Chapter 21
Ellie
Kat was in her element. The goon Ringo made her pick up from the airport wasn’t what I expected.
In fact, he wasn’t a goon at all, but a polished business type with just a hint of distinguished gray edges kissing each ear.
What he wasn’t was jovial. The last-minute changes, and the forced trip to Chicago from his base in Las Vegas irritated him.
But Kat handled him, his two bodyguards, and the staff of CCI with the grace of a professional executive.
So well, he was in deep discussion with her about her vision for the company.
Even without the formalities, she was in. I was happy for her.
But I couldn’t help feeling like part of my childhood was being erased.
I mean this was the woman I played hooky from school with.
And now she was explaining not only her new role, but all the ways the business could be improved.
And from what I could see, she had everyone eating out of her hands.
This was her dream career. One she had worked her ass off for.
I wasn’t going to do anything to mess it up.
That’s why I was crowd watching rather than trying to squeeze my way against the west-facing windows to watch the boats work their way up and down the green river. I’d seen it often enough on TV and a couple of times in real life to know the ritual by heart.
Ringo, however, had never seen it. He was in danger of falling out the window with how hard he pressed against the glass to watch the spectacle. “All this because of a holiday?”
“Your holiday,” I reminded him. “You’re part Irish.”
His mouth hung open. “I never felt Irish, but…” His eyes danced with excitement.
I bit my lip. He’d never known his heritage because of his fucked-up mother.
The urge to change that rose from my chest. I wanted to get married in Ireland.
A Catholic church or a castle… or maybe even a pub like my own.
I also wanted everyone there from both the bar and Mario’s family, just in case he needed a distraction from the weight of discovering what he missed.
And then we’d go to Sardinia and party with the centenarians.
We’d drink mirto at midnight and skinny dip in the ocean.
That meant the date was going to be summer. Maybe late fall so we could avoid tourists? I’d have to ask Allie what was the right time. Of course, it also would be at least a year from now because I wanted her as my bridesmaid. Kat, too.
“You are now. Everyone’s Irish this weekend, so… learn.”
He sent me a smile of gratitude.
I liked that look.
His eyes shifted to the crowds below. Something had caught his attention. What I didn’t know, but Kat picked that moment to extract herself from the crowd and snag my arm. “Bathroom. Girl talk. Now.”
What could I do? I followed her into the lush powder room that created a transition between the office and the utilitarian portion of the space. “What?”
Kat was breathless, her professional mask set aside for me. “That man owns eight luxury hotels. One of them is a flagship they modeled the Burj Al Arab after. Not just that, but the industrial holdings and synergistic assets are immense. You know what this means, right?”
“Not a clue. What is a Berg Al-whatever?”
Her face went blank as she tried to figure out a way to explain it to me.
“Fine. One man… just one…” she took a deep breath and recalibrated, “I need to go a bit more basic than that. Here goes, the cake out there. It’s cut into 24 pieces.
One man holds a whole piece. The rest of this entire country gets the remaining pieces.
That’s how much that guy is worth out there. ”
Now I wanted cake.
“On a scale of one to ten.”
“Definitely an eleven.”
Well, shit. Now, I was really happy for her. “You mean Ringo knows someone with more money than—” I didn’t say God because what would he need money for? “The Catholic Church?”
Kat thought about it. “Maybe?”
Wow. “Can he buy the Sears Tower?” I still called it that. You can’t change decades of indoctrination. Willis didn’t roll off the tongue nearly as well.
“He probably owns a part of it.”
“Cool. Is that what has you freaked out?”
“No, it’s the fantasy. That’s the problem.”
I studied her. Out there she’d been the picture of classy executive. In here she was my bestie from Beverly. And she was scared shitless. “You worked your butt off for this fantasy.”
“Yes…”
She certainly didn’t sound sure of herself. “That scares you?”
“No, it’s the suddenness. I mean, last weekend I was just needling your boyfriend, making him walk on tip toe, and he just casually buys a company and knows—” Kat lost words for a moment. “—him!”
I tried the truth on for size. “He also murders people for fun.”
Her jaw dropped open, then she laughed at me. “Good one.”
So much for honesty. “He knows people. Is that wrong?”
Kat’s eyes got a little bigger. “It doesn’t happen. It’s not natural. Girls like you and I we work hard, fight our way to what we think is the top, get a half-decent life, but it’s still crap compared to… this.” Her arms waved around to indicate the posh bathroom and the accompanying posher office.
I raised an eyebrow. “It’s almost as if you won the lottery. Congratulations.” I wasn’t joking. I was serious.
She stared at me. “That’s it. You’re lucky. You are a walking, talking good luck charm.”
I crossed my fingers in front of her. “You’re going to jinx me. Stop.”
Kat sucked in her breath. “Right. We don’t talk about that sort of thing. Just enjoy it, right?”
I shook my head. “No. You own it. That’s what you need to do. You’ve worked hard, you know your shit. Now go out there before someone wonders if you flaked on them.”
With a quick check of her eyeliner, Kat did just that. “You’re the best,” she shot at me before exiting.
Remember that when I put you behind my sister in the bridesmaid order.
I blew out a breath. I hadn’t told her about my Irish plans.
There was time. I checked my makeup and slipped back into the crowd.
This time I elbowed my way to the windows.
It was much easier since the boats with the green dye cannons had all left.
Now the river was dotted with pleasure cruise boats and tourist regattas giving them an up close and personal view of downtown.
Boring.
Even the crowds thought so. They’d left the park below and were making their way east for the parade set to start in an hour.
Ringo must be around here somewhere. I searched for him in the cluster by “Edward.” For a man with one name, everyone wanted a piece of him. Maybe that was a thing. Drop your last name and refer to yourself in third person and suddenly you’re famous.
It was probably the other way around. Like some big cosmic in-joke. If you didn’t know them well enough to call them by their first name only, then you weren’t worthy.
Ringo wasn’t in any of the conference rooms, or by the food, or even in the lobby where I could monitor the exit to the men’s room discreetly without looking like a perv.
The bartender exited, and I took the moment to ask him if he’d seen my boyfriend in there.
“Nope, it’s empty.”
Huh.
People really shouldn’t leave me unsupervised. That never ended well. I was bound to blurt out something and ruin Kat’s chances forever.
An hour passed as I sat on the western-facing sofa watching the reflections in the windows of the hotel across the street. Ringo was still a no-show.
Kat plopped down next to me. “Hey, having fun?”
“No.”
That got her attention, because she knew that tone meant one of two things. Someone was going to get socked in the eye, or something was going to be set on fire. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t find Ringo.”
She shot me a side-eye. “For real.”
I nodded. If I crossed my arms and legs any tighter they’d be permanently attached to the wrong sides. “I think he left.”
One nervous glance toward the crowd by Edward later, she asked, “Should I ask him?”
My groan was closer to a growl.
“I’ll ask.”
“Don’t get yourself in trouble for me.”
She shrugged. “What are besties for?”
“Be discreet. It’s not a big deal.” The lie sat crooked in my throat.
Jinxed. Just by mentioning my luck, she’d undone the juju. That’s how it worked. You couldn’t have nice things once you realized you shouldn’t.
Instead of imagining him cheating on me, I imagined much worse scenarios. He’d gotten a call. Don Manca wanted him to chase down someone and drown him in the green river. He’d do it, too.
That made me second-guess my Irish plans.
Could I be the woman who waited at home for him to waltz in hours…days…maybe even weeks later? Could I handle this life? I wasn’t afraid of the Edwards, or the glitz, or the caviar. I was afraid of losing Ringo’s smile. What if each contract made him lose pieces of his soul?
I shook my head to clear out the foolishness. He probably…
Fuck. There was no probably about it. He would have waited to tell me if it was something innocent.
The business deal was done. The new owners of Conti, Inc.
, were all here. The old owners were mostly here, enjoying one last hurrah with their staff.
Even some of the more dubious types had shown their faces.
One in particular reminded me of the late patriarch.
I’d had the misfortune to meet Don Conti one horrible morning that ended in a bloodbath.
Of course, I passed out for that part. But I’d seen his daughter shoot him.
Both had that hooked nose. Both of them stood with an arrogant chin wedged outward as if daring a fist to punch it.
I stood up and brushed the wrinkles out of my green dress pants and approached.
“Hi, I’m Ellie Jacobs. You can call me, ‘El.’” I stuck a hand out, waiting.
He turned his beak toward me and raised a bushy eyebrow. “Jacobs? As in the granddaughter of Alfred Pulaski?” He took my hand and didn’t shake it, only held it in place.
I didn’t like the way his grip heated my hand to the point of sweat. “The one and only. Did you know him?” A.K.A., are you a mobster?
“I didn’t have the good fortune. Alfonzo Conti-Messina, at your service. But please, call me Al, all my friends do.”
Ah, I was right about that nose. “Are you related to my… uh… friend, Ringo?”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Just recently.”
I feigned interest long enough that he let my hand go.
Thankfully, it slid out of his hand without leaving a slimy trail.
“How do you like the renovations on your condo?”
He knew about that? Aw shit. He was the mistress guy. “I could do without the crime tape garland. I mean, it’s not Christmas anymore. And the yellow clashes with my St. Patrick’s Day decorations.”
His face lit up with amusement. “Now I see it.”
Fuck. “See what?”
He sobered. “What attracted Mr. Devlin to you.” The scrutiny in his gaze was unsettling.
“Oh goodie. It must be my charming personality, or my extreme brilliance. Perhaps even my dazzling portfolio.” The blarney was coming fast and thick. I needed to curb it before I got my ass in trouble.
His eyes dipped to my mouth.
I took a step back.
A quirk of his mouth broke his scrutiny. “You’re wasted on a man like him.”
I faked a glance at my bare wrist. “Would you look at the time. I have a bar to open.” If I took the Red Line south and called a rideshare to take me the rest of the way, I’d make it with plenty of time to open.
Surprisingly, my phone buzzed just as I finished talking. “Damn it. Sorry, I got to take this. It’s my sister.”
Alfonzo dipped his head. “The woman who married Mario Valentini?”
Now I knew he was a bad guy. “Married? She’s his queen. ‘Got the whole family crest ring and everything. Don’t underestimate her.”
With that, I turned my back to him and took the call with just enough volume he could eavesdrop. Because I knew he was the type who would. Ringo did it all the fucking time. “Big sis, what’s up?”
“Did you tease Mrs. Carpello when you left my place last week?”
I thought back to the day, and smirked. “Duh.” Nosy old bat. “Lemme guess, she found her address book and called you.”
“Well, yes, but not about that. She thinks someone broke into my house.”
“Today?” Of all days… it was the city’s St. Patrick’s Day Saturday celebration, and the bar was going to be a madhouse.
I had a shit-ton of prep to do. I almost tried to talk Ringo out of coming here.
Which reminded me that he ditched me, stole Kat out from under me for the whole day, and made me dress up for the business crowd.
I spun to pace and almost ran into Alfonzo Conti-Messina.
“Trouble?”
I crossed my eyes. “She wants me to check on her place before I go to the bar.” I switched focus to my sister. “I’ll be there in about an hour and a half. I got stranded downtown.”
“Okay, be careful. If someone did break in, I don’t want you hurt. Do you have anyone who can go with you?”
Right now? No. But I couldn’t tell her that.
Mario would get involved. And while I teased him a lot, I still had the brains to figure out he wasn’t the kind of man who liked complications.
He and my sister were perfect for each other that way.
Life was one big itinerary to plan out contingencies for with them. Me?
I was the contingency. “Sure thing. I’ll call you tomorrow. The bar is going to be packed and with the stop, I won’t have time. Did you need anything else?”
“No, that’s it. Love you.”
“Love you, too. Tell ‘It’s-a-me-Mario’ I send my best.”
Alfonzo’s eyebrow went up with the nickname. His face shifted as he tried and failed to keep his expression neutral and failed. “Wasted. Completely wasted,” he muttered.
I hoped not.