Chapter 4 - The Man Marcus Used to Be
Dominic did not tell me about the photograph.
That would matter later.
At the time, all I knew was that Marcus spent the afternoon making me laugh.
He took me to a tiny bookstore in Greenwich Village.
Bought me an old hardcover edition of Jane Eyre after I mentioned my father used to read it aloud badly.
Then, outside beneath a gray sky, he stopped me.
“You look beautiful when you forget you’re worried.”
I smiled.
“Are compliments your entire strategy?”
“Is it working?”
“Possibly.”
He touched my cheek.
This time I kissed him.
It lasted perhaps three seconds.
Warm.
Gentle.
Completely wrong.
I knew it before we separated.
Marcus knew it too.
“Dominic,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“That’s who you were thinking about.”
“No.”
He smiled sadly.
“You’re a terrible liar.”
My phone rang.
Dominic.
I almost ignored it.
Then answered.
“Hello?”
“Where are you?”
“Out.”
“I need you at the office.”
“Is this work?”
“No.”
“Then ask nicely.”
Silence.
Marcus raised an eyebrow.
Dominic exhaled.
“Diana. Please come back.”
That frightened me.
Dominic Caruso saying please meant something had gone terribly wrong.
I arrived twenty minutes later.
Anthony stood beside Dominic.
A photograph lay on the desk.
Marcus.
Enzo Vitelli.
My stomach tightened.
“When?”
“This morning,” Dominic said.
“Before he met you.”
I looked at him.
“You had me followed?”
“No. I had Marcus followed.”
“That’s supposed to make it better?”
“He met the brother of a murdered courier while an internal leak is being investigated.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“I’m telling you now.”
“After letting me spend hours with him.”
Anthony quietly left.
Dominic waited until the door shut.
“I needed to know what he wanted.”
“You used me.”
His face changed.
“No.”
“You knew I was meeting him.”
“Yes.”
“You watched.”
“I made sure you were protected.”
“Without my consent.”
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
“And gathering evidence.”
His silence answered.
I grabbed my purse.
Dominic caught my wrist.
Not painfully.
Instantly, he released it.
“Diana.”
“I kissed him.”
His face went still.
I did not know why I told him.
Maybe because I was angry.
Maybe because I wanted to hurt him.
It worked.
Dominic looked as though I had put a knife somewhere invisible.
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want him?”
“That is none of your business.”
His voice dropped.
“It became my business the moment he used you to access me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know Marcus.”
“Then tell me why.”
Dominic stared at me.
Finally, he opened a drawer and removed an old photograph.
Two young men stood beside an older man.
Dominic, perhaps twenty-five.
Marcus, younger and smiling.
The older man looked enough like Dominic that I understood.
“My father,” Dominic said. “Salvatore Caruso.”
He pointed at Marcus.
“Marcus’s brother, Paolo, worked for him. Eight years ago, Paolo discovered Salvatore was laundering money through a construction company.”
I gave him a look.
Dominic understood.
“The problem wasn’t the laundering. Paolo was taking money from it.”
“What happened?”
“My father ordered him brought in.”
“Brought in?”
Dominic’s eyes darkened.
“For men like my father, words had flexible meanings.”
Paolo died before anyone reached him.
Shot inside his apartment.
Marcus blamed the Carusos.
“Did your father order it?”
“I spent two years finding out.”
“And?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
Dominic looked at the photograph.
“Enzo Vitelli.”
My blood chilled.
“Why?”
“Paolo wasn’t only stealing from my father. He was selling information to the Vitellis. Enzo believed Paolo was keeping part of the money.”
“And Marcus knows?”
“I told him.”
“He didn’t believe you.”
“No.”
Dominic opened another file.
“Three years ago, I found proof.”
Bank transfers.
Photographs.
A statement from a dying accountant.
“Why didn’t you show Marcus?”
“I did.”
“What happened?”
“He burned the statement in front of me.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“Because hatred had become more useful to him than truth.”
The door opened.
Marcus stood there.
No one had heard him arrive.
His expression was empty.
“You always did love telling stories, Dom.”
Dominic moved subtly between us.
Marcus noticed.
“Relax. If I wanted Diana hurt, she wouldn’t be standing there.”
The sentence changed the air.
I stepped backward.
Marcus saw it.
Pain crossed his face.
“Poor choice of words.”
“What do you want?” Dominic asked.
Marcus tossed something onto the desk.
A flash drive.
“The Vitellis are moving against you.”
Dominic did not touch it.
“And why would you warn me?”
“Because Enzo killed his own brother last night.”
The room went silent.
Marcus looked at me.
“The courier wasn’t collateral. He found out Enzo had someone inside Caruso Holdings.”
“Who?”
Marcus’s smile held no warmth.
“That’s the million-dollar question.”
Dominic studied him.
“You met Enzo this morning.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To make him think I still want revenge badly enough to help him.”
“Do you?”
Marcus looked at Dominic.
“For eight years, yes.”
Then he looked at me.
“Until recently.”
My stomach twisted.
Dominic’s voice turned dangerous.
“Leave her out of this.”
Marcus laughed.
“That’s rich coming from you.”
He moved toward the door.
“Check the drive.”
Dominic did.
The files contained photographs, wire transfers and internal schedules.
One photograph stopped my breathing.
It showed a woman leaving our office building at midnight.
Blonde hair.
Red coat.
A familiar profile.
My sister.
Rachel.
Beneath the photograph was a bank transfer.
$75,000.
From a shell company controlled by Enzo Vitelli.
May you like
To Rachel Bennett.
Three days before the courier was murdered.
