Page 37 of Beauty and the Boss

“I know. They want me to deliver two million to a warehouse in the industrial district at midnight.”

Gianni gives a low whistle.

“Listen, Cece’s father wants to pay the ransom. I’ve tried to persuade him to let the outfit handle it but he’s adamant and I can’t go against his wishes for Cece’s sake. But as soon as we’ve got Micah back, I want to know who’s responsible for this. Can you see what you can find out? And start looking into security for him after all this is over. I can’t risk this ever happening again. Keep it all on the down low for now though.”

“Sure, boss, yeah. Leave it with me. You need me there tonight?”

“I’ll let you know,” I say. “I don’t want to drag you into it if I don’t have to. I keep thinking about how badly the Ricci meeting went, what that cost us. What if this is some sort of trap?”

“The Ricci meeting went to shit because of Franco’s temper and itchy trigger finger. Nothing like that will happen tonight,” he reassures me.

“Not if I play it by the book like Dante DeMarco wants me to. I understand his reasoning. I want to make sure we get Micah back too, more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life, but having to wait all these hours just doing nothing…it’s fucking torture.”

I hear him sigh. “I bet it is.”

“Anyway, I’ll keep you updated.”

“Okay. I’ll call Carmello now.”

“Thanks, Gi.” I hang up, finish my cigarette, and go back inside.

An hour later, I walk Carmello out. “I appreciate you coming out so quickly,” I say, opening the DeMarco’s front door.

“Well, like I said, I’ve given them both a little something for the shock and when they wake up in a few hours, they should feel better. Connie’s physical injuries will heal soon enough. The maid did a good job of cleaning her wounds. She’s had a nasty bang to the head but unless she falls unconscious there’ll be no need for hospitalization. Perhaps don’t let her sleep alone tonight, just in case.”

I nod and shake his hand, thanking him again.

As I close the door, Dante finally appears from his office. He has removed his suit jacket and tie and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He looks exhausted.

“Well, that took longer than expected, but it’s done. My financial adviser, Paolo, will bring the money, in cash, later tonight,” he informs me crisply before heading toward the sitting room.

“How are my girls?” I hear him ask Maria.

I follow him in and watch him move from Cece to Connie, stroking their faces, kissing their foreheads. I ache to be able to do the same with Micah tonight.

“I asked Carmello, a private doctor I know, to check them both over,” I say from the doorway. “He’s given them a low dose of a sedative which will wear off in a few hours. They’ll both be fine—physically at least.”

He cocks an ear towards me and nods. “Thank you,” he says.

“I’ll go and make some drinks and food for you both,” says Maria. “You need to keep your strength up.”

I smile gratefully at her as she leaves the room before crossing over to the couch Cece’s lying on and sitting down. I pull her legs up onto mine and gaze down at her, grateful that she’s getting a few hours’ respite from this living nightmare. Dante slumps in the wingback chair near the fireplace and although we don’t speak to each other, we’re able to be in the same room together, at least temporarily. And for that, I’m thankful.

At ten o’clock the doorbell sounds and rouses us all from our collective clock-watching malaise.

“Is that him?” Cece directs the question to her father. She’s been quiet since she woke but not as catatonic as she was. Connie seems more responsive too but still very shaken.

“It will be, yes,” he answers.

Maria shows an obese man carrying a large holdall into the sitting room. His enormous belly strains against his shirt but his suit is bespoke. Dante rises to greet him.

“Paolo, my trusted friend, thank you for this.”

Paolo drops the heavy bag on the floor with a huff. He takes out a handkerchief and mops his sweaty brow. “I must say this is highly unusual, Dante, but I am here to serve you, as always. It’s all here, I’ve counted it myself.” He stuffs the handkerchief back in his pocket. “Is there anything else I can help with?”

Dante slaps his cheek affectionately. “No, but thank you. You’ve helped enough. I would ask you to stay for a drink but as you can see, we’re conducting some family business. Next time, I promise.”

Paolo waves a pudgy hand. “Say no more. I’ll leave you to it.”

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