Dante shot Willie Boy a cold stare. “Your cousin said you had money I could use.”
Luciano’s phone rang, he silenced it. “What would you use the money for?”
“My mother has hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of medical bills,” Dante said. “She’s well now, but the debt has stressed her out. I want to help her.”
Not buying that.
“Drugs? Prostitution? Human trafficking?” Luciano asked.
“It’s for my mother, Mr. Santini.”
Luciano rose, checked his phone. His personal assistant had called. “Like I said, I can’t help you.” Then, he glared at Willie Boy. “Don’t waste my time again.”
On the way out, he called Dominic.
“Mr. Santini, the initial shipment of couture holiday gowns arrived. The colors are all wrong and the design team is struggling with the mistake.”
“Get Ezra on the phone and call me back.” Luciano hung up.
Outside, Luciano slid on his sunglasses.
“Where to?” Stuart asked.
“Home,” Luciano replied. “Did you get his picture?”
“Yes, sir,” Stuart said. “I uploaded all of them to Truman CyberSecurity’s IDWare, but got no hits. I’ll forward you the photos.”
They got in the sedan. Before Stuart left the parking lot, Luciano’s phone dinged with a text from him. He scrolled through the pics of Dante, forwarded one to Sin and Carrera.
Recognize him?
Sin replied.
No. Should I?
He hit me up for a mil in C$
Carrera texted.
How’d he find you?
WB
Sin texted.
For what?
Mom’s med bills. I couldn’t help him. I don’t have C$
Of course he had counterfeit money. He had easy access to several million, with the ability to print more, if necessary. But every text, every phone call was traceable, which meant Luciano was always covering his ass.
Luciano’s phone rang. “Santini,” he answered.
“Luciano,” purred his head designer, Ezra. “The colors are terrible. I’m sending you pics.”
His phone binged. He tapped, then scrolled. “I’ve seen worse. Do they need to be redone or do we rethink the colors?”
“You mean go with these?” Ezra asked.
