Page 51 of Her Dark Salvation

“I can do that, no problem. When do you want to meet?

“Ugh,” she groaned. “Today is a mess. My afternoon is shot. Department meetings. I have a few errands to run after work, but…” She drew out thebut, and I sensed mischief. “We could go out tonight. A little late-night planning sesh? What do you think?”

“That sounds amazing. I could use a drink after the past couple days.”

“That good, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

She snorted. “It’s a date. Meet me outside Vesuvio at eight.”

“Vesuvio? As in the nightclub?”

“That’s the only Vesuvio I know.” I could almost see her sticking the tip of her tongue between her teeth.

“People like me don’t go to Vesuvio, Siobhán. I’m not exactly a jet-setting partier. Are you sure that’s where you want to go?”

“What? You don’t like free drinks?”

“What do you mean?”

She laughed. “Vesuvio is Marco’s club.”

I sighed. Of course it was. “I don’t know.”

“Comeooon. It’s different during the week. No DJ. No dancing. Just professionals having drinks after work. You’ll be fine.”

I did need a drink and some girl time after the previous day’s Marco-DeVita-induced hot flash. What the hell. “Okay,” I said, resigned yet doubtful.

“Yes! You’ll love it. Promise.”

I chuckled. “We’ll see.”

“See you at eight,” she said and hung up.

I placed the receiver back on the dock and got up to retrieve my coat just as Mr. DeVita walked out of his office.

“Anna.”

“Mr. DeVita. I was about to go to lunch. Did you need anything before I head out?”

“The escrow’s in place?”

“Yes. I sent you an email with the account number and proof of deposit.”

Turns out, Mr. DeVita did have enough capital in reserves, and his debt-to-income ratio, while high, was well within the stipulations required by the purchase agreement. Although, had I actually been his financial advisor, I still would have recommended against the purchase.

“Excellent. I’m taking the rest of the day off, but I want to know as soon as that waiver comes through. If I don’t answer my cell, I’ll be downstairs in the spa.” He walked across the foyer to his apartment.

“Enjoy your break,” I said and meant it. That man was constantly working. He shot me a quick glance over his shoulder, and I stepped onto the elevator and headed to lunch.

The afternoon flew by with two iterations on the model and assembling input files, and suddenly it was four-thirty. I usually left the office around six, but since Mr. DeVita was gone for the day… I closed all the windows on my desktop, put my water bottle in my bag, and checked my email one last time.

There it was. A message from Doug Heller with the subject “Financial District Waiver Approved.” I picked up my cell and called Mr. DeVita. Straight to voicemail. I texted him, waited five minutes, and called again. Nothing. I was going to have to go down to the spa. I sighed. So much for leaving early.

At the back of the main lobby, behind the front desk and past the elevators, a set of copper-clad doors led to the baths that gave Terme di Boston its name. I climbed down two flights of stairs that opened into a foyer with ivy-covered stone walls and trickling fountains. The air smelled clean but not artificial, a combination of eucalyptus and toasted almonds.

“Good afternoon,” I said to the attendant at the front desk. “I’m Mr. DeVita’s assistant. I have an urgent message for him.”

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