I waggle a hand at him. "I like pastel pink, more subtle, and no one does glitter anymore, baby cakes. We do motifs. Glitter butterflies? Better yet, crystal."
He doesn't answer. Just downs his rum.
I turn and go behind Louie to the small collection of top-shelf drops he saves for his best meetings and clients, and I grab a bottle of Japanese Hibiki whiskey. Then I nab two glasses and sit again, sloshing healthy shots into each glass.
I push one at Louie, and after he just picks it up and drinks it too, I fill mine to the halfway mark.
Not even a note of green about his skin shade.
Fuck.
It must be bad if he is not reacting to me pilfering this five K bottle and drinking it like it cost five bucks.
I down some from my glass. "Okay. Start from the beginning. The facts, okay? Just the fucking facts."
Louie takes a breath, and words then spill from him like a mini dam bursting, and I sit here and listen.
"The company was sinking. Not my faul?—"
"The facts, Louie. I don't give a fuck about fault or excuses. Facts."
He nods. "It was sinking, so I started looking for ways to supplement the revenue. I somehow got sucked into doing jobs for Dominic Rebecci."
Another fucking mafia figure. Shit, Gino would come in his pants hearing this. He could fuck over a whole lot of people and have them owe him.
"Rebecci? As in the mafia family Rebecci?" I need to be sure.
"Yes." Louie's eyes narrow into slits. "I had no idea the jobs were to fuck over Edoardo until it was too late."
"Fuck, dude."
He slams his fist on the desk. "I should have fucking known something was up when all Dom wanted in return was details on a few of the employees here."
That stops me. "Which employees?"
Louie frowns and huffs. "I don't fucking know. Everyone we have hired in the last six months."
Cold pricks my skin everywhere.
Fuck. I'm pretty sure I know exactly who Dom is looking for.
The same person I have been working to protect.
My wrong number girl.
Lola.
Lourdes Carino Mancini. Or Lola Winters, as she is going by since the manager at Data Stables gently pushed her into using Lola, not Lourdes as the papers did, as her father did, and those who knew her socially in her previous life did.
Lola was the nickname she had from when she was a kid, and it wasn't really used in public. Not that she had a public persona.
But her dad's associates, friends and foes know her as Lourdes.
I'm betting if I went up and introduced myself to her, she would never remember me in a million years.
Why would she? She was only a little kid when we met.
But I remember her.
