Giuseppe Bonaventure was in his midthirties, with black hair and dark eyes. As with the villa, her father was fascinated by anything and everything Italian.Like some kind of Mafia don?she now wondered.
Giuseppe made a slight bow. “He is in his study, Ms. Winston. I will let him know you are here.”
“Thank you.” Her dad spent less and less time at his office in the high-rise building he owned. He left most of the work up to the CEOs of his numerous companies or his right-hand man, Simon Graves. Most of his own work, he handled in the house.
Giuseppe returned. “He is waiting. You may go on back.”
She headed down the hall and found him seated behind his massive, ornately carved desk, forced herself not to look for the expensive bottle of scotch. He had put on a little weight, she noticed, and there were fine strands of gray in his hair.
Harper managed to smile. “Hi, Dad. I had an errand to run out this way, and I wanted to talk to you. Have you got a second?”
He leaned back in his leather wingback chair. “I’ve always got time for my daughter. What is it?”
She sat down in a chair across from him. “After I left the party Saturday night, I got to thinking. There are lots of good-looking men in Dallas. I mean, Chase is all right, you know, but the two of you don’t get along, and I respect your opinion. And I’m not ready to settle down yet, anyway. I wanted you to know I’ve decided not to see him again.”
He father stood up from behind his desk, a slow smile making its way across his blunt face. Harper had her mother’s fine features and pale blond hair. Michael had their father’s dark hair but didn’t look much like either one of them.
“I’m not surprised,” her dad said, obviously pleased. “You always were a smart girl.”
“The truth is guys like Chase are a dime a dozen. Now that I’m back in Dallas, maybe you can introduce me to someone interesting.”
His smile broadened. “Now you’re thinking like a Winston. Might as well find someone who can be an asset to the family.”
She managed to smile in return. “That’s right. I made it clear to Chase that we were over and he was okay with it, so there’s no problem there.”
She thought about walking around the desk and giving him a hug to make sure she had convinced him, but her dad wasn’t a hugging kind of guy and she didn’t want him to get suspicious.
“So we’re good?” she asked, keeping her fake smile in place.
“Everything’s fine. I’m glad you came by.”
“Me, too.” She glanced at the door, her gaze skimming the built-in bar along the way, spotting the bottle of scotch with the silver stag’s head on the front. No way could she get to it, at least not today. “I’m afraid I’ve got to run. I’ve got a dozen things to do. Take care, Dad.”
“You, too, sweetheart.” He returned his attention to the paperwork on his desk as if she were already gone.
As she left the office, Harper prayed she’d done enough to get Chase off her father’s hit list.
Bad choice of words, she thought, the notion sending a chill down her spine. By the time she had reached her car, she was drained. Lying took a lot out of a person. Though it hadn’t been much of a problem for Chase.
Sitting in his rental car down the road from the mansion, Roberto Chavez watched the white BMW drive past and started his engine. Bobby had been watching the Winston girl for days, keeping track of her schedule, looking for vulnerabilities, weaknesses he could use.
His orders had come straight from Eduardo Ramos, second in command of the Montoya empire. Ramos had made it clear what hisjefeexpected. Montoya wanted the girl, and it was Bobby’s job to get her. Once he was ready, his plan laid out, he would bring in the help he needed to get the task done.
What he didn’t want to do was make a mistake. He couldn’t afford to fail. Luis Montoya didn’t tolerate failure.
As the BMW headed back toward Dallas, Bobby kept his car a safe distance behind her. He didn’t want to be spotted, though he didn’t think there was much chance of that. He had time, not a lot, but enough to carefully go over and finalize his plans.
He followed the car back to the girl’s warehouse office. He had already discarded the idea of taking her there. Too many people around, too many opportunities to screw up.
He pulled into the back of the parking lot to watch and wait, see what other info he could pick up. She usually came out after dark. An after-hours abduction might be a possibility, as long as she was by herself, but often she was with someone, the black girl who was her business partner or one of the other employees.
Her town house was a possibility. Just a quick in and out after dark—except for her fancy alarm system, which appeared to be highly complex. Bobby didn’t like the look of that.
Another day or two, he’d figure it out, be ready to lay out the plan to his men. Once he had the girl, she’d be loaded aboard a private jet and taken out of the country. Montoya would be pleased, and Bobby would be well rewarded.
Montoya didn’t tolerate failure. But he was more than generous when it came to success.
Chase sat behind his desk at The Max, trying to concentrate on work. So far without much success. His top priority was the Dickerson case. He’d managed to get through the police report and Dickerson’s personal commentary on the flash drive.
