Chapter Eleven
Cross closed the file in front of him and stretched in his chair. It was already starting to feel like this week would never end and it was only Wednesday. Satisfied that everything was in order for the impending board meeting, he got to his feet, wanting to clear his head and check the upper lounge one last time before the evening really got underway.
Board meetings were a rarity and normally a formality. The various Eighth Circle clubs ran like clockwork so there was little that needed to be discussed. This meeting was different. His club was under scrutiny and he loathed being expected to explain himself.
However, there had been an incident.
What should have been a simple exchange of goods for cash had turned into a fiasco, resulting in the loss of a significant quantity of diamonds and sadly, several lives. The location of the exchange had been left to his team to organise and both parties involved had been sent the coordinates less than an hour before the scheduled hand off. No one else had been involved. No one could have known the time and place.
But someone had known.
That there had been a breach was not up for debate, but the full apportioning of blame had yet to occur. And whilst his investigations, so far, left him absolutely certain the guilty party did not reside within his ranks, convincing the other partners was proving harder than he’d like.
Hence the need for the impromptu board meeting this evening, and his foul temper.
He’d already decided that if he had to suffer through this unpleasantness, then someone else would need to suffer too. And tonight that someone would be Verity. As he stepped out into the upper lounge his eyes found her immediately and was further irritated to notice that very little in way of suffering appeared to be taking place. Indeed, surrounded by the guests she looked to be in her element, casually stealing a sip of whiskey from one individual with a cheeky grin.
As he watched the man’s hand slide up her thigh, his sour mood deteriorated further. She was the one piece of the puzzle that was refusing to slot into her designated place and he was running out of time and patience to make that happen. It has been a mistake to take her off the rota on Saturday, he should have kept the pressure up, but there had been a delicate negotiation taking place and he couldn’t afford a loose cannon on the premises. Plus, he’d hoped having twenty four hours to stew on her situation might have made her more amenable.
It hadn’t.
For the last three days she had simply repeated the pattern set last week. In public, she’d played the role of hostess with an unexpected amount of poise. Privately she’d continued the same, blatantly exaggerated performance to avoid revealing any genuine response. He might have pretended to neither notice nor care but inside he was seething.
He’d rescinded the ‘hands off’ policy as soon as she returned to work on Sunday, but even without the protection of the ‘Property of Mr Cross’ label she had somehow managed to safely navigate the dangerous waters of his club and avoid being caught in the violent undertow that permanently swirled through the upper floors.
How was she doing that?
Was it simply the fact that she had ten years on the other girls working the club that made a difference to the attention she attracted? He dismissed that suggestion immediately. He’d seen the hungry gazes that lingered on her figure and followed the soft sway of her hips as she circulated the room. That decade of extra experience didn’t make her any less attractive to the members, but perhaps it did give her the experience on how to manage them? Uncowed and unfazed, she not only joined in with the bawdy banter and revelry but was able to control and direct it.
His eyes narrowed as he watched her work, perched on the arm of a chair, simultaneously flirting and teasing with the men on both sides. One moment leaning forward to whisper in the ear of the first, a playful hand on his chest, then immediately turning back to run her fingers through the slightly shaggy hair of the man behind her, gracing him with a heartstopping smile.
That was the strength of her game, he realised. She didn’t let herself get cornered, she played them off against each other relying on her natural instincts and confidence to extricate herself from any potentially dangerous situation before flirtation became confrontation.
Finally, he felt a genuine smile spread across his face. That kind of game could get very dangerous in here and tonight she might see a different side of the club. There were a couple of local crews in this evening who had been collaborating relatively peacefully for over a year, but who also retained a certain level of natural competition between their various members. That driving need to display dominance would challenge even her equilibrium. And he would very much enjoy seeing her lose that infuriating composure.
She’d be expecting her money this evening and it was about time she did something to earn it.
The silent haptic alarm tapped his wrist and with a sigh he returned to his office, checking one last time that all his notes were in order before activating the video screens embedded into the wall facing his desk. Within seconds a dozen different faces filled the monitors. The board was nothing if not punctual. Cross took a breath, settled his features into an approximation of a smile and braced himself for the conversation ahead.
***
Half an hour later the call was still in progress and Cross was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain his composure under the crossfire of questioning.
“And you examined the phones used?”
Cross shrugged. “We were able to check Frank’s phone and confirm no tampering. Sadly Giancarlo claims to have tossed his in the Thames.”
“Claims?” The question came from Henderson, one of the Americans on the call, and a senior partner. Cross cursed himself silently for the unintended emphasis he’d placed on that word. Henderson never missed a trick and would worry away at any inconsistencies in his story.
And while his wording might have been a lapse, it did stem from very genuine concerns. His own doubts about Giancarlo started when the man had ‘lost’ the first club phone he’d been given, within hours of it being entrusted into his possession. Valentina had convinced him, at the time, that it wasn’t worth making a fuss over and he should simply wipe the first device and issue a new one. Hoping to get the deal completed and the wretched man away from his club as quickly as possible, he’d agreed.
He was now regretting that decision because it meant if he raised the subject now, he’d be subjected to questions as to why he had not reported the loss.
Forcing a smile, he kept his tone light, “I simply mean, we have to take his word for it.”
“We can’t verify?”
“Not without dragging the river, and by now it would have washed out to sea.”
“Did we try to geo-locate?”
Cross didn’t even bother to justify that with an answer. They all knew what the response would be from their members if they started electronically tagging the location of all their illicit deals. He didn’t understand why they were following this line of questioning in the first place. All the clubs used the same custom phones that could not be hacked or cloned. Once tied to a fingerprint they could only be accessed by that specified individual or the club owner.
“What do you want to do next?”
“I would like the board's permission to have a more fulsome conversation with Giancarlo.”
“Out of the question,” interrupted the owner from one of their Asian clubs. “The Vitalie family is one of the founding families. We cannot set that precedent..”
Cross clenched his jaw as his irritation rose. The snide tone set his teeth on edge. Hypocrite!
Careful not to let his frustration colour his voice, he argued his case. “His father was, of course, a well respected member of our community, but Giancarlo is less… reliable. The family may retain our respect but as an individual…” He left the rest of that sentence unsaid.
There was an uneasy pause, then the man shrugged. “Whatever your personal feelings are towards Giancarlo, club rules are in place to ensure a seamless transition when the head of a family or organisation is replaced.”
Momentarily losing his composure, Cross slammed a hand onto his desk. “And yet not one of you sent the standard invitation, welcoming him as a full member to your clubs!”
There was a moment’s silence in acknowledgement of that truth, then one of the senior partners gave a shrug. “No. But you did. And that invitation entitles him to the full protection of your establishment.”
Aware that he was in danger of breaking a tooth if his expression tightened any further, Cross released a breath and tried to regain his composure. What annoyed him most, was the man was right. He hadn’t wanted to extend that invitation. Giancarlo was erratic and unpredictable at the best of times. But Valentina had insisted. And what Valentina wanted, Valentina got. At least from him.
The woman in question let out a bored sigh and ran her fingers through her hair. “I don’t understand why we are assuming the fault is with Giancarlo? There were two parties involved.”
Cross could understand why she was pushing this line. As the owner of Eighth Circle Italia, Valentina had a vested interest in turning suspicion elsewhere. And to his unending frustration, she also had the means to ensure his silence. Aware of her glare burning into him through the screen, he held his tongue and waited for one of the others to state the obvious.
The silence that followed the question was brutal, everyone on the call wishing to avoid a direct confrontation with the volatile Italian member of their team. In the end it was left to the most senior man on the call to voice what the rest of them were thinking.
“It is highly unlikely that Frank would have sacrificed one of his own sons to fake the theft of something they had already purchased.”
“But there is no proof!”
Sensing the opening he’d been waiting for, Cross leaned back in his chair. “That is true, which is why I propose we find some before taking the next step.”
Unable to counter that suggestion directly, the older woman lapsed into seething silence, her blistering gaze informing him he’d pay for that move. He was going to have to step very carefully through this minefield if he hoped to escape unscathed.
“You have the means to do that?”
Cross released the breath he was holding, finally things were starting to shift in the direction he wanted.
“I believe I do.”