"Fine, fine." She holds up her hands in surrender, but that damn smirk stays firmly in place. "I won't say another word about how you've assigned Dante as her personal driver. Or how you let her bring Lily here. Or how you just spent the last five minutes looking at her like she's?—"
"Vittoria."
"—a particularly complex algorithm you're desperate to solve."
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Breathe. Count to ten.
She laughs. Bright and musical and utterly unrepentant. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
"Nothing is going to be anything."
"Whatever you say, Nico." She pats my cheek as she passes me, heading toward her wing. "Whatever you say."
I stand alone in the hallway. Silence settles around me like a shroud.
I head to the office because I have work to do. Numbers to run. Patterns to analyze.
I don't think about vanilla-scented hair.
I don't think about grey-blue eyes going wide when I crowded her against the wall.
I don't think about the way her voice cracked when she said he's got money, I don't.
I absolutely don't think about the name Jack Walker, or the way my fingers are already itching to dig into every corner of his miserable existence.
I think about nothing at all.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Nico
The door to my office opens without a knock. Only three people in this building have that privilege. Pietro, Liam, and Vittoria.
Liam's face tells me everything I need to know before he opens his mouth. The man spent fifteen years in British Special Forces. He doesn't rattle easily. But right now, his jaw is set in that particular way that means bad news.
"Close the door," I say.
He does. Then he crosses to my desk and drops a manila folder on top of the shipping manifests I've been reviewing.
"Jack Walker."
My fingers stop tapping against the desk. "What about him?"
"The loan wasn't from a legitimate source." Liam stands at parade rest, hands clasped behind his back. "He borrowed from the Bratva."
Holly shit.
I flip open the folder. Financial statements. Bank records. A photograph of Jack Walker shaking hands with a man Irecognize not remembering his name. But he's Bratva and we don't do business with them.
"One hundred thousand dollars," Liam continues. "All in Kristen Thomas's name. She's listed as the sole borrower."
My vision narrows to a single point.
"She doesn't know."
"No, sir. According to our surveillance of her bank account, she's been transferring fifteen hundred dollars monthly to Jack Walker's personal account. She believes she's paying down the debt."
I turn the page. Transaction records. Eight months of payments.
