Her eyebrows rise, but she’s smart enough not to ask questions. Smart enough to take my money and shut the fuck up about it.
When she leaves, I pull out my phone and start making calls.
The kitchen appliance supplier on the other end is happy to hear from me at least. Good. I want this done fast.
“Everything top of the line: commercial-grade stove with eight burners, double oven, walk-in refrigerator and freezer. Prep stations, storage, shelving.” I’m pacing my office, mentally walking through Sophie’s kitchen at The Arsenal, remembering every surface I fucked her against. “I’ll send you the specs.”
“Budget?”
“No budget. Just get the best.”
There’s a pause. “The best can get expensive, Mr. Demonio.”
“Did I fucking not speak English?”
Another pause. “I’ll prepare a proposal.”
“I don’t need a proposal. I need it ordered and installed within two weeks. Can you do that or should I call someone else?”
“Two weeks. Absolutely. I’ll need the delivery address and—”
“I’ll send everything over. One more thing.” I stop pacing, my jaw tight. “The owner is Sophie Bellamorte. Sophia. She makes all decisions going forward. Equipment, maintenance, everything. You answer to her, not me. I’m paying the bill and that’s it. Clear?”
“Crystal clear, Mr. Demonio.”
I hang up and immediately dial the next number. Linen service. Then cleaning service. Then a company that does regular maintenance and repairs. Then the bank. Each time, I make it clear: Sophie is in charge. I’m just the wallet.
By the time I call Matti, my head is pounding and I’ve been on the phone for three hours straight.
“You sound like shit,” he says by way of greeting.
“I need the name of your furniture suppliers. The ones you use for the hotel.”
Silence. Then, “For what?”
“Does it fucking matter?”
“It does if you’re fucking with Sophie again after you shit on her in front of everyone at my wife’s birthday party.” His voice is cold. “Siena is still pissed at you. So am I, for the record.”
I close my eyes, pinch the bridge of my nose. “I know.”
“Do you? Because you grabbed Sophie by the throat, Vin. You called her—” He stops himself. “I’ve known you a long time. I’ve seen you do terrible things to women. But that? That was beyond fucking cruel. And to the person who deserves it least in the world.”
“I know,” I repeat, the words scraping my throat raw.
“Then why—”
“Just give me the fucking supplier name, Matti.”
Another pause. When he speaks again, his voice is less angry. “You’re setting her up in her new restaurant.”
It’s not a question, but I answer anyway. “Yeah.”
“Because you’re in love with her.”
My hand tightens around the phone. “Because I owe her.”
“Bullshit. You’re in love with her and you’re too much of a coward to admit it.”
