The VIP Room(123)
“Come over here and eat.”
Sophie groaned, but she did as asked, gobbling down the toast Emma had brought her so fast that she was a little worried she would choke on it. Emma opened her mouth to remind her to give herself a little extra insulin to cover it, but Sophie tugged the insulin pump out of her bra and did it before she could put voice to words.
Somehow, they managed to find Sophie’s shirt—it turned out to be a graphic tee with the logo of her favorite band on the front. If she had told Emma that, she would have found it a little quicker. And then they rushed out the door, both of them late for class by the time their feet hit the sidewalk.
“Have a brilliant day,” Emma said, kissing Sophie’s cheek before sending her off in the direction of the high school. Then she turned on her heel and headed in the opposite direction. It was as she turned that she caught something out of the corner of her eye. A dark vehicle, tall and ornate, too nice for her neighborhood. She glanced back and, sure enough, it was there, cruising slowly along the side of the road. The sight of it caused a little chill to run down the length of Emma’s spine. She quickened her step, deciding it was better to mind her business and get to work as quickly as possible.
But then he pulled up alongside her.
“Dirty little building,” he said. “Probably be doing the neighborhood a favor by taking it down. Would be better as a parking lot. Or maybe a strip mall. What do you think?”
She didn’t miss a step, didn’t bother to look at him. But she could feel his gaze on her and it was like a magnifying glass on an ant. It felt like it was burning a hole in the back of her head.
“I warned you that you would regret crossing me.”
He gunned the engine on his car, but didn’t take off right away. It was like a lion warning his prey he was coming.
When he did go, it was with a squeal of tires, a real masculine show of dominance.
Like he thought he was getting the last laugh.
* * *
Emma borrowed Martha’s laptop computer that night, using it to do research on DJC, Inc. She wanted to know everything she could about the company that took her livelihood and was trying to take her home. There was a lot to comb through. DJC was a conglomeration consisting of so many diverse companies that Emma was lost only a few minutes in. They had their thumbs in everything from real estate to financial planning to software development. It was like everything that was current, that was a hot money maker, they were involved in some way or another. There were pictures of their various real estate development projects online, including neighborhoods they renovated from rundown, sad communities to hip, bohemian places young couples found interesting. She could see how they might be interested in the building where she lived, but…
Why was it so personal? Why was he targeting her?
As she surfed through the wide array of information available, she came to a short biography of Dante Caito. His parents were Italian immigrants who came to America when they were newlyweds, opened a bakery and turned it into a profitable, little business that allowed their only child to attend the college of his choice. It was while attending Stanford that Dante met his first business partner, Charlie Todd, and started a small software company whose sale would provide Dante with the money to start DJC, Inc.
It wasn’t much of a bio. It didn’t give any details of his studies, the motivations for his choices in life. And it didn’t give much information on his private life, beyond the brief history of his parents. It didn’t explain why he was such a rude jerk or why he was so determined to ruin a girl who was already about as close to destitute as a person could get. After reading it three or four times, Dante Caito remained as much a mystery to Emma as he was before she found it.
She sat back, frustration burning in her chest. She had to talk to someone who knew this guy, had to know what she could do to stop this persecution. Surely there was something she could do—a letter of apology or a discussion of restitution—that would make him stop, that would, perhaps, convince him not to evict her and all the other people who made the building their home. She was struggling. And she knew her neighbors were, too. If this was really about her, maybe she could convince him to let them stay. There was an old woman on the first floor, she had no family and survived on her social security checks. Where was she going to go when her lease was up?
It was insane. She had to find—
And then she remembered the young woman he was with that day in the diner.
Chapter 7
“Excuse me.”
The blond turned, a mask of indifference on her face until she recognized Emma. And then it melted, turning into concern. Deep concern.
“You shouldn’t be here. If he sees you—“
“Why is he doing this?”
The woman glanced over her shoulder at the stone and steel office building behind her. DJC was carved on the large stone above the revolving doors, leaving no question for those entering its bowels where they were going.
“Please, just explain to me what’s going on.”
The woman focused on Emma, a whole array of emotions dancing through her eyes. Emma caught sadness and regret, thought she saw a little guilt, too.
“He wasn’t always like this,” she said softly. “I’ve worked with him for nearly ten years. He used to be a good man.”