And the casino… is a money laundering operation.
The sickness hits me fast, and I bolt to the bathroom.
I make it to the bathroom in time, drop to my knees, and grab the rim. The first heave tears through me. Bitter, sour—nothing graceful about it. My eyes water. Another hits, harsher.
When it finally eases, I stay there with my forehead on my forearm, catching breath, counting. I flop back against the cabinet.
I’m working for the mob.
My best friend…
The man I’m sleeping with. The man I… fell in love with.
At the thought, my stomach gives another heave. I breathe through my nose, swallow, and then my body decides it’s not done. I gag, heave myself to the toilet, and empty what’s left.
I flush and sit back on my heels, and reach for toilet paper to wipe my mouth. Hands shaking, I get to the sink, run the tap, rinse, spit, rinse again until the taste is gone. I press a cool washcloth to the back of my neck.
I fill a glass, swish, take a small sip. My stomach knots once, then settles. I look at myself—eyes red, mascara smudged at the corners, throat working like I’m still fighting it. I run the washcloth under cold water and press it over my face until the heat under my skin fades.
The line of thought that brought me in here is still there, waiting. Luca. Roberto. Caterina. Headlines that never quite say it, but say enough. Three comps that shouldn’t exist. Owner initials. “Stay in your lane.” My lane led straight to this.
I breathe, slow and even. I’m not going to fall apart on a bathroom floor. Again. I fold the cloth, set it aside, and take another careful sip of water.
My hands steady a little. I pull my hair into a loose tie to get it off my neck and clean my mouth. Then I go back to the table, to the open laptop and the tabs I left waiting.
I need to know everything I possibly can before tomorrow.
Chapter Thirty
Roberto
I’m outside Olivia’s office with a cup holder in my hand. A breakfast sandwich, as planned, and two coffees. Her door is locked. The light under it is dark.
She’s always here before 7:00. Not today.
After the conversation with Caterina last night and Olivia not coming over, my suspicions are a bit high.
Could she be avoiding me?
Keys clink at the far end of the hall. Heels move quickly. I look up, and there she is—black pants, a soft gray blouse tucked in neatly, cropped jacket. Hair pulled back in a low twist, a few pieces loose near her temples.
She’s looking down, digging for keys in her bag.
She nearly walks into me before she looks up. She yelps, hand flying to her chest. I steady her with a hand. “God—Roberto. You scared me.”
“Sorry,” I say, stepping back. I lift thebag. “Peace offering.”
A small smile graces her face. “You brought me breakfast?”
“I did.” I study her. Eyes a little red at the rims. Concealer doing more than it should. There’s a coolness at the back of her gaze I don’t like.
She finally fishes out her key card, and I take the handle to hold the door while she scans. We step inside, and I close it behind us.
Blinds are down.
“Late for you,” I say.
“Bad sleep,” she answers easily, moving past me to drop her bag on the chair. “Long weekend caught up with me, I think.”
