Chapter 4
Four
AMARA
I was in jeopardy of losing the Crescent Towers.
Nothing was as important as securing the completion of the towers. Nothing. I had worked steadily on this deal for three years. Ever since Dmitry Novikov signed on the dotted line to pay me what my father had always been owed.
I used the additional interest to buy up the land and all the necessary components. I didn’t care if that meant tipping an environmentalist with a hefty bonus or asking the city to grant permits to me at a higher rate. I did whatever it took to close the deal to build my dream project. A luxury casino, hotel, and five-star restaurant. This was my legacy on the city.
When Ciro banged on the door, I had a choice to make—the towers or Luka.
The look in Luka’s eyes. The one that had kept me awake for five years was calling to me. It felt like a channel had opened between us again. But with one decision, one choice, I had kicked him out. Dismissed me.
I exhaled. I couldn’t think of a single reason I ever would have shoved him out of that bedroom. A reason to pry his hungry mouth off mine. Not after he had finally opened up about what happened all those years ago.
Yet, I pushed him out and nearly had Ciro escort him to his car. For a deal. For the project of my life. The Crescent Towers was built off the profits I garnered from the Bratva. When would he put the pieces together? How much had the Novikov attorney, Viktor told him at this point? He knew about the interest rates on his father’s loans, but did he know about all the others?
The last text I read from him sent chills up my spine. I lifted my phone from the nightstand to study it again. I threw my eye mask on the floor when I saw the missed calls and texts from Barbara.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” I quickly dialed her.
“Where have you been?” she asked.
“Sorry, just tell me. Did they vote? Did we get it?”
“The vote has been postponed indefinitely.”
My heart sank. “Indefinitely? That can’t be right.”
The blinds were closed in my room. Only sunlight filtered at the very edges near the drapes. I felt disoriented. I stood to open the curtains.
I hadn’t pulled an all-nighter since college, but that was exactly what happened when Barbara called last night to tell me the sub-committee on gambling legislation wanted to postpone their vote.
I was on the phone with our lobbyist three different times during the night. We scrambled to try to push for an early morning vote. I talked to every big donor I knew. I had to apply pressure. Someone needed to make this vote happen. The success of the Crescent Towers depended on my gambling permits.
I finally climbed into bed at 6 am. I plugged my phone into the charger, turned the volume on high in case there were updates from the team, and pulled a sleeping mask over my eyes.
Barbara exhaled. “I’ve got some ears on the ground. I think I know what happened.”
“Tell me.” I was desperate for answers.
“There’s a new lobbyist. He showed up last night. He has a big backer in the tech industry who are swaying Senators Merritt and Hyde. Apparently, a huge PAC was set up in the last few days with enough money to fund both of their re-election campaigns.”
“I can fund their re-election campaigns,” I argued. This couldn’t be happening. “Who is it? Who is the donor?” I had paid everyone in the city. Hitting the state level wasn’t out of the question.
“You know how these things go. Shell companies fund the PAC. I don’t know who owns the shell yet.”
“I want to know who it is. I want a name.” The landscapers were outside mowing. I turned from the window.
“We’ll find out who it is, but it’s going to take time. I need a few days, maybe a week,” Barbara explained.
I closed my eyes. Delaying a week felt deadly.
“Do you have any leads? Anything?” I grasped at straws.
“All I know is the PAC is called BONO. For the Betterment of New Orleans.”
I shook my head, taking a mental inventory of the PACs I had run across since my reign as the head of the New Orleans Amatos. “Doesn’t ring a bell.” I felt despair. Dread.
“To me, either,” she admitted.
I groaned and plopped on the bed. “Barbara,” I pleaded. “Don’t let this happen to the project. It is the last hurdle. The only hurdle.”
“I won’t. In the meantime, I’ll still use our contacts. Our lobbyist is still working. Construction is going well, right?”
“Yes. It’s on track.”
“That’s good. Keeping the project on schedule is key to pushing the legislators. It’s going to come together, Amara. You’ll see. Focus on those things you can control, and I’ll focus on the others.” She was one of my only employees who called me by my first name. I allowed it because of our mutual respect.
“I could go under,” I whispered. “The entire project could fail.” I was afraid to say it out loud.
“You won’t,” she urged. “It won’t.”
I took a giant inhale. “Call me with any updates. As soon as you hear anything or have a lead on who is behind BONO.”
“I always do. Try not to worry. We’ll figure out who is behind this, and I will pass that information on to you to handle at your discretion.”
The understanding between us was that Barbara did not do my dirty work for me. I had a large-scale army of Capos who were at my disposal. Uncle Gio didn’t agree with the size I had acquired, but it worked. I was profitable. To the extreme.
“Thank you.”
I hung up with Barbara. It was after noon, long past when I usually drove to the office. I would work the rest of the day from home. I wandered to my closet. Work from home meant work casual attire. I saw the red swimsuit hanging by the door.
I remembered Luka’s visit. The kiss by the pool. I touched my lips lightly, wondering if they appeared blue. Luka had kissed them raw. It was a brutal punishing kiss. It drained logic and sanity from my head. I’d waited five years for that kiss. I could still feel it burning my skin. It made me wonder what he had in store for our date tonight. More than that, I wondered why I agreed to go.
Was he going to punish me for what I had done to his family, or was I punishing myself?