Page 45 of Ms. Fortune

Before I can completely go off the deep end, Taylor opens the office door and peeks his head in.

“He’s here. I’ll bring him right in.”

Brandon thanks him and gets up to lean against the desk, looking like the billionaire CEO that he is, controlled and commanding. I take the seat he just abandoned; my knees are getting wobbly.

“Normandy,” Brandon calls my attention to him but doesn’t say anything else. He holds my gaze, and I calm down almost instantly. I don’t know how or why, but I’m not going to question it. I want to hold his hand so badly, grab onto him for dear life, but I also don’t want to look like a complete weakling. I’ll just take the comfort that look gave me and run with it.

The door flies open again, and a tall, heavyset man with dark hair and eyes comes in, with Taylor following behind and staying at the door.

“Frank, I’m Brandon. Nice to meet you.” Brandon holds out a hand to the man, not moving from his perch against the desk. The man studies him and nods before taking his hand to shake. Brandon then introduces Chelsie and me before directing him to take a chair.

“I need to make this quick. I can’t be gone for too long, or it’ll raise suspicion.” Frank seems almost more nervous than I am. That’s not a great sign.

“So, what is it you need my cooperation with, Mr. Santangelo?” I ask, happy to get to the heart of the matter.

“Frank. Call me Frank.” He shifts his massive frame to face me. “It actually will involve the two of you if I can convince you to participate.”

“Go on. We’re listening.” I nod to include Brandon. I didn’t know he would be a part of whatever this is.

“Here’s the thing. Louie is already making these arrangements, so it’s more that we want to get ahead of it and control the process and outcome.”

“Arrangements for what?” Brandon’s forehead creases with concern.

Frank swallows hard, avoiding my eyes, but looking directly at Brandon. “Kidnapping Ms. Blake for a large ransom from you. As soon as he saw the two of you get involved with each other, he started chomping at the bit to get this in motion. So, the FBI wants to turn this whole thing into a sting to nab Calnetta, if possible.”

Brandon practically leaps off the desk, making me flinch. “What? Absolutely no fucking way.” His face is stern, but I see the fear behind his eyes. I’m too stunned to even respond. All I can do is watch the two of them spar while my heart races.

“Mr. Carmichael, as I said, he’s already got the gears moving on this, but we can control it and make sure that nobody gets hurt while finally getting Calnetta on the racketeering charges we’ve been building against him. I’ve been embedded with him for almost three years, and this is the only real chance I’ve seen to bring him down hard. This kind of charge will be the final nail in his coffin and send him away for the rest of his miserable life.”

“Can you guarantee Normandy’s safety?” Brandon asks, deftly avoiding the glare I throw his way.

“Excuse me?” I scoff. “I don’t remember agreeing to do this.” I can’t believe Brandon would be so quick to throw me to the wolves like this.

“Obviously, Normandy. That’s why I asked if your safety could be guaranteed. Because if it can’t, there’s absolutely no way you’d even consider it. Right?” He turns back to Frank. “Can the FBI guarantee anyone’s safety?”

Frank shifts uncomfortably in his chair as he eyes me cautiously. “Nobody could guarantee total safety. That’s an impossible condition in any circumstance.” He shakes his head in disappointment. “And here I thought you would want to see the man that killed your father pay for his crimes. I guess family really isn’t what it used to be.” He shrugs his shoulders to accentuate his guilt trip.

“Now that’s just fucking low, and you know it.” Brandon steps up to Frank, and I can feel Taylor behind me move in closer. “Is that how the FBI recruits people? By shaming them into it? You’ve been hanging with Calnetta too long. There’s no way Normandy is going to do anything if that’s how she’s treated.”

I glance at Chelsie to see how she’s responding to all of this, and she’s just as pale with her eyes wide, taking it all in. Not too unlike myself. Though, I don’t like being talked about like I’m not even in the room like Brandon is doing right now. I didn’t give him authority to speak for me, and his assuming he can rubs me the very wrong way.

“Mr. Santangelo, how about you tell me exactly what you’re asking me to do, and I’ll make the decision based on that information, okay?” I flash him a syrupy sweet smile, letting him know I don’t mean any of its assumed joy.

He lifts a brow at me, examining me closer, and it’s some kind of test. I cross my arms, waiting for him to go on, and ignore Brandon running a hand through his hair in frustration in the corner of my eye. I’m not sure what kind of woman he thought I was, but it’s apparent that I’ve surprised him somehow. Maybe because I was initially quiet when he came in, he wasn’t expecting me to speak up for myself. Well, surprise, shithead. Deal with it.

He clears his throat. “Fine. To give you a basic summary, we’d like you to allow yourself to be kidnapped, where you’ll be under my protection at all times. If there’s even an inkling of funny business, we pull the pin, blow up the plan, and get you out. A ransom demand will be made to Mr. Carmichael, which I’m assuming you’ll agree to pay, so have your bank account ready with a large amount of cash….”

“Doesn’t the FBI provide that? Like fake bills or something?” I can’t believe Brandon’s reaction now is to the need for him to put up money to save me. I stare at him, incredulous.

“That’s what you’re worried about now?” I can’t keep the shock out of my voice.

“What? Of course not. The money is absolutely nothing.” His jaw tightens, and a dimple pulses briefly. “I just figured there was another way since this is a setup.” I can tell he senses that he’s digging a deeper hole for himself. “I have no problem with arranging for cash. Please continue.”

Wow. I’ve never seen Brandon so upended before. This really is getting to him. Good. Because it’s been getting to me for a while now. I refocus on Frank.

“This is the twentieth century, Mr. Carmichael. We’re not talking about a suitcase full of cash money in bills. Everything is real streamlined nowadays. It will all be done electronically to some untraceable offshore accounts. Well, mostly untraceable if we can keep the government’s big nose out of it. Everything leaves a fingerprint, even things without fingers.” He chuckles at his own lame joke. “Anyway, it’s that simple. You pay the money, he hands over Ms. Blake, we take him down for good, nobody gets hurt.”

“Why can’t you just arrest him for our dad’s murder if you know he did it?” Chelsie chimes in. It’s something I’ve been wondering about too.

---