Deception (Infidelity #3)(68)

I didn’t need to hear until. I knew until. “Yes, I know that part. Now what?”

“The old man wants our help again. The description fits him now. He’s getting older and concerned about the future of his name and company.”

I stared into the melting ice cubes as I spun them mindlessly in my glass. “Cut to the point, Vinny. I’m not—”

Vincent’s large hand fell to the table, loudly and very close to mine. “Oren, careful. We’re family, but even family is respectful. Tell me that you’re respectful.”

“Yes. I’m respectful and thankful for all of the help…”

“Surveillance.”

“What?” I asked.

“You know that we have some of the best equipment with some of the best people who watch out for our interests. Talking to Montague made me realize how everyone could benefit from that technology. Under your umbrella, you will form a security company. We’ll use our guys. It will look and sound legit.”

I clenched my teeth as he continued to describe his plan for a new subsidiary of Demetri Enterprises.

“One of the first jobs,” he went on, “and let me say, a lucrative one at that, will be for Montague.”

I shook my head. “In his factories? On the dock? In his office buildings? What are we talking about? How many hubs? Round the clock?”

“You get it started. Do what you do. Get other jobs so this one doesn’t stand out, but the main goal is his home and corporate office.”

His home?

I’d seen it when I checked on Collins’s wife and daughter. The thing was a castle. It was just missing the moat.

“Have you seen his home?” I asked.

Vincent’s eyes widened. “I have. Why have you?”

“I did my research after… California.”

“Then you know he has a daughter and his wife’s remarried?”

I shrugged as if I hadn’t paid that close of attention to Russell Collins’s widow. As if I hadn’t watched her more than once in Savannah or seen her and her little girl.

That night, years ago, at the bar, Collins had described his marriage as one from hell with a wife as cold and frigid as a witch’s tit. But that wasn’t what I’d seen. If I’d allow myself to have any feelings, one way or another, regarding Collins or his widow, I’d admit that I was glad she’d found someone after the death of her husband. She was too young and beautiful to spend the rest of her life alone.

“Yes, I’d heard she had,” I replied casually.

“Old man Montague wants to be sure the new husband is the man to keep Montague going. He wants to know without a doubt that when he passes to the afterworld, Alton Fitzgerald will look after the Montague name and legacy.”

“And this can’t be done with an established company?”

“Not if it’s to be kept under wraps. He doesn’t want anyone at Montague to be the wiser. No one will know but the old man.”

I’d grown cold over the years, but I wasn’t dead, not yet. Murder would have been a quicker favor. Nevertheless, I was relieved that it hadn’t been the request that he’d made. Setting up a front for some cameras and bugs could be done with a lighter conscience—assuming I still had one.

“Give me a month or two,” I said. “It takes time to get the permits and set up the real estate.”

“No more than two.”

Vincent downed the rest of his drink and slapped the glass on the table. “Tell my cousin I said hello.”

“I will.” If she’s talking to me.

“One more thing, how’s Lennox doing?”

My chest tightened. Vincent had been the one I’d specifically asked to keep Lennox out of the family business. “Busy. He’s in school, playing all kinds of sports. You know Angelina, she wants him involved in everything.”

“Everything except the family business?”

“He’s only fifteen.”

“Do you have any idea what I knew at fifteen?” Vincent asked.

“Two months,” I promised, avoiding the subject. “I’ll have the security company up and running in two months.”

Vincent patted my shoulder. “Luca wants to get the cousins together this summer. New boat.”

“Give Angelina a call. She’s in charge of our social calendar.”

“Until next time.”

“Next time,” I repeated, as I stayed seated and watched him and Jimmy turn their backs my direction and walk casually toward the exit.

The bell on the door jingled.





WAS THAT A DREAM?

As wake and sleep intermingled and the morning sun eased through the blinds, the question floated through my mind.

Stretching my arms and legs across the mattress, the soft sheets caressed my bare skin as the newly familiar, wonderful ache of contentment settled into my core. Despite my hand only finding an empty bed, I knew the answer to my question: it’d been real.

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips as my fingertips skimmed from my new necklace down to my bare breasts, running circles around my overly sensitive nipples. With a satisfied moan, my hands moved farther down my naked body. When I’d gone to sleep, I’d been wearing pajamas.

Now, I wasn’t.