Page 77 of Under the Mistletoe
He’s transporting something else. For himself? But that doesn’t make sense, I’ve gone through most of his publicly available business information. There’s nothing that indicates a separate business.
Could he be moving things for someone else?
I sit back in my chair, stunned. I think I just worked out where Marcus Jasper is getting his money from. As my brain goes into overdrive, I come to the realization that Marcus Jasper could be getting his money from a criminal syndicate. It’s a long shot. A pie-in-the-sky idea. I’ll need more evidence before I throw those kinds of accusations around. But everyone is wondering where he got his funds to invest so confidently in Asia, and given this article explains the rise in such business matters, it could be possible.
I pick up my phone to call Donovan, but pause, knowing he’s in an all-day meeting with some key customers, along with the marketing team, and can’t be interrupted. Especially not for just a hunch. No, I need more information. I need solid proof.
I set the phone down and push up my glasses before my eyes hook on another article. A one-day business summit is taking place today, where Marcus Jasper is a keynote. I could go. He’s a horrible man, and I prefer not to be in the same room as him, but maybe I can chat with him some more. Maybe ask a few questions that may give me an answer to help form a more solid opinion. I could be totally wrong, but I’m rarely wrong about these things. That’s what got me this promotion in the first place.
So I grab my coat and scarf and call Gordon. I’ll just go for an hour. What harm can it do?
I write my name on a badge and walk into the room. It’s a small affair, nothing like where Donovan presented at Lake Placid, but there are enough people here for me to hide a little. I look around, spotting some familiar faces. No one’s here from the textile industry, though, and as I look at the brochure, I realize this summit is more focused on general business matters as a whole.
I’ve missed his keynote, making it here just in time for the networking lunch, so I head to the food table and grab a plate. I paid the fee, so I might as well get lunch out of it.
“You're Donovan York's new girl, aren’t you?”
I look up at the man and freeze. I don’t know him. I don’t want to know him. Matteo ‘Teo’ Viscari is a man who needs no introduction. Pushing fifty, he’s smooth, old-money Italian American. Rumors are that he’s the head of one of the mob families based here in New York. He owns half of Manhattan. They call him Teflon Teo, because nothing ever sticks to him. The police can never charge him with a thing, even though everyone knows he’s dirty.
“Jessica Johnson.” I put my professional voice on and hold out my hand. His eyes leave mine to look at my hand before he looks back at me. My heart thuds, and I wonder how I can get myself out of this situation. He grabs my hand, lifts it to his lips, and kisses my knuckles. I swallow.
“Pleasure is mine.” He lowers my hand.
“Are you enjoying the conference?” I blink. Are we having a conversation?
“I was a little caught up this morning, so I just arrived. Hoping to hear some great presentations after lunch.”
“As was I.” His eyes flick over my head as something else takes his attention.
“Excuse me. I have some business to attend to. It was a pleasure to meet you… Jessica.” He smooths his tie down his front, his smile oddly warm as he steps around me, and he’s gone.
I exhale, my hands shaking where I grip on to the small plate I’ve ladened with a sandwich and a muffin, neither of which is particularly appetizing right now. Walking through the crowd, I find a quiet spot near a large plant and survey the room, all while attempting to eat the muffin, my mouth now dry.
Mid-chew, I pause. Because while I’m somewhat hidden by the large plant and other people mingling nearby, my eyes rest on the man who just gave me the shivers. He’s over to the side, out of view of most people, and I see him shaking hands and grinning.
Acting like they’re best friends, he’s grinning at Marcus Jasper. My theory with his business dealings is getting a whole lot clearer. Any honest businessman would never be seen dead with a mobster like Teflon Teo. Just a photo of the two of them together would be enough to start an investigation. I look around. No one else can see them. Everyone else is hidden by a panel. Except me, the only person off to the side with the perfect view. I then see the strangest thing. Teflon Teo brings his hand out of his pocket and drops it into Marcus’ suit jacket pocket. The move is so slight, so minimal, that no one would even see it. Unless they were in the exact spot as I am. Hiding near a large potted plant.
Right then, Marcus’ eyes land on me, and he blanches before he schools his face quickly.
I immediately turn, giving them my back, and my mind races with what to do. I don’t think he saw me. I mean, I’m hidden by large green palm leaves. I’m also not on the guest list today, so he wouldn’t be expecting me here. I should leave. I should research this some more. I need to build evidence, but doing so now leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
Feeling well out of my depth, I decide I need to leave and talk to Donovan. I move quickly, placing my still full plate on a nearby table, and I walk swiftly toward the exit.
“Leaving so soon?” Marcus Jasper steps in front of me, and I stop abruptly.
“Hello, Marcus. Nice to see you.” I’m polite, even though my insides are churning. His eyes are ablaze. He’s hiding secrets that he realizes I’m starting to uncover.
“What, no Donovan today?” He makes a show of looking around, even though he knows Donovan isn’t here.
“He’s busy. I thought I would come to learn some things, meet some people… but I have to rush now. I’m needed back in the office.” I try to walk past him, but he steps in front of me, stopping my getaway once again.
“Needed for your brain or your pussy?”
“Excuse me?” I rear back, shocked.
“Tell me, Jessica, do you go over the quarterly financials while sucking his dick in his office? Is that why he hired you? Or are you more of a bend over and take it kind of girl?”
“Clearly, the women in your office are not treated with the same respect Donovan offers,” I tell him, not sure where my bravado is coming from.
