4. Alex
“Shit. Shit!” Alex shrieks, clopping from one wall of her office to the other. It’s barely twenty steps round trip, but it feels like a marathon.
She spent all of her courage on Antonio Moretti, so all she has left is her anxiety. Actually, that’s wrong, she also has a boatload of questions.
What has he gotten me into?
Meanwhile, Ben looks like he’s recovering from a sprint. “I’m sorry. I… My eyes went straight back here, and I—”
“No, don’t do that. It’s not your fault at all. It’s fucking Ivan’s.” The room spins after Alex stops moving, so she closes her eyes and governs her breathing.
“Well, look, maybe you’re getting ahead of yourself. M-Maybe everything’ll work out.”
“I don’t see how. I panicked and made it worse.” Her adrenaline kicked in and she couldn’t shut up. “If Charlie shows up to that club, what do you think is gonna happen?”
“I know what I hope will happen.”
“Ben,” Alex groans and sinks to the floor, leaning her back against her desk and clawing at her knees.
“Hey, beautiful? Breathe.” He sits in front of her, folding his legs pretzel style and grabbing her hands. There’s a red, raised scratch on the back of one of his, which Alex assumes is courtesy of his cat, Rupie. “What’s the worst-case scenario, here?”
“I don’t know. But the man mentally photocopied my ID.”
“Maybe you should’ve sent him directly to Komarov instead?”
Alex shakes her head. Snitching would make things even worse.
“What other options do you have?! I know you’re scared—”
“It’s not about being scared. It’s about not being stupid! More stupid.” She lets out a barbed laugh. How fitting her back is against something like a wall.
“Okay… Let’s brainstorm. Moretti’s a businessman,” Ben says, rubbing his thumbs across her knuckles.
“What he is is shady as fuck. I don’t know exactly what he’s into, but if Ivan was interested, it’s not legal.”
Ben nods. “Sure, but my point is that we can appeal to the analytical side. The side that thinks about ventures and assets and whatever the hell else a businessman does. Make him an offer he can’t refuse.”
Alex gives her friend a dry look and slowly pulls her hands back so she can tuck her stomach into her leggings. “I need to go home, and—”
“Pack. Yes. You’re coming to my place.”
“Didn’t you have plans to go see Mama B today? And I thought you said Tuesdays were the best day for tips?” she asks, referring to Ben’s side hustle as a delivery driver.
“Why the hell are you worrying about that right now?”
A tenseness vacuums the air from the room before Alex collapses into Ben’s chest. “I am scared,” she admits. “If he found me, then…”
“I know. Let’s get out of here.”
Ben rubs her back, giving Alex space to salvage her sanity. He’s been her compass for over ten years. The kindling to her fire when she needs encouragement, or the bucket of water when she gets too fierce. As much as she tells herself to do otherwise, she often dwells on her choice not to listen to him back when it really counted.
Before Ben and Alex leave Tech Me Out, they agree on two things. He will visit his mother Beatriz, who is at a rehab center recovering from a broken hip, and Alex will literally be ready to hop in his car by the time he arrives at her condo. That gives her about three hours to get herself together.
About a third of the way in, she stands in the middle of her bedroom, pulling out clothes from drawers and tossing them everywhere. Of course, they’re supposed to land in one of the suitcases strewn on the carpet, but it’s difficult for Alex to aim when a wheel of introspection traps her.
Is there something she could have done to avoid all this?
She picks up a pajama lounge set. It’s one of the soft ones that glide under her fluffy queen-size comforter. She should be taking a shower so she can slip it on. Instead, she’s tossing it onto a pile of other clothes.
Alex collects a pair of jeans next, curving her finger through a belt loop. Then the bell rings. It’s a long and steady note, like someone’s holding their finger on the button.
There’s no way. There’s no way, right?
There’s a knock, next. She tiptoes to the door, and there’s another. Through a thin crevice, Alex can make out a hat-less Nik, and a fury invigorates her to fling the door the rest of the way and pull him inside. She makes a note to speak with the building manager about installing peepholes. “You have got to be kidding me! Again?!”
Nik scoffs. “Are you kidding me? What the hell is going on with you?”
“I…it’s complicated.”
“What is?”
Alex slumps on the couch and reluctantly shares the details of her morning. “So…my nerves are just a little shot after having him come to the store. And I’m just gonna go stay with Ben for a few days.”
“Okay…” Nik, still standing, rubs his chin. “But we should tell Komarov.”
“I don’t want to give him anything close to an excuse to add on another year or ten of service.”
“This isn’t just about you.”
“But I’m the one he found. And if Ivan, or you, for that matter, get involved…” Alex scrapes a nail against her earlobe. “I don’t want things to get out of control.”
“Out of control?” Nik folds his arms. “When are you gonna get a grip on how our world works? You’d think after the last guy you let mess with your head you’d be a little less naive. I mean, are you even thinking?”
Alex’s toes comb through the twisted carpet fabric. It’s not that she’s not thinking. She spends half of every day just thinking. It’s because Alex thinks so much that she ends up going numb. Otherwise, the cognitive dissonance from the person she wants to be and who she actually is would break her.
Nik finally sits, and rests his hand, cold and stiff, at the nape of her neck. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I-I shouldn’t have… I just want you to use your head a little more. That’s all I’m trying to say.”
“Yeah…I hear you,” Alex states, her voice steady. “Give me twenty-four hours, okay? After that, you can do what you want.”
He lobs her a taut look, then sighs. “Fine. I’m taking you to Ben’s, though.”
“Not necessary,” Alex says while heading to her front door. “You’d just be a huge distraction and I’m trying to finish packing.”
“But I—”
“I don’t want your help right now, Nik.”
Nik falters out to the hallway. “Okay. But you’ll call me if you do?”
“Yes. Bye,” she says quickly before shutting him out.
There’s another reason Alex needed him to leave; she can’t hold back her tears. All her frustration, her weariness, anger, and sorrow pour from her eyes until a dark, wet circle discolors her left couch cushion. If the threads could talk, they’d probably tell her to get a grip, though the headache knocking on her temples makes it tough.
There’s plenty of time before Ben arrives, so Alex tucks her feet under a throw pillow and bundles herself into a blanket.
Maybe two minutes pass before her bell rings. An abrupt tone, this time. It’s probably a neighbor, or maybe Nik returning to change her mind. It could also be maintenance and they came to the wrong place. Either way, the only person Alex is expecting is Ben, who has a key, so she ignores the sound.
Then a knock comes, same as earlier, which tells her exactly who’s behind it. She mutters a few curses and stomps to the door while massaging her puffy cheeks.
“What part of I don’t want you here was vague? Because I’ll gladly clear it up, Nik,” Alex grumbles, hurling open the door.
“It’s not Nik.”
Alex’s legs buckle and she stumbles backward. It’s not Nik. It’s Antonio Moretti.
He grabs her sweater and wrist, keeping her upright and setting off an atom bomb of sensation. It’s scary, but powerful; he supports all of her weight like it’s nothing.
“Were you crying?” Antonio asks, still holding on.
Alex quickly yanks away and wipes her face. “How did you get past security?”
His smile is lazy and ever so charming. “Ms. Harriet, two floors down. Sweet lady. She was walking up the same time as me—bananas sticking out everywhere. They didn’t even double bag her ginger ale, can you believe it? Anyway, far as anybody knows, I’m just a friendly resident who helped a lady with her groceries. Since I came all the way, you gonna let me in?”
“I’m going to wish you safe travels on your hike back wherever the hell you came from.” Alex clutches the side of the door, and Antonio immediately places his hand above hers, his thumb resting on her pinky.
Ugh.
Antonio’s aura still has that element of tempting cockiness from earlier and a sneaky playfulness as if her frustration amuses him. It doesn’t help that he’s as suave on the outside.
An all-black ensemble should be boring, but on him, it’s…sexy. A peek of gleaming gold on his neck accessorizes the look, and it’s flawlessly finished with two piercing gray-blues unlike anything Alex has ever seen. Every time one of the striking irises catches her, she feels like it’s transporting her into the eye of a storm—a beautifully dangerous storm.
He’s still that guy with the damn gun, Alexandra.
Still, she doesn’t see him leaving so easily, so she says, “Take your shoes off.” Alex turns and feels her locs whip against something (most likely Antonio’s arm, perhaps even his face) but she only feels somewhat apologetic.
“You draw the line at dirty shoes in the house, huh?” he asks, doing as instructed. He removes his coat as well and eventually joins a pouting Alex on the couch.
“Why are you here?”
He cracks his knuckles, then leans back all casual-like, as if they’re friends. “Because my instincts tell me something’s not right. So, I’m gonna keep you company here, and I have a friend back at the club ready to meet Charlie. But…you could make all our problems go away and just tell me the truth about why you’ve been giving me the runaround.”
Alex sighs as her insides knot and she considers how truthful she can be without jeopardizing her safety. “It really wasn’t about you. It was about some councilman. You were just a means to an end,” she reveals.
“You know that much and you still want me to believe you’re some intermediary? I’m not gonna judge you if you’re boning this Charlie guy.”
“Oh my gosh, what is wrong with you?! Why do you keep going there?!” The argument feels so frivolous that Alex walks off to her bedroom. She feels giant footsteps vibrate after her.
“Maybe because you’re not giving me anywhere else to go?!” Antonio trips over a suitcase. “And what the hell is all this? Alex, if you’re as uninvolved as you say, why does it look like you’re packing for a pretty long trip?”
“Hmm…maybe because of what you said and did this morning? You know, when you flashed your lil’ coat back to show me your gun?”
“It’s just for show.”
She crosses her arms. “So it’s empty?”
“I didn’t say that. But I hardly ever carry it, and I’ve used it even less.”
“Which is irrelevant because you currently have a loaded gun with you in my fucking home, Antonio! Is that shit lost on you?” Alex’s head snaps away from him in frustration, and her heart drops as she spots a bra on her TV stand. She snatches it and hurries to hide it between the pillow and the headboard. At least it was a cute pink and lacy one.
Antonio winds his neck. “It’s not, Alex. But if you were just gonna run anyway, why all the theatrics? Why not just tell me where Charlie is and then go?” An air pocket floats a portion of the comforter as he plops onto her bed.
If she weren’t preoccupied with plenty of other thoughts, that would probably bother her. She twists the diamond stud on her left ear. “It’s too much to explain.”
“Try me.”
“Antonio, I can’t,” she utters breathlessly. “I don’t—”
“You get one last chance, Alex.”
His eerie calm causes her thighs to smack against the nightstand. “Please just—”
“ENOUGH!” Antonio roars, and in an instant, his fist connects with the wall, and his face looms mere inches above hers, his eyes void of any charm or warmth. “Enough,” he says again, this time low, but somehow more menacing. He removes his gun from his holster, instantly conveying how serious things have become.
“J-James. Please,” Alex whispers inadvertently as her body immobilizes.
Oh my God. Please don’t ask, please don’t ask, please don’t ask.
The present and past have muddled so many times in the last twenty-four hours. A tear drips from her bottom lash, and Antonio jerks back, almost as if it stings him.
He sets his gun on the nightstand. “Sheesh, Alex, just tell me where I can find Charlie, and I’m gone.”
She takes in a shuddering breath. “I don’t have to.”
“Why are you making this so diffi—”
“I don’t have to, because you’ve already met Charlie.” Alex blinks her blurry vision away and risks a move, slinking through the fairly narrow space between them to sit on her bed. Her legs were seconds away from giving out on her. She avoids Antonio’s direct line of sight, but she can still see his jaw drop gradually.
“Are you…saying what I think you’re saying?” His head swivels her way, and his dumb, confused look shines some levity on an otherwise bleak situation. “You’re Charlie? You?”
“Yes?”
“Un-goddamn-believable.” Antonio passes a hand through his hair.
“Why?”
“Because that means I’ve just wasted hours. All because I…”
“Assumed Charlie was a man?” Alex fans at a layer of icy sweat.
He huffs and sits next to her, leaning on his palms. “I assumed he’d look the part a little more. I mean, aside from the glasses, you don’t look anything like a…”
She angles her neck as Antonio gives her a slow-moving once-over. “A what?”
“A nerd.”
“Nerd? Explain.”
“Explain what?” There’s that look again.
Alex blinks. “Explain what you meant by that.”
“I’m not following.”
“Shocking. What does a nerd look like, Antonio?”
He clicks his tongue. “Oh, I see, now. You’re baiting me.”
“You baited yourself. It’s the twenty-first century. Women can vote and wear pants now, you know. I even have my own bank account.”
“Congratulations. Only thing I’m interested in is the truth.”
What a damn jerk. Alex rubs her nose. “It’s not that simple. If I talk to you…I could get killed. But you could kill me regardless, so really, I’m just kicking myself for being slow enough to have to make this choice at all.”
“I’d say the better choice is the one that keeps you alive right now,” Antonio says, looking in the direction of the wall’s new indentation, like he has regrets for putting it there. “What the hell’s got you so scared that a literal gun doesn’t faze you?”
“Not what,” Alex whispers, visualizing Ivan’s face. Those eyes are blue too, but unlike Antonio’s, they’re icy and devious. Also unlike Antonio, Ivan wouldn’t be bothered to ask questions for this long. Her instincts say just maybe, with even that much of a difference, telling Antonio Moretti the truth could be the better choice. Alex curls her fingernails into her palm and stands. “…Ivan…”
“Komarov? What about him?”
“He owns me.”
The mattress squeaks as Antonio shifts his body to face her. “What does that mean? How did you even manage to get on his radar?”
“You’re one to talk, Mr. Businessman.” Alex stands rigidly against the door frame connecting her bathroom and bedroom. “Then again, I saw exactly what put you there. Thirty dollars for a drink? There’s no way people are signing up for that.”
“People want to have a good time, and I know how to give that to ‘em. But we’re getting off topic. I wanna know exactly what it is you do for Komarov. And why?”
“I own a store full of computers, Antonio. Is it really that hard to believe I know my way around one?”
“So what? You’re a hacker or something?”
Alex nods. “And I do whatever Ivan asks me to do. I don’t have a choice. But like I said…that job really wasn’t about you. Ivan has been trying to get Wendell Simon to be his friend since he got elected. But the man hasn’t budged. Apparently, Ivan got word that one of the charities Wendell founded has some shady shit going on beyond the surface. He asked me to look into it. And looking into it led to you.” And it was like four in the morning, so I was exhausted, which made me sloppy, and now we’re here.
“So, you don’t actually have proof of anything?”
“Ivan doesn’t need proof. Just a seed.”
Antonio kneads his chin, a motion that reminds Alex of that famous statue. “What’s he plan on doing with this seed?”
“You’d have to ask him that. The only reason I know that much is because of what someone else told me. I don’t sit at his round table.”
Antonio smirks. “I guess I believe that. Then again, I don’t think Komarov’s the kind of guy to have one at all. And does he…know you as Alex? Or Charlie?”
“Both. Elsewhere I try to keep that part of my life separate, for obvious reasons. But I didn’t want anything flashy, like I was a superhero or something. So, I kept it simple.”
“And picked a name from a hat?”
“No.” Alex crosses her legs at the ankle. “Charlie is my birth name.”
“Meaning…? Oh.”
Oh, no.
Antonio’s discomfort makes her uncomfortable, and she has an impulse to purge her thoughts.
Cue word vomit.
“Alex is the name my adoptive parents gave me so I could have a fresh start. But it’s wild, for sixteen years, Alex was all I knew, and then one day…I’m Charlie. For a while, there was this weird internal battle. Should I go by Alex Agneau, or Charlie Fox? It’s an easy choice now, ‘cuz honestly, meeting Charlie is how all this started in the first place.”
“Hold up—Charlie Fox?”
Alex watches Antonio’s ears twitch as his gaze seems to move past her, the walls, and all the way next door. “Yeah? Why the reaction?”
“I don’t know. It…sounds familiar.”
“Well, definitely more common than Agneau.”
“Y-Yeah.” He shakes his head. “When you say ‘how all this started’, do you mean working with Komarov?”
“I don’t work with him. Nobody works with him. But yes. Like I said, I owe him. So, he owns me.”
“You owe him money?”
Alex nods.
“Well, doesn’t that mean you can just pay him back?”
She gasps. “What? Oh my God, you genius. Let me get my checkbook.”
“Do you always have to be so sarcastic?”
“Uh, for questions like that? Yeah.”
“Alex…” Antonio looks right at her, and they end up in an impromptu staring contest.
Alex loses pretty quickly and tries to dampen her grin as she returns to the bed. “I hate the way you say my name.”
“Why?”
“Because. I just do.”
“Sounds like a ‘you’ problem.”
She can’t tell if he’s serious or not, but his face says he is.
“What if I told you I had a solution to your Komarov one?”
“Then I’d say you were full of shit. Ivan and I have very specific terms of agreement. Terms that no one could get me out of.”
“I could.”
“Antonio…please don’t. I get you’re a businessman, but…” Alex’s brain struggles to accept his unfounded confidence, and her emotions start to overwhelm her. “I…owe him ten million dollars. I’ve been paying him back slowly but surely, and I don’t want to screw myself by trying to cheat my way out of this. I’ve made…choices. I have to live with them.”
He looks regretful, then offended. “Who said anything about cheating?”Antonio pulls Alex into his intimidating storm, leaning over and digging a knee beside her hip. “I don’t think you ended up here on your own.”
His sincerity startles her, but she’s still wary. “So you feel sorry for me? I don’t buy it.”
“I have my own history with Komarov, and I’m going to have to deal with him regardless. If someone like him finds you capable, that says a lot. I’d much rather have you on my side.”
“On your side how?”
“By not being on his.”
“You do hear how questionable that sounds, don’t you?”
Antonio sucks his teeth. “Aw, fuck, Alex. What do you want me to say? I know the kind of guy Komarov is, and I’m telling you I can solve both our problems. Why are you willing to gamble when I’m offering you an easy win?”
“Oh, because choosing between the frying pan or the freezer should be such an easy choice?!”
“I’d say I’m more like a fridge with a loose door.”
Alex bows her head at his silly but valid adaptation. “Let’s say I agree to this. What exactly is it that you plan to do?”
Antonio stands, swipes his gun from the side table and tucks it in the holster, then dips a hand inside his pants pocket. He opens his wallet and pulls out a tiny, black rectangle, but Alex’s laugh stops him. “What?”
“I don’t really need—never mind.”
He rolls his eyes. “Of course, you don’t, Alex. Take it anyway.” Antonio sets the card on the bed. “Call me tomorrow after you’ve slept on things. I’ll have a plan for you then.”
Even without hearing something concrete, Alex can’t help but succumb to a delirium of hope. Briefly. She follows Antonio to the door, double checking every lock is on after he leaves.
Her heart pounds out of her chest as she thinks about what to tell Ben.