Chapter 2
Chapter two
Chrysanthemums
“Sure you don’t want a slice?” Santino asked, gesturing to the heart attack of a pizza that occupied most of the table.
He took a shamelessly large bite of his own slice, watched as his tablemate began to shake his head, and made the deliberate choice to speak again before he’d finished chewing. “It’s fucking delicious.”
Across from him, Maxwell the Manager of Bad Decisions averted his gaze and offered a strained chuckle. “No, thank you, Mr. Guerra. I promised my wife I’d bring something home since I had to stay late. If I ruin my dinner appetite, she’ll have me sleeping on the couch again.”
Santino hummed and licked his fingers, this time swallowing politely before he spoke. “Oh? You didn’t tell her you were grabbing a meal with the boss?” He raised his brows expectantly and kept his grin easy.
“Of course not, sir!” Maxwell’s next laugh sounded more genuine.
“If I’d said something like that, I’d still be stuck on the phone getting nagged on all the reasons I need to be begging for a raise.
” His eyes immediately bulged and he pitched forward in his seat.
“Which I’m not trying to do! I shouldn’t have said that!
You pay me well, really. Shit. I’m sorry, Mr. Guerra!
” He coughed roughly and scrubbed a hand down his face, his voice suddenly dropping to barely a whisper.
“What, uh, what is it you wanted to talk to me about, sir?”
Santino sat back in his seat, legs spread and posture relaxed.
The pizzeria was open, technically, but it also wasn’t.
A fact he had carefully orchestrated. Much like how the other two occupied tables in the space—both far enough away not to be able to overhear a quiet exchange of words—were occupied by men on his payroll.
But Maxwell knew none of that. Maxwell thought they were having a relaxed evening chat about office shit.
Maxwell was a fucking idiot.
“I’m glad you asked, Max,” Santino said. He let his lips lift as Maxwell shifted in his seat. The disrespect was intentional, of course. Whether or not Maxwell recognized that immediately, he’d figure it out quick. Santino continued. “We need to talk about cutbacks.”
The color drained from Maxwell’s face. “Cutbacks, sir?” He practically whispered the question. But the fact that he phrased it like he was confused was its own brand of upsetting.
Still, Santino kept the anger off his face with practiced ease. “Specifically, the one you implemented first thing this morning. The firing you neglected to run through proper channels. Sound familiar?”
Maxwell swallowed hard. “Mr. Guerra, I … I can explain.”
Santino hummed. “Can you? Can you explain why a thirty-one-year-old, hard-working woman with a solid in-house history and only two bullshit complaints on her record was fired without notice this morning?” He leaned forward and rested an elbow on the table, holding Maxwell’s stare.
“Because from where I’m sitting, Max, that looks very much like a targeted act of discrimination which she would be within her rights to sue my company over.
And I’m sure you see my problem with that. ”
Sweat rolled visibly down the side of Maxwell’s face. “Th-that’s not— She has no proof!”
Santino arched one brow. “Come again?”
Maxwell dropped a curled, trembling fist onto the table. “It’s not like she knows whether or not anyone else was let go. She’s not close with anyone in the office. She didn’t make a fuss. And the office is better off without her! It was for the good of the company!”
“The good of the company,” Santino repeated. “So, the staff we currently have can make up for, and exceed, the loss of Ms. Matsunaga’s output? Of course, while maintaining their own.” He knew the answer. He’d looked over the numbers.
It wasn’t that Reiko had been the brightest shining star in her department. But she had been a stable, dependable performer. There was something to be said for workers like those. They held the truest value.
Predictably, Maxwell bobbed his head. “Absolutely, sir,” he said. “You’ll see. That bitch’s loss won’t make a dent.”
Santino blew out a breath and rocked to his feet. He reached for the pizza, closing up the box it already rested in so he could take it home. “It’s a real fucking shame what this world’s coming to, Max.”
Maxwell’s brow twitched, but again he ignored the insult and only looked up in confusion. If he noticed movement at either of the other occupied tables, he ignored it.
Santino met Maxwell’s stare, letting his expression harden. “A man can’t even go out and pick up dinner anymore without getting whacked, you know?”
Maxwell opened his mouth, the confusion in his eyes mounting.
Santino turned away from the table, boxed pizza in hand, and one of their fellow diners opened fire.
He flicked his gaze to the side, where the older man who ran the eatery hid just beyond a doorway, and tipped his head.
They had an understanding, and rumor was old Vin had been looking for an excuse to close up and retire.
A random shooting during business hours that resulted in the death of a dining patron would go a long way.
As would the money that would land in his wallet in two days’ time.
Shame, though. Santino did enjoy the pizza.
The anniversary of her mother’s death was never a good day, but even by normal standards, the previous twenty-four hours had been particularly unfortunate.
Losing her job first thing in the morning.
Having a very awkward and disconcerting encounter with the owner of that company a few short hours after.
All of that, plus her annual visit to her mother’s gravesite, only to come home and discover a letter from her landlord posted to her door.
Of course, it hadn’t been good news. The rent was scheduled to go up in one month’s time.
As if paying rent at all wouldn’t be a huge difficulty without a job.
It was a good reminder to clamp down on any emotional impulses or just the itch to avoid the hard and overwhelming things.
So, Reiko threw her car keys into an out-of-the-way drawer and resolved to spend her day job hunting from her sofa.
She had no idea how ironically uneventful that would prove to be. Though she did like the calmness.
She was able to catch up on the few apartment chores that had accumulated, had time for reading, and still scoured every available site for any possible new job.
Between every distraction task she paused and spent at least half an hour searching and debating with herself on whether or not she met the minimum qualifications to apply for whatever she found.
Did her degree fit the requirements? By a stretch, if at all.
Was her work experience relevant? Sometimes. Other times, it was likely debatable.
Were they offering to pay enough? Almost never.
Reiko sighed and set her phone down. It was possible the day had been too quiet. Yes, she’d sent off a couple of applications, but really only a few hours had passed since. She couldn’t expect to hear anything so soon. She just hated floating in such a state of uncertainty. It made her anxious.
She blamed that anxiety for why she jumped in her seat—maybe even squeaked a little—when someone knocked on the door.
Who on earth would be visiting her? She looked down at the digital display on her phone, confirming what the sharper hue of sunlight through her slanted living room blinds was saying.
It wasn’t exactly late. She just wasn’t exactly popular.
Reiko snorted at herself, snatched up her phone, and stood as the knocking resumed.
Whoever it was clearly wasn’t a delivery person.
She really should have invested in one of those doorbell camera systems that didn’t actually require doorbells.
Not that she had any specific person to be afraid of in the physical sense.
The only one who’d ever hurt her was her.
Shoving the memory aside, Reiko verified that the chain latch was intact, released the deadbolt, and pulled the door open.
She made sure to position herself so she was leaning only halfway around the door, keeping her phone visible to her mysterious visitor.
“Can I help—” The question died on her tongue at the most unexpected sight she could have conjured.
The very same former employer she’d met the day before, Santino Guerra, stood on her poor excuse of a front stoop.
His blond hair looked like it had been recently finger-combed and he wore a lopsided grin above a pale blue button-up that shone like silk and perfectly creased black trousers.
Layered over the expensive shirt was a black, high-collared coat that hung to his knees.
He was an impressive and frustratingly mouthwatering sight, to be sure.
The breath rushed from Reiko’s lungs and adrenaline shot through her. What was going on? Why would he be visiting her, of all people? Her fingers tightened around her phone. She almost missed the chrysanthemum bouquet in his hands as he lifted it higher. He couldn’t know…
“Hello again, beautiful,” Guerra said. His voice was deep and smooth and carried across the small distance between them effortlessly. He held out the bouquet. “For you. A small token of apology for yesterday.”
He knew. It was the only explanation for why he hadn’t gone with roses, or at least a variety. Men always went with one of those options if they felt compelled to get flowers. Though she had no clue why this man was bringing her flowers.
Reiko caught her hand twitching as if to take the bouquet and locked her arms tight against her body. “I don’t understand. What sort of man stalks their ex-employees with flowers of apology? Wasn’t it cutbacks?”