Chapter 2 - The Compliment Behind the Door
I should have said no.
Instead, I stared at Marcus for several seconds while traffic hissed over wet Manhattan pavement beyond the park.
“Dinner?”
“One meal,” he said. “No spreadsheets. No Vitellis. No Dominic.”
The last name made me look away.
Marcus smiled.
“That alone should make it tempting.”
“It could make things complicated.”
“Only if we let it.”
I handed back his handkerchief.
“Tonight?”
“Seven-thirty.”
I should have remembered something Dominic once told me.
The most dangerous people never looked dangerous when they wanted something from you.
But Marcus had been kind when Dominic had been cruel.
At seven-thirty, kindness won.
Marcus chose Bellini’s, a quiet Italian restaurant in Tribeca where the tables were spaced far enough apart that conversations remained private.
I expected business.
Instead, he asked about my sister.
My childhood.
The graduate program I had abandoned when my father died and my mother needed help paying the mortgage.
He listened.
That was the strange part.
Dominic remembered everything I told him, but listening and remembering were not the same thing.
Dominic collected information.
Marcus made you feel heard.
“You know,” Marcus said over coffee, “you’re different outside that office.”
“How?”
“You smile.”
I laughed.
“I smile at work.”
“No. You perform politeness at work.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“It’s impressive.”
He leaned back.
“But this is better.”
I went home that night feeling lighter than I had in months.
The next morning, Dominic was already in his office when I arrived.
That was unusual.
More unusual was the untouched coffee beside him.
“Good morning.”
His eyes lifted.
“You’re three minutes late.”
I checked the clock.
8:03.
“The subway stalled.”
“I don’t employ the subway.”
There he was.
The man I recognized.
“I’ll apologize to public transportation on your behalf.”
His gaze sharpened.
I expected criticism.
Instead, one corner of his mouth almost moved.
Almost.
“Schedule?”
I gave it to him.
At ten, Marcus arrived for a meeting.
He stopped at my desk.
“Good morning.”
“Morning.”
“You look beautiful.”
My fingers froze over my keyboard.
Marcus said it casually.
Softly.
But not softly enough.
Dominic’s office door stood partly open.
I felt his attention before I looked.
“Thank you,” I said.
Marcus smiled.
“Tonight again?”
Before I could answer, Dominic’s voice came from inside.
“Santoro.”
Marcus glanced toward the office.
“Someone sounds cheerful.”
He walked inside.
I tried to work.
For twenty minutes, I heard nothing.
Then Marcus left.
His expression was still pleasant, but something in it had tightened.
Dominic called me in.
The office felt colder than usual.
He was standing beside the windows.
“Close the door.”
I did.
“Are you dating Santoro?”
The question stunned me.
“That’s personal.”
“You work for me.”
“That doesn’t make my personal life corporate property.”
He turned.
“I asked a simple question.”
“And I’m declining to answer it.”
His jaw tightened.
“Bad idea.”
Something in me snapped.
Maybe it was yesterday.
Maybe eighteen months of swallowing words had finally filled whatever space existed inside me.
“No. A bad idea was telling your exhausted employee she was replaceable after she spent half the night fixing problems she didn’t create.”
Silence.
Dominic stared at me.
I had never spoken to him that way.
“You want honesty?” I continued. “Marcus took me to dinner. He was kind. He asked questions without making them sound like an interrogation. And for two hours, I remembered what it felt like to be treated like a person.”
Dominic’s face became unreadable.
Then he looked away.
“Go back to work.”
I laughed once in disbelief.
“Of course.”
“Diana.”
I stopped at the door.
His voice had changed.
Lower.
“Don’t trust him.”
I turned.
“Why?”
Dominic hesitated.
That frightened me more than an immediate answer would have.
“Because Marcus never does anything without a reason.”
“Neither do you.”
“No.”
His gray eyes settled on mine.
“But I’ve never lied to you about what I am.”
I walked out before he could see that the sentence had affected me.
For the next week, Marcus and I had dinner three times.
Nothing happened.
Not really.
A hand at my back entering a restaurant.
A lingering glance.
A good-night kiss on my cheek.
Dominic became impossible.
He rejected coffee that was prepared exactly the way he drank it.
Changed meetings twice.
Asked whether Marcus had called, then pretended he hadn’t asked.
On Friday evening, everyone else had left when Marcus appeared.
I was standing beside the conference table organizing contracts.
“You’re still here?”
“So are you.”
He loosened his tie.
“Dominic?”
“Meeting downtown.”
Marcus came closer.
“You really do look beautiful tonight.”
I smiled despite myself.
“You already used that line.”
“It was true then too.”
His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair away from my cheek.
My breathing stopped.
“Marcus—”
“Tell me to stop.”
I didn’t.
He leaned closer.
Then the office door opened.
Dominic stood there.
Black overcoat.
Black suit.
Rain shining on his shoulders.
He looked first at Marcus.
Then at Marcus’s hand against my face.
Something terrifyingly calm settled over Dominic’s expression.
Marcus stepped away.
“You’re back early.”
Dominic shut the door behind him.
“Apparently.”
I reached for my purse.
“I was leaving.”
“No,” Dominic said.
My hand stopped.
He looked at Marcus.
“You are.”
Marcus smiled.
“Careful, Dom. You’re starting to sound jealous.”
Dominic did not blink.
“Get out.”
Marcus glanced at me.
“Diana?”
“I’ll be fine.”
After he left, the room became painfully quiet.
Dominic walked to his desk.
“Did he kiss you?”
I stared at him.
“You cannot be serious.”
“Answer me.”
“No.”
Something eased in his shoulders.
That made me furious.
“But he could have,” I said.
The relief vanished.
“You don’t get to humiliate me one day and interrogate me because another man notices me the next.”
“I know.”
I stopped.
It was the first time I had ever heard Dominic Caruso admit fault without qualification.
He looked at the broken-glass bin beside his desk.
The maintenance staff had replaced it, but we both remembered.
“I shouldn’t have said what I said.”
“No.”
“You are not replaceable.”
My heart stumbled.
Dominic came around the desk.
Slowly.
“You are the first person I look for when something goes wrong.”
He stopped.
“The first person I trust with anything important.”
His voice lowered.
“And apparently the first person I notice when another man puts his hands on her.”
I swallowed.
“That sounds like jealousy.”
“It is.”
No denial.
No excuse.
Just two words.
Then his phone vibrated.
Dominic looked at the screen.
Everything in his face changed.
He answered.
“Caruso.”
Silence.
His eyes moved to me.
“Where?”
Another pause.
“Don’t touch anything.”
He hung up.
“What happened?”
Dominic reached for his coat.
“The Vitelli courier was found dead forty minutes ago.”
My stomach dropped.
“The letter?”
“Gone.”
May you like
He stopped at the doorway.
“And whoever killed him knew exactly what time you scheduled the delivery.”
