I close the file, tap it on my desk to get the papers in line. “Alright. If you’re sure. And now I think I should get on home.”
She pushes off from the wall, straightening out her spine again and lifting her chin. “Me, too. We have an early morning meeting tomorrow, if you’re back in the office.”
I nod slowly. “One last thing, Miranda. I’ve been thinking.”
“Yes?”
“I know what my father said last time when I raised your promotion with him, but I think I’d like to try again. If, that is, you’d be willing and able to take on a more senior role among the partners.”
I’ve caught her unawares, that much is obvious. “Well, I—” Her mouth jars, her eyes slide away as she tries to think of something to say. “That’s very generous, Carlo, but he made it clear that he doesn’t have a role for me at that level. Yet.”
“Sure,” I say, collecting my coat from the stand next to the door. “But I think I can persuade him. I’ve been known to make a convincing argument from time to time.” We exchange smiles. Hers is nervous. “I think if we push this Sardinian negotiation as an example, he’d have to cave,” I continue.
Her mouth twitches to one side as she turns to open the door and exit my office. I follow her into the hallway. “You heading out, too?” I ask. “I’ll walk you down. We can share a car—my guy’s waiting downstairs.”
A very faint flush is beginning in her décolletage. “Thank you, but there were a few more things I wanted to finish up before—”
“Oh, come on. I know your hours will be through the roof this month. And we can talk on the ride, figure out a strategy my father can’t say no to.”
Her eyes flash over my face, judging, assessing. “Alright,” she says at last. “I just need to collect my things.”
I nod and sweep my arm out. Miranda’s office is in the east wing of the floor, and as we go through the reception area, she looks from side to side. “Your driver’s downstairs, you said?” she asks.
“Yes. I told him I might be a while.”
“I won’t be long,” she says, stopping in front of the reception desk. “Do you want to wait here?”
“I’ll come with you. I’d like to stretch my legs a little. Besides, I want you to pull a few examples of your best work. I can take them home and start preparing a memo.”
“We can do all that—” She pauses as one of the building guards appears through the glass doors in the elevator lobby just outside Bianchi and Associates.
He gives us a wave and shouts through the glass door, “Everything okay in there?”
I look at Miranda. She’s giving that charming smile again. “Yes,” she calls back. “We’re just working late. I’m on my way out shortly.”
“You need me to check the offices?”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” she says. “Maybe once we’re both gone? Come back in an hour or so.”
The guard nods, calls, “Have a good night, ma’am,” and heads back into the elevator.
Miranda watches him go and waits a few seconds before she runs a hand over her sleek bobbed hair and smiles at me again. “Shall we?”
We continue down to her office. It’s not as big as mine, but it’s still very big, and has similar spectacular views of the city. “I need to shut down my computer,” she says, going to the desk. I move to the window and look out over the city I love. At this time of night, New York looks like an amusement park, all lit up with multicolored lights that move and flash along the streets below. It’s all too easy to forget the dark underbelly when you’re this high up, even when you work for the Mob.
I can see Miranda reflected in the window, too. She’s standing still, looking at me.
And she’s holding a gun.
Chapter Forty-Six
Nick
Ilet Snapper and Vollero tie me up to a chair because I don’t want to hurt them, and anyway, I know Vitali means business. He’s the one I’m most worried about, because I’ve never seen him so calmly furious. It’s only senior members here, I note, which suggests my chances of walking out of this warehouse alive are on the lower end.
All I can think about is that I never got the chance to kiss Carlo one last time.
Once they have me tied secure, at their mercy, I guess, Vitali squats down in front of me and looks into my face, disgust in his own. “Never took you for a rat, Fontana,” he says in a low, menacing voice. “But you know as well as anyone what we do with rats.”
