Chapter 25
GIANNI
“Speak.”
The single word out of my mouth gives her pause, as if second-guessing herself. Then the fire returns.
"The stock price dropped four points this week," Theresa says, not sitting.
"Investors are spooked. The FBI presence in the building is public knowledge. Someone photographed the agents in the lobby, and it made the business section of the Post. Our institutional shareholders are asking questions I can't answer without lying. And I don’t like lying. Not about this.”
"Then reassure them. That's your job."
"My job is to protect this company. Which is why I need to talk to you about Violet."
My expression is neutral, my posture relaxed, and I wait.
"I know who she is," Theresa says. "Or who she was.
Word travels fast when the FBI shows up and one of their agents can't stop staring at the office manager.
" She crosses her arms. "Lance Dawson is her ex-husband.
Which means the woman you've installed in your penthouse with her son is directly connected to the man trying to bring down your company. "
"Careful, Theresa."
"I am being careful,” she says. “And more and more it’s beginning to feel like I’m the only goddamn person in this office who is.”
She’s out of line, but I don’t say anything. I narrow my eyes a bit, and the flash of her own eyes lets me know the message was received.
“Listen,” she continues. “I'm the only person in this building who's willing to tell you what you don't want to hear.
" She steps closer. "She's a liability. She's the reason Dawson transferred to New York.
She's the reason he's pushing so hard, because this isn't just a RICO investigation for him—it's personal.
And as long as she's here, in this office, in your life, he has motivation. You take her out of the picture, and maybe this all becomes less personal for him—less interesting, even.”
"And how do you suggest I do that?”
"Fire her. Send her away. Whatever you need to do. But get her out of this company before she costs you everything."
The room is very quiet. I let the words hang in the air.
"Is that the professional recommendation," I say, "or the personal one?"
The question lands where I intended it. Her expression flickers, but just barely
"This isn't about—"
I hold up my hand, interrupting her. “If you think for one second I'm going to remove a woman from this building because her presence catches a dirty federal agent’s attention, you have fundamentally misunderstood who I am and what I'm willing to do to protect the people I care about."
She stares at me. I watch the calculation move through her eyes, as if she’s determined that this particular angle isn’t going to work and is trying to figure out what might.
I also see something else like humiliation. A woman scorned is the most dangerous creature on the planet. Her eyes narrow and I realize exactly what she’s up to.
Theresa steps towards me slowly, approaching the desk. When she’s near, she leans onto it, her blouse loose enough that I can see what she really came into my office to “discuss.”
“You don’t need to do any of this, Gianni.
You don’t need to play protector for some runaway and her kid.
You can make things simple and easy and fun just like they used to be.
It wasn’t that long ago. It’d be so easy to pick things up right where we left them, and then you won’t have a need for her. Just say the word.”
Even before Violet it would’ve been a non-starter. Now, it’s unthinkable.
"Stick to your job," I say. "Shore up the investors. Manage the press. Keep the stock from falling further. That's what I need from you. Everything else—the FBI, Dawson, Violet—is mine to handle."
First, disappointment sweeps across her face. Then a flash of anger before settling on placid and professional and bloodless. "And if you can't handle it?"
"I can."
"And if she's not who you think she is?"
"Then I'll deal with that too. But not on your recommendation."
She holds my gaze for three seconds. Then she turns, walks to the door, and opens it, pausing in the frame. "You know I'm right," she says. "You just don't want to hear it. And more than that, you know you’re on the verge of making a huge mistake." Then she’s gone.
I stand at the window and look out at the skyline, my hands clasped behind my back. Theresa came in here for me. That much was obvious. But she’d built a case as pretext. And she’s not wrong about it.
Dawson is preparing to go to war. Hell, his quasi-raid was him already firing the first shot. Every filing and subpoena and dirty trick is designed to tighten the noose until I give up or lose and watch my empire collapse around me.
He’s too confident. He thinks he has me right where he wants me, that my only options are surrender or collapse. But he doesn’t know about the third option—the one where I meet him on the battlefield and fucking conquer.
That’s the option I’m choosing. I’m going to go after him with the same unending, methodical patience I’ve used to build everything he’s trying to destroy.
He thinks he’s hunting me, that Violet is the weak point he’ll attack to bring everything crashing down. Perhaps he’s right about one thing. Violet is my weakness. But she’s also the reason I’m not just going to beat him. I’m going to destroy him.
I pick up my phone and text Spackman.
I want everything on Dawson, every case he’s touched, every partner he’s worked with. I want every rumor about his conduct investigated and substantiated. Go back all the way to Quantico if you have to.
The reply comes almost instantly.
On it.