37. Dominic
37
Dominic
T he afternoon sun slants through my office windows, turning the Manhattan skyline golden. I should be celebrating. The deal is closed. One point five billion secured. My resort vision officially underway.
Instead I stare at my phone, unable to shake the feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach, my thumb hovering over Nico’s name in my contacts. My pulse quickens with a sick anticipation. One call. One fucking call I don’t want to make. I keep telling myself I’m going to tell him to fuck off. And that he can forget about ever meeting Tatiana, let alone extorting any cash from me.
But I know I won’t be able to do it.
I won’t be able to tell him jack shit.
I won’t be able to say no.
Because of our history.
So I don’t make the call.
Fuck fuck fuck.
Coward.
My phone vibrates before I can decide, Nico’s name flashing across the screen like an accusation.
“So big brother,” Nico says, his tone deceptively light. “I hear congratulations are in order. The deal closed.”
News travels fast. “It did.”
“When do I get to meet your wife? I’m free tonight.”
I close my eyes, the pounding in my temples intensifying. “I was about to call you about that.”
And cancel it. And tell you to fuck off.
“Were you? Or were you hoping I’d forget?” The hint of a threat lurks beneath his words.
I swallow, then sigh. It’s like my soul is draining out of me with every word. “I said I would arrange it, Nico. I keep my promises.” Unlike that night, long ago. When I hid, while he...
“Tonight then,” he says. “Dinner. Somewhere nice.”
My jaw clenches. “Fine. Eight o’clock. Eleven Madison Park. I’ll make the reservation.”
“Looking forward to it.” The satisfaction in his voice makes my stomach turn. “Dom?”
“What?”
“Don’t tell her why we’re meeting. I want to see her genuine reaction to me.”
I close my eyes. The request hangs between us, heavy with implication. My brother wants to blindside Tatiana.
You sick fuck, I’ll tear out your throat. I’ll—
But I don’t say a word. Because I’m a goddamn coward. Just like that night.
“I’ll see you at eight,” I say, ending the call.
I stare at my phone for a long moment. Longer than I ever have in my life, if feels like.
Finally, I press Tatiana’s number.
She answers on the third ring.
“Hey,” she says, her voice softer than usual. Last night lingers between us, unacknowledged but present. This morning, too.
“Hi.” I clear my throat. “There’s a business dinner tonight. Important for the resort project. I need you there.”
“Oh.” A pause. “I thought we’d be done with all that now that the deal closed.”
“One last obligation. Eight o’clock at Eleven Madison Park.”
“Okay,” she says after a moment. “Should I come to the penthouse first or meet you there?”
“Penthouse,” I blurt out. I want to see her one last time. Be with her one last time.
“Dom,” she starts, “about—”
My other line beeps. Jake Thompson. “I need to take this call. Business. I’ll see you later.”
I switch lines before she can respond, hating myself a little more.
“Thompson,” I answer.
“Got him, Boss.” Jake’s voice is clipped, professional. “Solid proof. Emails, offshore account transfers. Weiss orchestrated the supplier sabotage and spread those rumors about financial instability.”
My focus sharpens instantly. “You’re certain?”
“Beyond doubt. And we’ve got recordings of him feeding damaging information to two investors. They wore wires.”
“Motive?”
“Working for Blackwell Senior. Apparently the old man’s still pissed about Christopher kicking him off the board of his own company, and wants to lash out at anyone in his son’s orbit, best friends included. He’s backed a competing resort in Costa Rica that would have made a killing when your deal failed.”
Christopher’s father. Fucking figures. “And now?”
“His play is shot. He’ll be toxic in this town once word gets out.”
A cold satisfaction slides through me. This is something I can fix. A threat I can eliminate.
“Leak the evidence,” I order. “Anonymously. Wall Street Journal and that finance blogger Blackwell Senior hates.”
“Done.”
“And have Arthur draft the most aggressive cease and desist imaginable. Industrial espionage charges. Bury Weiss.”
“Already in progress.”
I pause, a new thought occurring. “What about Nico? Any connection?”
“No,” Jake replies. “After his lunch with Weiss, it appears Nico hasn’t had any further contact.”
“Good,” I tell him. “And thanks again, Jake.”
“That’s what you pay me the big bucks for, boss.” He disconnects.
I stand at my window, watching the city below. From up here, everything looks small. Manageable. But my guilt feels crushing.
The irony isn’t lost on me. Business threats I handle with surgical precision. One phone call and Morgan Weiss is finished. But when it comes to protecting Tatiana? I’m worse than useless. I’m the fucking threat. The same coward who froze when Nico needed me, now actively betraying the woman who somehow slipped past every defense I built.
All because I can’t stand up to my brother.
Can’t face my own guilt.
What the fuck am I doing?
Some debts can never be repaid. That’s what I tell myself. The scars on Nico’s face are permanent reminders of my failure. My cowardice. If giving him a shot with Tatiana helps balance the scales, isn’t that worth it?
But even as I think it, I know it’s bullshit. This isn’t about Nico. It’s about my guilt. My fear.
I glance at my watch. Five hours until dinner. Five hours to decide what kind of man I am.
I pick up the phone to cancel the dinner. Then put it down again.
I’m still that same scared kid. Still a fucking coward.
The deal is closed. My professional triumph secure. But as I sit in my corner office overlooking the city I’ve conquered, I’ve never felt smaller and more defeated.