might be sick.
"I need time?—"
"You have until Friday."
"That's three days?—"
"Then I suggest you work quickly." I start to eat.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Bianca
The restaurant bathroom is all marble and gold fixtures, the kind of place where even the soap probably costs more than my weekly grocery budget. I stand at the sink, gripping the edge of the counter, trying to process what just happened at that table.
Dante destroyed that man.
Not with fists or violence, but with words. With information. With the kind of cold, calculated precision that's somehow more terrifying than any physical threat could be.
