A few minutes later, Jonathan returns to the room, loosening his tie and dropping into the chair at the head of the table. “So, you think he’ll hire us?” he asks, his mouth set in a straight line, eyes filled with an emotion close to anxiety.
Jonathan is so successful precisely because he’s always nervous he may not close the deal. That small piece of humility keeps him working harder than anyone else in the game.
Jeff clears his throat, crossing one skinny leg over the over. “Well, I think he’ll come because we’re the best. But I’m no longer sure we want his business.”
Jonathan stares at him incredulously. “Explain.”
“I heard to get his foot in the door out in Nevada, he used serious gang connections. You all may not be familiar with the Borignone mafia, but they’re the most powerful gang on the East Coast.” He moves his arms in front of his chest haughtily.
Now that Vincent requested me to work on the project, Jeff has the audacity to try to stop the entire firm from getting the work. Selfish douchebag. A nagging voice inside my head tells me to agree with him; working with Vincent would be the worst idea on earth. This could be my out. But the words won’t leave my lips. I can’t. I just can’t do it.
Instead, I sit up taller. “Who mentioned anything about mafia connections?” I hate his snide remarks, and I refuse to let them stand, even if they’re true.
“Well, things out there on the reservation aren’t exactly kosher, Eve.” His condescending tone is infuriating. “The Tribal Council was sitting on that land for years. Word on the street is the Borignone mafia had the rivers running red until the Tribe agreed to give Vincent a seat at their table.
“According to my research, Vincent is the son of the big Boss, Antonio Borignone. But because his mother was Native, he has a technical stake in the lands. He graduated from Columbia and proceeded to spend half a decade in prison for a laundry list of illegal dealings. And let the record show, his probation was done just last week.” He lets his eyes roam the room, making sure we’re all paying attention.
I swallow. It feels like I have a pit stuck in my throat.
“Sure, the man is obviously brilliant,” he continues. “Managing to build out the entire Milestone while behind bars couldn’t have been easy. But think about his reach,” he exclaims, throwing his hands into the air theatrically. “A normal man, no matter how intelligent, could never pull that off. Vincent Borignone is a bona fide thug.” He spits out his words confidently as if he’s making a closing argument in front of the jury.
I click my tongue. “Interesting how this information never left your mouth until after he said he wanted to work with me,” I question. “I’ve read the entire file from the beginning and know for a fact that every detail of the Milestone was done legally. Nothing shady—at all. What he chooses to do on his time outside of this work is not our concern.”
“I don’t even want to know how many men were paid off or died so he could sit at the Tribe’s table as a Council member.” He turns to face Jonathan. “Are you sure you want to get involved in a business which could result in a gun to your head? The Borignone mafia is not a simple street gang. They’re internally organized and smart. And they have no qualms in killing to get their way.” He looks to the other associates, garnering their support. They shuffle nervously in their seats, obviously affected.
I’m outraged. “You shouldn’t slander a potential client. It’s totally unprofessional.”
He laughs out loud. “You’re calling me unprofessional? I can only imagine what Borignone is expecting to get from you in addition to legal work, huh?”
My jaw drops as a smile spreads across his face. If I could, I would jump over this table and knock out his teeth. This is a new low, even for Jeff.
“Enough,” Jonathan says dismissively as if the conversation were nothing more than banter between two kids. “I don’t care what he does on his own time. This man will make all of us rich if we get his work.”
I’m shaking with fury. Jeff is only mad because I’ll be center on this project and not him. But with enough time and hard work, my results will do the talking for me.
I wish I could report this to a higher-up, but the result would be a mark on my head. People will think I screamed “harassment” in order to grow in the firm. They’ll spread rumors about me through the legal community, which is a small one. I’ll never be able to get another job again. My rational mind tells me to just pick up and find another firm. But Crier is the best and my pay is unrivaled. In a few years, I can make partner and all of these issues will disappear. They have to.
We all leave the conference room and head to our respective offices. I shut my door behind me before pulling down the blinds and bursting into tears.
And Vincent...how could he be here? My heart races.
My mind goes back to the night I found him sitting on the bed we shared, a bottle-blonde on her knees before him.
The fallout.
I was unable to shower or eat.
Daniela’s onslaught of bullying—throwing salt over the burns Vincent created.
The entire school calling me “whore” to my face.
Imprisoning myself in my dorm when I wasn’t in class.
My chest clenches with memories. All of my carefully crafted walls vibrate with Vincent’s reappearance in my life. My stomach cramps.
I run to the bathroom and drop to my knees onto the green and pink tile floor, emptying the contents of my stomach.
3
VINCENT
I shift uncomfortably in the black Escalade, still reeling after seeing Eve for the first time in years, wondering how it’s possible for a woman to be so beautiful.
I want to storm back into her office and throw her over my shoulder. Lock her in my hotel room and fuck her for hours on end. Make love to her deep and slow, how she loves. My dick hardens and I groan. With a curse, I tell myself I’ve got to keep it together, at least until I get back to my hotel room.
Every single piece of that woman calls to me, both in mind and body. Just the way she listened as I spoke, taking copious notes and biting on her plump bottom lip...I saw the way her eyes took me in; she is still attracted to me. But, there was something else in her gaze too, and it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out it’s the pain I caused all those years ago. Buried under a ton of tough-girl concrete is damage, and it’ll take serious thought as to how I can fix it. Will she even let me?
Ideas bounce around my head, but I need to think on them—analyze the possibilities of where certain paths would take us and figure out which plan has the highest likelihood of bringing her back to me.
Slade is calling, but I hit IGNORE. I’m too shaken up after seeing Eve to speak with anyone.
He and I met at the gym shortly after I got out of prison. The gym’s owner told me he had come home from Iraq a few months earlier and was working as an MMA instructor while he sorted out his life.
His demeanor was angry as hell. With dark circles under his eyes, a perpetual sneer on his face, and body completely ripped with heavy muscles, he had brutality written all over him. In other words, he looked like the perfect sparring partner.
My stress about Eve was compounding by the day, along with pressure from my father to keep myself in the family fold. Probation made me feel like a dog on a leash; I couldn’t get to my girl and I was stuck under my father’s shadow. Training to fight was the only stress release.
At about six feet and two hundred pounds of pure muscle and an obvious slew of anger management issues, Slade was a beast in the ring—exactly what I hoped he would be. After one crazy bout, I asked him how he got to be so good. Turns out he was on the boxing team in the Navy. Later that night, we grabbed dinner and surprisingly, he was a pretty decent guy. It didn’t take long for hanging out to become a weekly occurrence. Soon after, we both opened up about the shit we faced, finding more similarities between ourselves than I would have predicted.
Eventually, I introduced him to Tom, who i
mmediately trusted him. Slade’s quiet, strong, and honorable in the way we were raised to understand honor.
Last month, I let Slade know I would need someone to run security at the Milestone and he jumped at the opportunity. For me, it was the perfect setup. He’s a natural leader, smart, hardworking, and has all kinds of amazing connections because of his military background.
And for Slade, working with me out in Nevada was the opportunity of a lifetime. He had no family or close friends on the East Coast and hated working at the gym.
With the steady pace of the car, my mind turns back to the first time Slade gave me information on Eve.
Vincent: Yo. You around? Meet me at the gym.
Slade: Be there in 20
I shuffle to the white cement wall, placing my phone and a bottle of water on the short ledge.
Stepping to the heavy bag, I stretch for a moment to warm up. I’m planning on going harder tonight than usual, and don’t want to get myself hurt by starting cold.
I finally begin, my fists moving faster and faster against the red bag. I want to keep focused, but it only takes a minute for the bag to turn into a set of bars. The men I killed in the name of the family. The time in lockup I did for the goddamn family. The girl I lost because of the fucking family. Anger crawls in my chest as I realize how much of my life I gave up in the name of loyalty.
I punch harder, heaving as sweat pours down my face as I add in various combinations. The physical intensity should shut my mind up, but it’s not working.
Eve is now an adult. A woman with her own life. And what if she doesn’t want me? I’m an ex-con. A reformed killer. I tore her heart out. She has no idea I did it to save her life. I’ve got to be a better man for her, but I can’t when I’m still locked in New York. Fuck! I continue, punching harder and harder, welcoming the burn in my forearms.
Resting my bare hands on my knees, sweat drips from my forehead onto the mat below me. I lift my head. Slade’s already here; he’s watching me with lowered brows. Heavily tatted-up arms are crossed in front of his chest, a thoughtful expression on his face. Shaking his head from side to side, he gives me the cue to take a break.
Stepping closer, his dark eyes zero in on my knuckles. “Glad to see you stopped wrapping your hands with tape. Your grip will get much stronger this way.” Pointing to my water bottle on the window ledge, he walks over and picks it up. “Hydrate.”
I grab the bottle from his hands, my big shoulders shifting beneath by soaked shirt.
“Ready to hear about your girl? I got good info from my boys out in Cali.”
“Yeah, man. Yeah.” I take another deep pull from the water bottle. The private investigator who works for the family is undeniably good, but I didn’t want anyone finding out how desperate I’ve been to learn about Eve; getting her back on my father’s radar is the last thing I would do. I did all the internet searching I could on my own but wanted to wait until I met someone I could trust before doing actual digging.
He leans against the cracked white wall as I pour more water down my throat.
“She’s doing well. Still close to Angelo. Her phone records show calls at least once a month to him.”
“Good. I was hoping Angelo would keep taking care of her,” I murmur to myself.
“Your girl also managed to finish her undergraduate degree in two and a half years and went directly to law school. She’s now working at one of the best law firms in the country doing real estate transactional work out in L.A.”
I already knew this from my own searches but hearing it out of Slade’s mouth has my chest filling with deep pride.
“She volunteers twice a week at the Kids Learning Club in Los Angeles as a tutor for underprivileged kids. Place is pretty run down, but she goes on Mondays and Wednesdays. As far as relationships are concerned, she’s got herself a boyfriend. Been with him for a few months now. Last few years it’s been a string of nice guys who come in and out of her life. This new one’s a doctor at Sinai.”
I face him, crunching the now empty bottle of water in my hands. “I’ll head over to California this week.”
His eyes flash, startled. “Fuck no,” he exclaims. “You aren’t risking your probation.”
My heart beats erratically. “You don’t understand what we went through. She and I. We were only kids. I-I fucked up. She was everything. And I—” I start sweating again.
He pats my shoulder with his hand. “I know, brother.” His voice is calm as he presses his lips together. “You’ve explained the situation. But this is how I see it. Your girl’s life was shit and she’s finally gotten to a good place. Okay, so she’s been with other guys. So fuckin’ what?” He shrugs. “You can go get her again, but when you do, it’s gotta be maturely. Not when you’re out on parole, true?”
I know he’s right. When I go back for her, it’s gotta be at a time when shit is clear. I’m a man now, no longer an irrational kid.
“I’ll keep watching her. Don’t worry.” He turns his face to the center of the gym. “Time to work.”
We don’t spar, but instead, put ourselves through treadmill sprints and weighted sled pushes. With each passing minute, the pain sets deeper in my chest until I swear to God I feel like I’ve got a gaping hole in my center. After forty minutes, he grabs a towel to head out.
“You gotta stop, man. It’s enough.”
“Nope,” I reply easily, not nearly exhausted enough to give up. I step back onto the treadmill and turn up the speed, ready for more.
I get into my hotel room and unbutton my shirt, immediately calling Slade. He answers with a “Yo,” and I begin without preamble.
“She’s changed, man.”
“It’s been seven years. Don’t tell me you thought you’d see the same college girl you knew.”
I drop into a chair by the window, imagining her beautiful face.
“So now you’ve seen her. You still want to hire her? There are lots of other—”
“Yup.”
“Honestly, I’m surprised she didn’t throw her legal pad at your head when you walked inside,” he chuckles.
“Need her schedule,” I grunt. Lucky for me, Slade hacked into her work computer and Outlook account.
“Already got it. I’ll shoot you an email now.”
I hang up. Opening my laptop and clicking on the browser, I immediately find his email in my inbox. Turns out Eve has a black-tie event tonight with the Kids Learning Club at the Beverly Hilton.
I move to the edge of the white queen-sized bed with my laptop open. I know I shouldn’t show up to an event Eve’s at; I mean, that’s stalker shit right there. Then again, it’ll give me a chance to see the new woman she’s become. I won’t stay long. Just long enough to see what she’s like in a social setting so I can plan the right way to get her back. There’s only so much information photographs and schedules can give me.
I abruptly stand, feeling antsy. Pacing the room in long strides, I walk from one end to the next. I always think better when I’m moving.
The truth is that yeah, I want to see her. I want to grab her and fess up to all the dirty lies I told all those years ago. But I can’t rehash all that shit. If I come to her all intense like I did in college, she’ll run away. The last thing she wants—or needs—is a redo of a relationship that ended in heartache. No. If I do this, it has to be wisely. I’ll come to her as a new man, through business, in a setting she’s comfortable and confident in. Slowly, I’ll slide myself back inside her heart. When the time is right, I’ll tell her the truth about how I left things before prison. I won’t just shove it down her throat or force her to believe me. The truth has to be revealed organically.
I used to be an aggressive, angry kid with no self-control. I want to show her how I’ve grown up. I crack my knuckles, finally feeling secure in this plan. I can’t force her back to me. She needs to realize on her own that the love we shared was true.
Still, I want to see her tonight. No damn way I’m sitting alone in a hotel room when E
ve and I are in the same city. I pick up the room phone, dialing the concierge.
“Hello, Mr. Borignone. How may I help you?”
“I need a tuxedo for this evening.”
4
EVE
I’m still at my desk when a hair stylist and makeup artist strut into my office side by side, each rolling a small black suitcase behind her. It’s after six, and the Kids Learning Club gala starts in a little over two hours. Luckily, I already have my gown, shoes, and bag all hanging in my office closet, courtesy of Lauren. Seriously, I need to thank that girl. If not for her, I’m not sure how I’d manage a life outside the office. The gift cards over Christmas just aren’t enough.
I raise my head, acknowledging their entry.
While still at risk for breaking down in tears, I continue to use my coping skills to keep my emotions afloat. Rule number one: Don’t stop working, and keep your eyes glued to the page. Currently, I’m reviewing a contract for a lease assignment. It’s boring as hell, but it’s what I do.
“Eve, right?” the taller girl asks, bringing my focus back to her. She bites her cheek nervously. Wearing her hair long and wavy with ends dipped in pink, she stares at me with wide eyes, as though I may bite her head off.
The second girl wears a micro-mini skirt, short black combat boots, and a torn T-shirt. “I’m makeup,” she says, blinking behind two pounds of black mascara and a heavy row of false lashes.
I exhale, trying to relax the hard edges of my face; it’s difficult to morph from high-strung attorney to easygoing and friendly. “Yeah, I’m Eve. You guys can set up over here behind me in front of the window. I’ll continue to work while you do your thing.” I force my lips into a smile.
Redemption (Vincent and Eve #3) Page 5
