7. Antonio
As they enter Ivan Komarov’s office, Antonio’s eyes lock onto the lone armed sentry, who smiles briefly at Alex before resuming his position as a poker-faced warrior. Apparently, a lot of people here like Alex.
Below him, Komarov’s salt and pepper hair swoops away from his face, aside from one lock swinging in the middle of his eyes. His suit looks like he’s ready to walk on some red carpet, although perhaps he tries to tone it down by going tieless.
The only thing that surprises Antonio is what appears as a rush-job spray-tan. Komarov’s hands have a couple of patches of pale skin, though his nails are almost as shiny as his diamond cufflinks.
Meanwhile, everything around them is brown. The walls. The bookcase. The desk, blinds, lamps, and the chairs, in which Antonio tries to gesture for Alex to sit. But she merely grips the back until Komarov raises his head, donning an ominously pleasant smile.
“Ms. Agneau. Tell me, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Mr. Komarov,” Antonio responds. “Let’s offer each other a little more respect than that, shall we? Your little tech merc got caught sticking her nose where it didn’t belong. I want it to be the last time that happens.”
Komarov’s eyes dart between Alex and Antonio. “Well, Mr. Moretti, those of us who make friends in such high places should also be prepared for whatever comes with it, don’t you think?”
Antonio’s pinky twitches with the urge to respond non-verbally. He only bumps elbows with Komarov at the occasional high-profile event, but the man always speaks to him the same as when they first met, as if he’s still a seventeen-year-old kid in over his head. Komarov may have even gotten more condescending as the years have gone by, because once Donny died, he no longer had a Moretti as an ally.
Antonio avoided doing business with him, and stayed out of his way otherwise. So, while he and Komarov aren’t enemies, he doesn’t have much good will to bargain with. But he looks over at Alex, still holding on to the chair for dear life, and he knows there’s never been any moment he’s needed to succeed more than now. Antonio sniffs hard and rubs his nose. “I’m here to make a deal that will benefit every person in this room.”
Komarov’s smile stays on his face as if it’s painted. “I wasn’t aware you had anything I desired. And until five minutes ago, I would have assumed the opposite was true for you. But consider me intrigued.”
“We’re prepared to trade knowledge for Alex’s debt.”
“What could you possibly offer of commensurate value to what’s still on her tab?”
“A certified list of every single dirty official in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.”
“And what makes you think that’s not something I’m capable of acquiring myself?”
“I’m sure you could. Yet you haven’t.”
Ivan offers nothing further. Not that Antonio expects him to. Even a second-rate negotiator would know better than to play their cards so openly.
Frankly, Antonio couldn’t care less if he accepts the trade or not. He’s prepared to pay the balance directly, but if he admits as much right this second, something tells him Alex won’t be pleased.
He turns to her and asks, “Can you give us a second?”
There’s a tiny, strained breath, before she responds, “Sure.”
“Ms. Agneau once again has a guardian angel looking out for her,” Komarov declares after Alex leaves. “Tell me, Mr. Moretti. How much do you know about our arrangement?”
“Enough. But ten million can be a lot to keep track of. So, what are we looking at, here?”
“Two-and-a-half left, to be spread over the next two years.”
Less than I thought. That’s good. “I’d say what we’re offering is worth at least half that. I’ll cover the rest myself.”
Komarov steeples his hands. “As I suspected. This is personal, isn’t it?”
Antonio doesn’t have to answer that question because Komarov already knows the answer. He has from the moment Alex and Antonio stepped foot through that ugly, brown door. These walls are probably filled with the whispers of stolen truths, handed over by those who never stood a chance in here. Antonio can’t give Komarov the satisfaction of being the next he exploits.
“As I originally said, this is me making a deal that benefits us all,” he says firmly, trying to keep any building ire from his tone.
“You know, despite the circumstances that brought us together, I have developed something of an attachment to Ms. Agneau. Or an attachment to her abilities would be more accurate to say.”
Antonio presses his palms on the desk and leans forward. The guard places a hand on his gun, but Komarov waves him off.
“Take a breath, Mr. Moretti. I’m simply appraising the talent before me.” He taps his fingers on the desk. Slowly.
If he doesn’t say anything in the next ten seconds, I’m gonna–
“Without some principles, we’d be no better than the scum on our shoes, yes? I’ll value Ms. Agneau’s work at…five hundred. And I assumed you’d–”
“Yes.” There’s a sizable sum of money in a trust Donny Moretti set up for Antonio many years ago. Antonio only touches it when donating to different charities throughout the year. This might not be the exact same situation, but it’s certainly as good a cause as any. “You agree to leave Alex alone after this, and you’ll have it in twenty-four hours,” Antonio says.
That pasted smile returns. “My, my, my. I do hope this all turns out to be worth it. Time will tell if you make the same choices as your father.” Komarov lays his palm in front of Antonio. “I accept your exchange. Upon receipt of final payment, my business with Ms. Agneau will conclude.”
“And Simon.” Antonio holds a thumb drive over Komarov’s hand. “I’ve never tried to interfere with your operations, and I don’t plan on changing that. But I highly doubt you’ll find a way to get what you want from him without it involving me. This thing has all you need, trust me.”
Ivan nods and Antonio drops the drive. Something about it all feels a little too easy, but it seems fair enough. Alex is free, Komarov gets the rest of his money back, and Antonio solves this “bug” problem.
He leaves the office with his head high. Laughs echo throughout the corridor, one of which Antonio easily recognizes as Alex’s. The other belongs to a familiar, average-height man, nowhere near as hostile-looking as some of Komarov’s other employees. He caresses Alex’s hand, which looks rather limp. Antonio continues on, uninterested in giving them more time to do whatever it is they’re doing.
“And here we thought you’d be working for his grandkids,” the man says.
“Okay, quit while you’re ahead,” Alex says, tucking her braids behind her ear.
He gives a short laugh. “I’m hoping everything works out, though. Honestly. This isn’t your world.”
Well, that’s one thing we can agree on.
The man continues to rub Alex’s hand, but she pulls away quickly as Antonio makes his way over.
“Congratulations, Ms. Agneau,” he says. “You never have to step foot in this place again.”
Alex stammers in apparent disbelief. She looks to her buddy, who shrugs and smiles.
“Guess I’ll see you around. Just not here,” he says.
Alex laughs softly. “Right. Uhh… Right.”
“You’d better get out of here before he changes his mind, though,”
Antonio grimaces. “What?”
“He’s joking! He’s. Joking. Right, Nikolai?” Alex asks.
“Course I am. Jeez.”
“Are you ready to go?” Antonio grumbles to Alex. He’s asking, but he’s ready to scoop her up and carry her right on out of there if he has to.
It doesn’t come to that. Alex says her goodbyes to this Nikolai, and afterwards Antonio follows her to exit the church, passing her only to open doors.
Once outside, he does the same for his car, but when Alex gets there, she places a hand on the roof and stares at the pavement.
“Can you just… Say out loud that it’s over? For good?” she whispers.
It’s not that strange Alex needs that. Antonio personally doesn’t consider a deal done until the ink dries. Since there’s no contract, his words will have to do. “It’s over, Al—”
Alex launches onto Antonio, flinging her arms around his neck. He immediately wraps his around her waist, telling himself it’s only to make sure she doesn’t fall, and pretending the way her thumb brushes his skin doesn’t make his heart go on a spree.
Is that her hair?
Antonio lowers his nose, and sure enough, the sweet smell infiltrating his nostrils gets stronger. It’s like being in a candy store.
Alex shudders and sniffles. “Oh, God. Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. This is probably …” She leans back, but they hold onto each other.
It definitely is.
“I…it’s fine. I just don’t really…think I deserved that.”
“Okay… Sorry. Again.”
As if things couldn’t get any more awkward, after they untangle themselves and transition to the car, Antonio feels like he swallowed sand. “By the way, was that Nik?” he croaks, putting on his seat belt.
“That…was Nik, yes.”
“Hm.”
“Not again with the ‘hms’, Antonio. And you still never said what you meant earlier. About my cup of tea.”
“Because it wasn’t important.”
“It is to me.”
Antonio, unused to going back and forth, feels like his response flows from his mouth of its own accord. “I was just saying…this Serg guy didn’t even bother searching you, and now Nik? He made you cry yesterday, and today you were acting as if nothing happened.”
Alex scrunches her nose. “First of all, I was crying because a man broke into my office and my home and threatened me multiple times. This man also felt me up not too long ago, and after all that, I still felt an overwhelming urge to throw myself in his arms. What can I say? I have issues.”
You and me both. “Take it easy. I only asked because I realized I passed him walking into your place. And he sounds like the guy you called to pretend to be Charlie. Right?”
She fans her neck. “Yes. And…as far as Serg, I told you he’s literally old enough to be my father. He looks out for me. I’ve even tutored his son in Algebra.”
“And Ben?” he blurts.
“What about him?”
“You’re the one who brought up your late night.”
“Oh, my God. You think me and Ben…?” Alex laughs and slaps Antonio’s elbow. “Well. I admit, he’s too pretty for his own good.”
“Mhmm.”
“He’s phenomenal at massages. That’s ‘cuz he used to work at a spa. Turned out, the owner wasn’t even licensed, so it got shut down.”
“Okay.”
“He’s also great at cuddling.”
Antonio rolls his eyes. “Good for Ben.”
Alex snickers. “He’s one of the few people who knows about my…extracurricular activities.”
“I would imagine.”
“And most importantly—”
“–Alex, you don’t have to–”
“–he’s one-hundred percent gay.” She pauses, and Antonio feels foolish, though he tries not to look it. “So actually, it’s you who’s his cup of tea. When you left the store, he was asking why God would create someone who looks like you and then make them so scary.” She giggles.
Antonio sighs, but Alex’s laugh is close to corrupting him. Also…he can’t help but cling to her implication regarding his looks. Not that it matters.
“I can’t wait to tell him,” Alex continues. “Does this have anything to do with why you looked so constipated this morning? I thought it was just how you always are, but you sounded extra stiff ever since our phone call. And then you almost bit Nik’s head off for his joke.”
“Because it was a dumb-ass joke. And I wasn’t constipated, I was pissed off, but not for the reason you’re thinking.” Antonio is failing miserably at staying out of this dangerous territory, but apparently, Alex is becoming very good at getting him there.
“What reason is that?”
“I wasn’t jealous.” Aw, fuck.
She tuts, teasingly. “Ooh, Mr. Moretti. The word never came out of my mouth.”
“You thought it, though.”
“So you can read minds? Did you not want to reveal it so early in the morning?”
“Oh my God, woman. You know what? I changed my mind.”
“About what?” The delight fades from her eyes.
“I do want something else from you. A thorough explanation on how the hell you got involved in all this in the first place.”
Alex peers out the window and plays with her ear for what seems like the hundredth time. “I…guess that’s fair.”
Suddenly, a growl rages.
Antonio looks around in the car. “What the hell was that? A gremlin?”
Alex rubs her stomach. “Funny. You know, in case you forgot, I was pretty hungover. I woke up later than usual, and then I came straight to you. And you stopped me from eating one of the sandwiches your employees so generously offered,” she says, fluttering her eyelashes.
“Are you trying to say it’s my fault you didn’t eat?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. And it’s your fault I drank so much after you left my place. Plus, I can’t talk on an empty stomach.”
Antonio scoffs. “So what do you call what you’ve been doing?” He pulls off from the curb after Alex crosses her arms. “You’d better tell a damn good story.”