Chapter 1 | Katia #2
“He never had the appetite for it, but he’s always loved a pretty lady.”
“Smart man,” I muttered. “Marriage is overrated.”
Michael studied me, questions swirling in his eyes, but he remained focused on our conversation.
“You’re obviously great at math, and I need someone I can trust,” he continued.
“I was dreading hiring someone new to do my books. I obviously have some...sensitive items I need cataloged and covered so they pass muster, if you understand what I mean. Now that Nick works for me, one of the first things I need you to do is create a legitimate way for him to get paid. You would have to be okay working for someone who...” he cleared his throat, “skirts the law, here and there.”
Arching an eyebrow, I asked, “Here and there?”
“Yes. I take you for someone who’s okay with that as long it doesn’t harm anyone. You won’t need to be involved in the more dangerous parts of my business. I just want your math skills and your continued loyalty.”
Swallowing thickly, I lifted my chin. “And if I fail? What if I suck at accounting? Am I going to get whacked?”
A deep laugh rumbled in his chest. “That candor is exactly what I need. I want someone who won’t cower to me.
You’re going to do a fantastic job, and no, I would never hurt you.
” Leaning forward, he tilted his head. “I hope you realize you’re safe with me after working for me for all these years. I’m very fond of you, Katia.”
Inhaling a deep breath, I contemplated. Although I didn’t hate dancing, I certainly didn’t want to be a stripper for the rest of my life. Michael was offering me a way out without me having to spend a dime. I would be a fool not to take his offer.
“And I’ll rent an apartment for you,” he continued. “One close by that we can write off as an expense. You live too far away, and I’ll need you to be closer to the Gilded Cage. My businesses extend over Brooklyn, Queens, and beyond, but I want you to make the Gilded Cage your home base.”
“I like living in Coney Island,” I said. “But it would be nice living a few blocks from here. I can’t afford this part of Brooklyn.”
“Well, you can if I’m paying for it.” Rising, he walked around the desk and extended his hand. “Say yes and you’ll start tomorrow. I’ll have Stan here bright and early with two steaming cups of coffee.”
“Michael, are you sure?” I asked hesitantly as I stood.
“One hundred percent.”
Overwhelmed at the generous offer, I shook his hand. “Deal. I’m going to be the best damn accountant you’ve ever hired. And I promise, I’ll finish the degree in less than two years if I can.”
“I have every confidence in you, Katia,” he said, his dark eyes shining. “Make me look like a legitimate businessman and I’ll give you the damn world.”
Laughing, I nodded. “You’ve got it, boss.”
And that was how I became the accountant for the most powerful mafia boss in the Northeast.
A knock sounded on the door, pulling me back to the present and I called, “Come in!”
Damien entered, his broad shoulders barely contained under his black leather jacket. “Michael says you have to go home because he knows you haven’t eaten.” He lifted his phone, indicating the text Michael had sent him.
Rolling my eyes, I nodded. “I swear, the man is psychic. Tell him to leave me alone and focus on his gorgeous wife who he’s obsessed with.”
Damien grinned. “Will do. How long do you need?”
Damien had been walking me home since Victor Rossi’s death, and I was grateful for his protection, even though it was only a two-block walk.
“Give me ten minutes. Thanks, D.”
He gave a nod and exited, closing the door behind him.
I returned to the reconciliations and clicked through each one, marking them off as I cross-checked them on accounting software. My finger paused above the keyboard as I saw a strange transaction.
“International wire fee...” I murmured, my eyes narrowing as my brain kicked into overdrive. I specifically kept all of Michael’s business transactions in the US to avoid extra scrutiny. My pulse began to thrum as I studied the sender: NYC Bank.
“What the fuck?” I whispered. All of Michael’s holdings were with NY Bank, not NYC Bank. The names were similar, which made the discrepancy easy to miss.
I copied the routing number, which had letters alongside numbers. This was abnormal since a US routing number should only have numerical digits.
Opening a browser, I logged into Michael’s main business account and pulled up the search bar.
Pasting in the routing number, I gasped.
The routing number was an international SWIFT code and the wire fee was attached to a larger transaction of $11,546.
I opened the transaction, my heart dropping to my knees when I saw that Michael had three transactions from Caribbean countries over the past two days, all from NYC bank.
My fingers shook above the keyboard as realization set in.
“Someone’s trying to frame Michael for money laundering,” I whispered, slowly sitting back in my chair and swallowing thickly. “Fuck.”
Lifting my phone, I texted Damien.
Katia: I’m going to need fifteen more minutes.
Damien: No prob. Scarlett’s on stage. Take your time.
I smirked, knowing he would enjoy watching one of the most gorgeous dancers in the club while he waited.
I meticulously went through the bank transactions; cross-checking my software and documenting the deposits.
Thankfully, there were only three deposits, all under $20,000, and I told myself to remain calm.
I needed to visit the bank and speak to the manager to make sure I stopped the erroneous deposits, but I also didn’t want to set off any red flags.
I’d worked hard to ensure Michael’s bank transactions were legitimate, which sometimes meant lumping in cash deposits as part of his business deposits.
The last thing I needed was to put his accounts under scrutiny.
Inhaling deeply, I searched my brain, acknowledging that there was one person in my circle who probably knew the intricacies of money laundering better than anyone. Locating his number in my phone, I shot him a text.
Katia: Hey. I need to speak to you about something pretty urgent. I haven’t told M yet, and would like to speak to you before I do. Can you meet me for coffee tomorrow morning?
Leo: I have an early meeting but can meet you around ten a.m. Do you have a coffee shop in mind? Purple cushions are optional.
Laughing, I typed back. Leo usually met me in a private room here at the club, and last time I’d commented on how uncomfortable he seemed conducting business in the room designed for sexual pleasure.
Katia: I’ll give you a break from the cushions. Bloom Café on President and Fifth. Does that work?
Leo: Yes. See you there around ten.
Katia: Thank you. Coffee on me. I know you’re busy.
Leo: No prob. Are you okay? You’re worrying me.
Katia: I’m fine. See you tomorrow. Thanks again.
Leo: See you then.
I inhaled another calming breath and looked at the ceiling. I didn’t want to keep this from Michael, but I wanted to gather as much information as I could before talking to him. He’d want to know everything, and I wanted to be prepared. My thumbs moved over the screen as I shot him a text.
Katia: I need to meet with you in person. Are you coming to the club tomorrow?
I watched the text bubble as he typed, fortifying myself to give him the bad news.
Michael: I am now. What’s wrong?
Katia: Not over text. I’ll be here by 1pm tomorrow.
Michael: See you then.
I gnawed my lip, ignoring my growling stomach as he texted me again.
Michael: And if you don’t eat, I’m going to force Damien to feed you.
Katia: Sexy, but he’s too young for me. I’m going to grab a slice on the way home. Thanks for thinking of me. Now go bother Bianca. I’m tired.
Michael: She told me to ask you if you’re still coming to dinner on Friday. She’s making lasagna because you said it’s one of your favorites.
Katia: I’ll be there. She’s the best. Probably too good for you.
Michael: Oh, I know it. Don’t tell her, okay? Get home safely. See you tomorrow.
I smiled, genuinely happy for Michael, who’d married the woman he’d loved for years.
Was it strange that I felt that way considering Michael and I had once been intimate?
I didn’t think so, but what did I know? I wasn’t exactly an expert on relationships and preferred the company of my cat to most people.
But Bianca and her daughter Alexis had been nothing but gracious to me since becoming part of Michael’s family, and I liked them both immensely.
I now considered both women friends, which was rare for me. After losing my parents and my sister, I’d developed a harsh view of the world and the people who inhabited it. Trust was difficult for me, and I gave it sparingly.
Somehow, with Bianca and Alexis, it had come very easily. Perhaps that meant I was opening up in some new way. Or maybe I just didn’t want to rock the boat. After all, Bianca was kind to accept her husband’s former lover in her inner circle, and I certainly wasn’t going to shun that goodwill.
My stomach growled and I grimaced. Standing, I muttered, “Okay, okay. You win.”
Gathering my laptop, I stuffed it in my bag and slung it over my shoulder.
The lingering worry about the transactions was still there, but I clung to my faith that I had the ability to figure out what the hell was going on and put a stop to it.
Resolved, I headed into the main part of the club to find Damien so I could walk home and try to get some rest.