CHAPTER FIFTEEN
J ULIAN
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T HE BUDGET REPORTS were now a lost cause. Numbers and contracts had been replaced by one name spinning in my mind on a constant loop: Stefanie Adams. I couldn’t wait for her to miss me. I had to give her a nudge.
I also had to show the bastard at her job that she was taken. I dragged my laptop closer, opened a browser, and typed “best flower shops near me.” A dozen listings popped up. I picked the first one with solid reviews and clicked on it.
An image of a black woman appeared on the screen. She was wearing a floral apron and gloves and was standing in the middle of a garden. She looked familiar. I grabbed my phone and scrolled through some of Stefanie’s posts online and found a picture of her and this woman.
The caption read: Flowers grown with love smell sweeter. This is my favorite florist, and her store has flowers for every occasion.
Exiting out of her profile, I dialed the number listed for the floral shop.
A cheery voice came across the line. “Good morning, this is Blossom & Vine. How can I help you?”
“I want to place an order for delivery,” I said.
“Absolutely! What kind of flowers were you thinking of sending?”
“What kind do women typically like?” I asked, leaning back.
She laughed softly. “It depends on the message you want to send. Each flower conveys a different message. Roses are romantic and can represent desire. Lilies are elegant, while tulips can be playful. Different flowers mean different things. Are you trying to say I’m sorry , I love you , I miss you or ...?”
I sat up straighter, knowing the exact message I wanted to convey.
“What flower says, You’re mine, and no one else can have you ?”
Silence. Maybe that was a bit too intense.
I cleared my throat and forced a laugh. “Kidding. That’s a joke.”
A nervous chuckle followed. “Right... well if you're going for something deep like lasting love and admiration, peonies are a great option. They symbolize pure love.”
Peonies . I didn’t even know how a peony looked. I quickly typed it into my laptop. An image popped up. I smiled.
“I think she’ll love those,” I whispered, but the florist heard me.
“Perfect! They come in an array of colors. And would you like a dozen of them? Perhaps a cute vase for them to go in?”
“Um...” I’d never brought a woman flowers. I was out of my element. “I think she’d like pink. I’m on your website. You have a white vase with silver and pink designs on it. I think she’d like that. I’ll take a dozen of them. The flowers, not a dozen vases.”
“I know exactly what vase you’re talking about,” she chuckled. “Where would you like the flowers sent and who should they be addressed to?”
I told her the address of the new station and gave her Stefanie’s name.
“Ms. Adams. I know her. Are you one of her fans?”
Her fans? Were there more motherfuckers I’d need to kill because of her?
“I’m more than a fan.”
“Oh, okay. What would you like the card to say?”
“The card?”
“Yes. The floral arrangement comes with a little notecard. People add things like thinking of you, missing you, can’t wait to see you, and happy birthday. You know, things like that.”
Got it! “Put: I can’t stop thinking about you . ”
After rattling off my credit card details and confirming the delivery time, I ended the call. I leaned back in my chair, a satisfied grin tugging at my lips. This should let her know I haven’t given up.
And it should let the bitch who likes her know that there’s already a man in her life. A man who’d do anything to have her. But this wasn’t just about showing some work-husband-wannabe that she was off-limits.
It was about her . I wanted her to look at those flowers every morning and remember whose hands had once traced every inch of her body. I wanted her to smell them and feel the warmth of my breath on her neck.
I wanted those petals to whisper my name when she sat at her desk, when she wrapped her fingers around her coffee mug and when she took a moment to breathe in their floral scent. If I couldn’t be beside her yet, I could still be close, even if it was just in the form of a gift.
This was just the beginning of me wooing Stefanie Adams. I planned to do everything I could so that she wouldn’t forget me. I refused to let her leave me behind as a distant memory. And I sure as hell wasn’t letting some co-worker fill the space where I should be.
I typed the name of her weather station into my laptop, ready to pull up a full list of their employees. I’d just hit search when a knock sounded on my office door. Who the hell was it, and what did they want?
“Come in if it’s important,” I called out.
The door swung open, and Marshall, one of my team leaders, stepped in, clad in jeans and a white T-shirt, his bald head glistening with sweat.
"Hey, boss," he greeted.
I leaned back, eyeing him. "Marshall, shouldn't you be at the Bak Industries site, pouring concrete with the team?"
He rubbed his head. "Yeah, but I paused the job and rushed back here to talk with you about what we found."
I frowned. "It must be something you couldn't tell me over the phone."
Marshall nodded, his expression serious. "We're pouring a concrete slab for that new boutique hotel they're building along the strip. But we've run into a problem. They'd already put a layer of gravel down for us to pour the concrete over. But it wasn't even. So we started evening it out, and we found bodies wrapped in tarp, duct-taped tight like they were packed for disposal. I opened one to verify. It’s definitely a body."
"What?" I sat up, tension coiling in my gut.
"Yeah. Bodies. Boss, I think they hired us to cover up their crimes."
I exhaled sharply. "And those fuckers didn't even pay extra or sign an NDA."
"Right. I checked to see if that had been noted on our forms. There was nothing that indicated this was supposed to be a cover-up job. This was supposed to be a legit job. The crew I have with me don't work the cover-up jobs. They're freaking out over this."
"Is there anyone on your team who's going to be a problem?"
"Nah. Everyone is loyal to Cattaneo Concrete Solutions and the organization. They just prefer to work the clean jobs. This is their first brush with something this serious. And they know cover-ups follow a different protocol."
Yes, a protocol that helped us protect our asses and assets if anyone ever found out about the cover-up. The company that hired us would accept full blame if a criminal investigation was launched.
And we’d keep records of the site, the owner, and a detailed description of the job to provide to our consigliere so he could handle things on the legal end if needed. If Marshall hadn’t caught this, we could’ve ended up with a legal nightmare down the road.
"Fuck!" I slammed my fist on the desk, the sound echoing in the office.
Marshall remained silent, waiting for me to tell him how to handle this. I ran a hand through my hair. I didn’t have time for this shit today.
"We’ve been working with Bak Industries for years. Both legit and cover-up jobs,” Marshall said. “We’ve never had them pull something like this on us. They know that this isn't how we operate. If they want to involve us in their mess, there are protocols."
“Who put in the order?” I asked, grabbing my phone and scrolling through my contacts. “It better not be Aiden Park.”
He definitely knew this wasn’t how we handled shit. And I’d just talked to Aiden a week ago. He would’ve given me a heads-up if this type of job was needed.
“Louis Fields put in the order,” Marshall informed me.
Figures. Louis was a shifty little man with beady eyes, a short temper, and always sweating, even when it was cold out. He looked like the type who’d sell out his own mother if the price was right.
My gut told me neither Aiden nor his brothers knew about the bodies. Yeah, they were part of the same criminal world as my family. But they kept their chain of Korean-inspired hotels, Bak Luxury Resorts, away from the darker side of things.
And Aiden was over the hotels. If there had been a need for a cover-up, the order would’ve come straight from him. Not Louis. I scrolled until I found the Korean-American’s phone number in my phone. It was listed under Park-Bak Hotels.
I rose from my seat and told Marshall, “Follow me to the site. On your way there, call Louis and tell him to get his ass down to the site, or we’ll shut the entire job down. I’ll call Aiden and have him meet us there.
I pressed the call button and listened to the phone ring as I closed the windows on my laptop and shut it. Exiting my office, I was locking the door when Aiden answered.
"How may I help you, Mr. Cattaneo?" Aiden drawled.
"Meet me at the site of your future boutique hotel."
"Why? What's wrong?"
"I'll show you when you get there."
"I'll send my assistant. I'm busy with my wife right now."
I started to say fuck his assistant. But hearing that he was with his wife threw me off.
“Am I on speaker,” I asked.
“Of course, not.”
“Good. The last time we spoke, you told me you were getting a divorce.”
Hesitation followed before Aiden said, “That is no longer the case.”
"Is she blackmailing you to stay with her?" She was the type to do that. I wish Stefanie would do that to me.
"Not at all," Aiden replied, keeping his responses short.
Weird . "Say 'cranberry' if you're being held against your will."
A chuckle came across the line. "You're funny, Julian. I'm taking my wife out to breakfast. Do you really need me to stop by the site, or can it wait?"
"No. I need you there now," I said, walking toward my car.
"I'll make a U-turn at the light. Be there in about ten minutes. Twenty if traffic is crazy on the strip."
"No problem. I'll wait. I would say tell your wife I said hello. But she hates me. So..."
"She doesn't hate you."
"The last time she saw us having a drink in the casino, she told me I was the reason you stayed gone most nights. She said I was a playboy who kept bringing you around women, which was the reason you were cheating on her."
"Let's not mention that again, Mr. Cattaneo," Aiden drawled, sounding strained.
Yeah, he was definitely acting strange. "See you in ten."
I ended the call and unlocked my car door. Sliding into the driver's seat, I started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, my mind racing with the implications of what Marshall had uncovered.
The discovery of bodies at the construction site wasn't just a hiccup on Louis’s end. It was a potential catastrophe. If word got out, it could bring unwanted attention to both our operations and Bak Industries.
But that was exactly why Louis had chosen us to handle this job instead of our competitors. He knew my team wouldn’t go running their mouths, and if they did, the Cattaneo family would take care of it.
He was using us to handle his dirty work. I was sure of it. I couldn’t let my crew handle this. I had to take care of it and ensure those responsible were held accountable because fuck ups like this couldn’t be overlooked or taken lightly.
They damn sure couldn’t be ignored. Someone had to pay. That was the unspoken rule in this game. Arriving at the construction site, I parked and stepped out, the morning sun beating down on the gravel lot.
Marshall was already there, talking to a few of the crew members, their faces etched with concern. I approached them, nodding to Marshall.
"Louis on his way?" I asked.
Marshall nodded. "Should be here any minute."
"Good. Aiden's coming, too. We're going to get to the bottom of this. Show me the bodies."
“This way, boss.”
Marshall led me to the section where the slab was to be poured. The gravel had been cleared back just enough to reveal dark, bundled shapes beneath dirty tarps.
“Give me some gloves,” I told him, getting more pissed off by the second.
As I slid the gloves on, I climbed down into the pit. The gravel shifted beneath my shoes, crunching with each step as I moved toward the nearest tarp, the edges already disturbed from when Marshall’s crew had uncovered it.
I crouched down and peeled the plastic back. The smell hit me first. Rot. Death. I coughed, one hand flying up to cover my nose and mouth as I stumbled back a step. The woman’s body beneath the tarp was decomposing. She’d been dead for weeks. Maybe longer.
“Louis is approaching, boss,” Marshall called to me.
I nodded, still staring down at the decaying woman. Were they all women? I moved to the next tarp. Holding my breath, I untaped it and pulled it back a bit. Yup . Another woman. What was Louis trying to cover up here?
“What the hell’s going on here?” Louis barked. “Why was I called down here? And why isn’t the slab poured yet? We paid for a job to be done, and we expect it to be done in a timely fucking manner.”
He came into view, storming over like he ran shit until he saw me standing there. He stopped short, eyes widening.
“Uh, Mr. C-cattaneo,” he stammered. “I-I didn’t see you there.”
His eyes flicked from me to the disturbed gravel and the half-covered corpse. The color drained from his face.
“I-I can explain,” he stuttered, sweat instantly dotting his forehead.
I didn’t say a word. Just lifted my hand and crooked a finger, motioning him forward. He took a step back instead. Marshall, who was standing just behind him, shoved him hard between the shoulder blades.
“You’re going in the wrong direction,” Marshall snapped.
Louis stumbled forward, nearly tripping over his own feet. I walked toward him, my gaze fixed on his beady eyes that now darted around like he was searching for an escape route. There was no escaping this. When I reached him, I grabbed his collar and yanked him forward, dragging him toward the pit.
“No, wait, Julian, I can explain...” he whimpered, struggling against my grip.
“Look at her,” I growled.
I shoved him to his knees and gripped the back of his head, forcing his face within inches of the corpse. So close, he could probably taste the decay in the air. So close, that if the woman were alive, she’d feel his breath against her cheek. She’d probably felt that before she died.
I hated that I was forcing her to endure his presence again. I hated that I was going to bury this motherfucker at the same place she’d be buried. She didn’t deserve that. But at least she’d bear witness to the death of her murderer because Louis wasn’t leaving the site alive.
He wasn’t leaving the site at all.