Page 32 of Her Dark Salvation

Mr. DeVita sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I left him there to help find a solution. I am extremely motivated to secure that property, and Vito has decades of experience navigating regulations and bureaucracy. That’s not illegal.”

“Extortion is illegal.” My whispered words remained firm.

He reached for his croissant with relaxed indifference. “Did you hear me threaten anyone?” He raised an eyebrow. “Cause I didn’t.” And took a bite of croissant.

He was right, of course. He’d been pushy, arrogant, and domineering, but he hadn’t threatened anyone.

I narrowed my eyes. “Why did you ask me to come along?”

“Because I want you to read through the permits, help me understand what type of financial information they need, and make sure, leak or no leak, I have enough capital for escrow.”

“Don’t you have a CFO or an accountant for that?”

“I’m the CFO. And I already told you, I don’t trust my accounting department right now.” He sipped his coffee, and the bend of his mouth turned smug. “Don’t forget, the contract you signed did specify you’d be asked to perform tasks usually done by my assistant.”

I twisted my lips into a skeptical smirk. “Your assistant is a financial advisor?”

“No, but if she were, I might ask her to help.”

I huffed out a laugh despite myself and shook my head. Infuriating man.

He pulled out his cellphone, hit a button, and held it to his ear. “Ten minutes. The coffee shop on Washington,” he said and, after a beat, tucked the phone back into his pocket.

He sat back and stretched one leg out in front of him. “What is a tenured finance professor from MIT doing working for Jeff Levitt?”

I inhaled a flake of croissant and unleashed an epic coughing fit.

An eternity passed while I tried to regain composure, my mortification growing with each gasp for air. Mr. DeVita just sat there, patiently awaiting the end of my episode. What I wouldn’t have given for a black hole to appear beneath my chair and swallow me into oblivion.

“Sorry,” I croaked, and soothed my throat and my ego with coffee. I dabbed the tears from my eyes and soldiered on. “First of all, how do you know that?”

“It’s my job to know things.”

“That’s cryptic.”

He shrugged.

“Well, for starters, Jeff is my best friend.”

“I figured based on the pictures.”

“What pictures?”

“The pictures from the profile I had made up for you.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but quickly snapped it shut. I scowled, and the corner of his mouth turned up in a sly hint of a smile.

Of course he’d had a profile made up. Probably knew my childhood dog’s name and bra size. There was no point arguing; it was a done deal, and my emotional well was already drained from the extortion.

I sighed and waved my hand through the air like what I was about to say was no big deal. “I’m considering leaving MIT.”

He blinked the same surprised hesitation I’d seen on his face that first day when he realized I was a woman.

“I’m on sabbatical. Jeff offered me this job because the work aligns with my research. This is my chance to try on the real world, see if it fits.”

He looked at me as if I’d grown another head. “The real world? You’re a tenured professor. Sounds real to me.”

I studied the last dregs of my cappuccino and grabbed my necklace, running the chain between my thumb and forefinger. I’d had enough trouble opening up about my dissatisfaction with Jeff, yet here I was about to launch into my midlife awakening with an overbearing stranger. Maybe I was too drained to clam up. Or maybe it was the genuine interest I’d seen in his face and heard in his voice.

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