Four hundred and sixteen people who didn’t deserve to miss their paychecks because my boss was busy terrifying somebody.
I took the folder.
One of the guards outside Dante’s office looked at me.
“You shouldn’t go in.”
“He needs to sign these.”
“Emily.”
“Payroll.”
He stepped aside.
I opened the door.
And stopped.
Sal was on his knees.
Two guards stood behind him.
Dante faced the rain-streaked windows.
A suppressed pistol hung loosely from his hand.
For perhaps half a second, the reasonable portion of my brain suggested retreat.
Then I remembered four hundred and sixteen employees.
“Mr. Marino,” I said. “I need your signature.”
Dante turned slowly.
His expression was unreadable.
“I am handling a personnel issue.”
“The IRS arrives in two hours. If these forms aren’t signed, payroll gets frozen.”
Sal twisted toward me.
“Emily, please tell him—”
“Sal, we are not friends.”
One guard visibly flinched.
Dante walked toward me.
“Leave.”
“I will after you sign.”
I held out his Montblanc.
Then I placed another folder on his desk.
“And I already traced Sal’s theft.”
Silence.
Sal went pale.
Dante’s gaze dropped toward the folder.
“How much?”
“Three million.”
His eyes returned to Sal.
I continued.
“He routed it through a shell company using his mother’s maiden name.”
Sal whispered something that sounded like a prayer.
“It took twelve minutes,” I added. “Honestly, that’s insulting.”
Dante stared at me.
Then I looked down.
Sal was kneeling directly on Dante’s Persian rug.
The rug had been professionally cleaned Tuesday.
I knew because I had personally fought with the cleaning company over their ridiculous surcharge structure.
I sighed.
“Actually, one more thing.”
Dante’s eyes hardened.
“What?”
“Please shoot him at the warehouse.”
Nobody moved.
I pointed toward the floor.
“We had these rugs professionally cleaned Tuesday.”
One of the guards blinked.
“They charge double for blood,” I explained. “I spent forty minutes arguing about the biohazard fee last month, and frankly, Sal is not worth the surcharge.”
Silence.
One second.
Five.
Ten.
Dante’s mouth moved.
At first I thought he was angry.
Then his chest jerked.
A strange sound escaped his throat.
Both guards instinctively shifted.
Sal stopped crying.
And I realized what was happening.
Dante Marino was laughing.
Not smiling.
Laughing.
It sounded rusty at first, as though the mechanism had been abandoned for years.
Then it grew louder.
Dante put the pistol on his desk.
One hand covered his mouth.
It didn’t help.
He laughed harder.
One of the guards looked genuinely frightened.
Sal stared up from the floor.
I stood there holding Dante’s Montblanc.
Eventually Dante looked at me.
There was something almost human in his eyes.
I extended the pen.
“So… signature?”
That made him laugh again.
He took the pen.
Signed the documents.
Then he looked toward Sal.
“Get him out.”
Sal’s face collapsed with relief.
The guards pulled him to his feet.
“Dante—”
“Don’t mistake delay for forgiveness.”
Sal immediately shut up.
They escorted him out.
I gathered the paperwork.
Dante was still watching me.
“You interrupted me,” he said.
“Yes.”
“You insulted one of my captains.”
“Yes.”
“You told me where I should shoot him.”
“I was protecting company property.”
His mouth twitched again.
Then his expression changed.
The amusement disappeared.
Something quieter replaced it.
“When did you find the money?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
“And you said nothing?”
“I wanted proof.”
“You weren’t afraid?”
I considered that.
“Mr. Marino, I have federal auditors arriving in ninety minutes, your restaurant division is missing two liquor invoices, the freight company has a union meeting at three, and somebody scheduled your dentist for the same afternoon as your zoning hearing.”
I lifted the folder.
“I don’t currently have time to be afraid.”
He stared at me.
Then he said something that changed everything.
“Have lunch with me.”
I frowned.
“We have auditors.”
“After.”
“Why?”
His eyes remained on mine.
“Because, Emily…”
For the first time since I’d entered the room, Dante smiled.
“…I want to know who the hell you are.”
And suddenly, inexplicably, that frightened me far more than the gun had

Capitolo 2 – La donna dietro il foglio di calcolo
La storia attraversò l’organizzazione Marino prima di pranzo.

All’una, le persone in tre edifici sapevano che Dante Marino aveva riso.

A due, la storia sembrava essersi evoluta nel fatto che insultavo Dante mentre stavo tra lui e sei assassini armati.

A quattro anni, secondo Tommy, avevo dato a Sal una dichiarazione dei redditi.

“È ridicolo,” dissi.

Tommy scrollò le spalle. “Mi piaceva quella versione.”

La revisione federale si concluse senza disastro.

La gestione delle buste paga è rimasta aperta.

Nessuno è stato arrestato.

Secondo i miei standard, era stato un giovedì eccellente.

Alle 18:20 stavo preparando il portatile quando Dante è apparso fuori dal suo ufficio.

“Pranzo.”

Ho controllato l’orologio.

“Sono le sei e venti.”

“Ero occupato.”

“Si chiama cena.”

I suoi occhi si strinsero leggermente.

“Va bene. Cena.”

“Non posso.”

L’intero piano sembrava diventare più silenzioso.

La gente non diceva a Dante Marino che non potevano fare le cose.

“Vengo a trovare mio fratello il giovedì sera.”

Dante mi ha studiato.

“Hai un fratello?”

“Sì.”

“Cosa fa?”

Non ho risposto subito.

Noah non era un segreto.

Ma lui era mio.

“Vive in una struttura residenziale fuori città.”

L’espressione di Dante cambiò sottilmente.

“Capisco.”

“No, non lo fai.”

Le parole mi sfuggirono prima che potessi fermarle.

Il suo sguardo si fece più acuto.

Sospirai.

“Scusa.”

“No. Continua.”

L’ho guardato.

“Mio fratello ha bisogno di cure supervisionate a lungo termine. È costoso. Ecco perché lavoro qui.”

Qualcosa passò attraverso gli occhi di Dante.

“Ecco perché dodicimila al mese non ti spaventavano.”

“Dodicimila al mese è proprio il motivo per cui dodicimila al mese non mi spaventavano.”

Quel piccolo quasi-sorriso riapparve di nuovo.

“Vai a trovare tuo fratello.”

Ho preso la mia borsa.

“Cena domani.”

“Sembra meno un invito.”

“Non è stato uno.”

La sera dopo, Dante mi portò al Bellaforte, uno dei suoi ristoranti.

Ogni dipendente si raddrizzò quando entrò.

Lo odiavo.