I leave the hotel with my brothers and father, but instead of going home, I head straight to the office. The meeting is over, the decisions have been made, and there's nothing left to do except live with them.
I spend the next hour working through reports, trying to catch up on everything that accumulated while I was sitting in a room listening to old men decide who everyone is going to marry.
A knock sounds at my office door. "Come in."
The door opens and Marco steps inside. "Enzo's here."
I look up from the paperwork in front of me. "What does he want?"
Marco shrugs. "Said he needs to speak with you."
I close the file, get to my feet and button my jacket. "Where is he?"
"Sitting room.”
I nod and head for the door. Marco falls into step beside me.
Enzo doesn't come looking for me unless something needs fixing, and in our world, something always needs fixing.
I enter the sitting room and see Enzo sitting along with two of his soldiers, one of which is, Sal Romano. The second I see him, I know what this is about. Sal manages one of our construction sites in the North End. On paper, it's legitimate. In reality, a lot more moves through that site than steel and concrete, and Sal has not been doing his job correctly.
I walk to the end of the table and stop. Sal watches me carefully, sweat glistening along his hairline.
I fold my arms across my chest, nobody speaks, so I let the silence stretch. Enzo knows better than to interrupt it. Marco does too.
Sal shifts in his chair, looks at me and then glances away. Eventually, exactly as expected, he cracks. "I can explain."
They always can.
I remain silent.
His throat bobs. "It wasn't what it looked like."
Another lie. The numbers never lie. People do.
I had Marco pull the site accounts two weeks ago when the discrepancies became impossible to ignore. The first one showed up four months ago, it was tiny, barely worth noticing.
But then there was another, and another; not enough to act on, not yet. I brought it to my father after the second month; we agreed to sit on it and gather information rather than move too quickly and risk accusing the wrong man.
So we watched, we tracked the payments, and we followed the money. Eventually, the pattern became impossible to explain away. Four months of shaving money off the top and hoping nobody would pay enough attention. Unfortunately for Sal, paying attention is part of my job.
"I was going to pay it back."
I almost roll my eyes. "Of course you were."
Sal shifts uncomfortably. "My wife got sick," he says. "The insurance wouldn't cover everything. Then my son needed surgery and I...”
I hold his gaze. "How long have you worked for this family?"
The question catches him off guard. "Eleven years."
I nod. Eleven years. Long enough to know better. Long enough to know exactly what happens when people start helping themselves to money that isn't theirs.
"You stole from us for four months."
His face pales. "I was going to repay..."
I cut him off with a look. Immediately, he shuts up. "You stole from us for four months," I repeat. "And the only reason you're sitting here explaining yourself is because you got caught."
