He was generally aware of people whose lives he ruined, and he had no idea what she was talking about. Though her face had struck him as faintly familiar, he was certain they’d never met. He couldn’t have forgotten her if he’d ever had such a pleasure. She was nearly a foot shorter than his six-foot, four-inch height, with curves he’d barely been able to identify beneath her unremarkable clothing. Her appearance suggested she was trying to hide herself for some unfathomable reason.
But there was no disguising that kind of natural beauty.
Santino blew out a breath, adjusted his pants, and tugged his phone from a pocket. Standing and staring wouldn’t accomplish anything, not unless he was trying to paint a sparkly target on his back. If he wanted to learn more about that mysterious beauty, he had to get to work. “Bring the car around,” he said when theline connected. “I’ll be working from home today.” He waited only for the acknowledgment before disconnecting.
The device buzzed a moment later. Santino debated pointedly ignoring it, but he pushed the juvenile urge aside. This was what he got for leaving his Bluetooth in the car. “Yes?”
“Should we grab the woman, Boss?” Armando’s gruff voice asked without preamble.
Santino frowned. “No one touches her.” The words pulled from him before he could properly debate the option. Or the response. If he allowed his men to apprehend Reiko, he could see her that much sooner. Speak to her that much sooner. But the woman he’d spoken so briefly to wasn’t the type who would appreciate that tactic.
To say nothing for how he felt at the thought of his men putting their hands on her, tying her up, or throwing her around. No. That was a terrible idea altogether.
“Boss?”
Santino tucked his free hand into his pocket and turned to approach the curb. “There are a couple of things that need to be looked into,” he said, keeping his tone neutral. “I’ll find her when I’m ready.” And he would find her.
One look at the solemn-faced woman sitting by herself on that park bench, had compelled Santino to alter his whole trajectory. Beautiful, guarded Reiko Matsunaga had not seen the last of him.
But he did also have some wayward department managers to straighten up, so he would have to pace himself. Just a little.
Chapter two
Chrysanthemums
“Sure you don’t wanta slice?” Santino asked, gesturing to the heart attack of a pizza that occupied most of the table. He took a shamelessly large bite of his own slice, watched as his tablemate began to shake his head, and made the deliberatechoice to speak again before he’d finished chewing. “It’s fucking delicious.”
Across from him, Maxwell the Manager of Bad Decisions averted his gaze and offered a strained chuckle. “No, thank you, Mr. Guerra. I promised my wife I’d bring something home since I had to stay late. If I ruin my dinner appetite, she’ll have me sleeping on the couch again.”
Santino hummed and licked his fingers, this time swallowing politely before he spoke. “Oh? You didn’t tell her you were grabbing a meal with the boss?” He raised his brows expectantly and kept his grin easy.
“Of course not, sir!” Maxwell’s next laugh sounded more genuine. “If I’d said something like that, I’d still be stuck on the phone getting nagged on all the reasons I need to be begging for a raise.” His eyes immediately bulged and he pitched forward in his seat. “Which I’m not trying to do! I shouldn’t have said that! You pay me well, really. Shit. I’m sorry, Mr. Guerra!” He coughed roughly and scrubbed a hand down his face, his voice suddenly dropping to barely a whisper. “What, uh, what is it you wanted to talk to me about, sir?”
Santino sat back in his seat, legs spread and posture relaxed. The pizzeria was open, technically, but it also wasn’t. A fact he had carefully orchestrated. Much like how the other two occupied tables in the space—both far enough away not to be able to overhear a quiet exchange of words—were occupied by men on his payroll. But Maxwell knew none of that. Maxwell thought they were having a relaxed evening chat about office shit.
Maxwell was a fucking idiot.
“I’m glad you asked, Max,” Santino said. He let his lips lift as Maxwell shifted in his seat. The disrespect was intentional, of course. Whether or not Maxwell recognized that immediately,he’d figure it out quick. Santino continued. “We need to talk about cutbacks.”
The color drained from Maxwell’s face. “Cutbacks, sir?” He practically whispered the question. But the fact that he phrased it like he was confused was its own brand of upsetting.
Still, Santino kept the anger off his face with practiced ease. “Specifically, theoneyou implemented first thing this morning. The firing you neglected to run through proper channels. Sound familiar?”
Maxwell swallowed hard. “Mr. Guerra, I … I can explain.”
Santino hummed. “Can you? Can you explain why a thirty-one-year-old, hard-working woman with a solid in-house history and only two bullshit complaints on her record was fired without notice this morning?” He leaned forward and rested an elbow on the table, holding Maxwell’s stare. “Because from where I’m sitting, Max, that looks very much like a targeted act of discrimination which she would be within her rights to suemy companyover. And I’m sure you see my problem with that.”
Sweat rolled visibly down the side of Maxwell’s face. “Th-that’s not— She has no proof!”
Santino arched one brow. “Come again?”
Maxwell dropped a curled, trembling fist onto the table. “It’s not like she knows whether or not anyone else was let go. She’s not close with anyone in the office. She didn’t make a fuss. And the office is better off without her! It was for the good of the company!”
“The good of the company,” Santino repeated. “So, the staff we currently have can make up for, and exceed, the loss of Ms. Matsunaga’s output? Of course, while maintaining their own.” He knew the answer. He’d looked over the numbers.
It wasn’t that Reiko had been the brightest shining star in her department. But she had been a stable, dependable performer.There was something to be said for workers like those. They held the truest value.
Predictably, Maxwell bobbed his head. “Absolutely, sir,” he said. “You’ll see. That bitch’s loss won’t make a dent.”
