Devious Vow: Chapter 32

“You’re sure?”

“Positive,” Taylor says icily. “They’re both locked out of anything and everything at the office. I even had their keycards for the lobby deactivated.”

Charles is going to raise hell when he realizes we’ve shut him and Caroline out of Crown and Black. But with these allegations that he’s involved in the hit on Roberto?

Yeah, no fucking way does he get to stick his nose in our business. Not until we figure out what to do next. Before that, though, I have to get through this fucking dinner with Massimo, and Gabriel has to drop the bomb on Judge Hawkins and get the Chinellato case shut down.

“What about the board members loyal to Charles?”

Taylor sighs. “No. We can duke it out with Charles and Caroline whether or not we have the right to lock them out, but if we start clamping down on everyone on the board who disagrees with us, it’ll look bad, and give Charles the ammo he’d need to turn all of them against us.”

I hate that she’s right. But she is right.

“I’m having IT monitor any data access from board members, though. We can individually shadow-block them from certain files if it looks like they’re snooping for Charles.”

“Good idea. Thanks, Taylor.”

She exhales. “Any update on Roberto?”

“Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the show?” I sigh. “He’s still knocked out after the surgery, but stable.”

I’d like to credit myself for startling Roberto enough when we were sitting at that picnic table that he flinched, thereby causing the yet-unfound sniper to miss. But the more likely reason that he’s still alive is that the shooter was garbage.

Which, not for nothing, sort of points at Charles and his tendency of hiring the cheapest guys for jobs you should probably be paying top dollar for.

“Gabriel’s submitting his motion to Judge Hawkins to indefinitely delay any proceedings as we speak.”

“Good,” Taylor sighs. She pauses for a second. “Are you–”

“I’m fine.”

“Alistair, you were shot at,” she says tersely.

“I’ve got forty-sixty odds that whoever was pulling that trigger couldn’t have hit me if I were standing still and glowing in the dark,” I mutter. “But in any case, I think we both know I wasn’t the target.”

She exhales. “And you’re seriously still getting dinner with Massimo?”

“Now, Taylor. I wouldn’t want to insult the man.”

“Yes, cancelling on steaks,” she says dryly. “I’m sure that’s what it is about you and your actions as of late that would insult him.”

I roll my eyes and glance up at the front of the venerable Keens Steakhouse in midtown, where I’m meeting with Massimo.

“Does that conclude your super motivating TED Talk, Taylor?”

“For now. Good luck, Alistair.”

“Thanks,” I grunt into the phone as I step into Keens. “Gotta go.”

I end the call and am following the maître d’ to Massimo’s private dining room when I notice a familiar face at the bar. Carmine Barone arches a brow in recognition as he stands from his bar stool.

“Mr. Black,” he growls, extending a hand.

“Mr. Barone,” I nod back, shaking it.

He glances at the maître d’. “Would you give us a minute?”

When we’re alone, he gestures to the bar. “What are you drinking?”

I hesitate. “I’m actually about to sit down with Massimo…”

Carmine snorts. “So, that would be a yes on a drink?”

I chuckle. “Sure. A fast one. I’m buying.”

“Is this where you pay me back for the other night?”

I stiffen, glancing at him. “It was just a poker game, Mr. Barone. There was nothing else going on under the surface, despite what you seem to think.”

He smirks. “First of all, my friends call me Carmy.”

“Are we friends?”

“I did do you a solid the other night. I’d say that makes us friends, don’t you?”

When I pointedly don’t respond, he sighs and high signs the bartender. The man strolls over and pours us two whiskeys before drifting away again.

“We don’t know each other very well, Mr. Black.”

“I thought we were on a first name basis now?”

He nods. “Alistair, then. Something you might not know about me is that I consider myself a bit of an expert when it comes to married women.”

I look pointedly at the lack of wedding ring on his finger.

“You mean women married to other men.”

He lifts a brow, shrugging as he sips his drink. “What can I say? The heart wants what the heart wants.” He turns to level a hard look at me. “Bu when it comes to your own preference in…shall we say, unavailable women?”

“Mr. Barone⁠—”

“It’s Carmy, and please, I’m not an idiot, Alistair.” He looks at me coolly. “Be careful.”

“Of?”

“Massimo.”

“I thought you were buddies.”

He laughs coldly. “Fuck no. But let him think that as long as he wants. My point is, Massimo might come off like a buffoon, but he isn’t nearly as stupid or reckless as he makes himself out to be.” He gives me a significant look. “I really mean that. It’s all an act. That fucker is way more calculating and devious than he lets anyone think. Be careful.”

“Mr. Black?”

The maître d’ materializes at my elbow.

“Your guest is expecting you.”

Carmy arches a brow. “You got balls, counselor, I’ll give you that. Dinner with the man whose…possessions you’re coveting?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well,” he nods as he finishes his drink. “Let’s hope Massimo doesn’t either.”

I won’t lie, I’m on edge when I step into Massimo’s private dining room after Carmy’s miserable attempt at a pep talk. But whatever tension I’m holding in my jaw melts away when I realize A, how drunk Massimo already is, and B, how much of a bullshit dinner this is going to be.

There’s no weird tension. No suspicion. The man doesn’t even mention Eloise or the fact that she’s been on a business trip with Taylor for almost four days. The “dinner to discuss business” truly is just that: talking business, drinking, and eating fantastic steaks.

It’s an odd sensation, sitting across from the man whose wife I’ve essentially claimed for myself. Even though they’re not a real thing, and even though this hardly constitutes an “affair” given that their “relationship” is purely transactional and has never once been physical, there’s still this rush of…something…in my veins.

Smugness, maybe. Triumph.

Mostly, I’m just ignoring him, with my thoughts squarely on Eloise.

…And all the ways I’m going to make her scream the second I get back to the hotel after this absurd meal.

My filthy thoughts and Massimo’s ramblings about trying to get a casino license for the city of New York—yeah, good luck with that—are interrupted by my phone ringing on the table next to me. Glancing down, I see Gabriel’s number.

I grin. My brother was submitting a petition to Judge Hawkins tonight to delay all proceedings, given the attempt on Roberto’s life. But that’s not the only thing Gabriel was delivering to Judge Hawkins. He was also submitting Valerie’s sworn deposition concerning her affair with Roberto, which also acts as his airtight alibi.

In all probability, even after she sees Valerie’s statement, Judge Hawkins would still go ahead with the trial. But she could decide that this is enough evidence to merit tossing the whole case out tonight.

“Mr. Carveli, apologies, I have to take this.”

He shrugs casually, deep in his whiskey. “Go ahead. I’m going to get that waitress with the ass back in here for another round,” he grins.

Yeah, you do that.

I step out of the dining room and slip around the corner before answering.

“So,” I grin. “Am I ordering champagne⁠—”

“Valerie Siff is dead.”

A cold sensation rips down my spine.

Valerie, as in the spurned wife of the deputy mayor of Montclair.

As in, the cornerstone to our entire defense alibi.

“What the fuck?!” I snarl.

“Double tapped to the head, execution-style,” Gabriel spits. “We are fucked, Alistair.”

“Shit!” I swear, whirling and stopping myself just before I punch the wall. “Judge Hawkins?”

“Heard the news same as me, about five minutes before I walked into her chambers waving that deposition.” He swears. “She’s tossing that as inadmissible now, by the way. Seeing as the prosecution can’t cross examine Valerie anymore.”

“Motherfucker!” I hiss. “How the fuck did anyone find her?”

For obvious reasons, we’ve been putting Valerie up somewhere safe until the trial. It’s a fairly common practice with witnesses in big cases involving the mafia, and it’s hardly the first time we’ve done it.

Nobody but Taylor, Gabriel, and I knew that Valerie was staying under an assumed name at a spa up by Buffalo, New York.

“That’s…” Gabriel exhales slowly. “That’s why I’m calling.”

I barge ahead. “Okay, we need to make a list. Any associates, interns…whoever had access to that information⁠—”

“We don’t need a list, Alistair,” he growls. “You know who had access to that information. You, me, and Taylor, and we all kept it on absolute lockdown in our offices. No one has access to my office without me present, same goes for Taylor.”

My jaw begins to clench.

“Be very careful what you say next.”

“We’re past that, brother,” he says quietly. “Who had access to your office without you being there?”

“Stop talking.”

“Look past your feelings!” he snaps. “Look past whatever the fuck you’re doing with Eloise and read the fucking writing on the wall!”

“We’re not having this conversation⁠—”

“The fuck we aren’t!” he barks. “Look at the goddamn facts, Alistair! Like dad would!”

“Fuck you,” I rasp.

“She had access, Alistair.”

“She’s not⁠—”

“She’s screwed you over before.”

“Shut the fuck up!!!”

“She’s married to Massimo!”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything!?”

Gabriel sighs heavily. “Hang on, I’m conferencing in Taylor. You need to hear this for yourself.”

I hear a click as the third line connects.

“Alistair?” Taylor says quietly.

“What?” I snarl, my very skin sizzling with rage.

“I just got a call from Vinny Glaudini.”

Vinny’s the acting boss of the Pastore Family while Tony Pastore is in prison. He’s also one of our clients in Chicago that Taylor flew out to talk with.

“And?” I hiss.

“While I was out there, he was all business. But he called just now as a show of respect to let me know that we’ve been getting fucked without even realizing it.”

“Elaborate,” I grit through clenched teeth.

It’s not Eloise. There’s no fucking way she has anything to do with any of this shit.

“You know how Massimo’s been up our asses asking about the Chinellato case? Because they’re old buddies, and business associates, and he’s so concerned for Roberto?” She laughs coldly. “Yeah, that’s all horseshit. Roberto and Massimo had a huge falling out in Chicago a couple of months ago. There was a deal that went bad, and a gunfight ensued. Roberto’s guys took out two of Massimo’s top lieutenants, and apparently ran off with both the cash and the weapons they were there to make the deal for.”

Fuck. Me.

The deal Roberto was telling me about in the prison yard, before he was shot? The one where he tried to rip someone off and got burned for it?

That someone was Massimo fucking Carveli.

I don’t have time to wonder how fucking stupid Roberto had to be to think he could pull a scam like that on the head of the entire Carveli family.

…I’m too busy focusing on the fact that Charles was in on that deal too.

With Massimo.

“They’re not buddies, man,” Gabriel hisses. “They’re enemies, and Massimo’s only interested in the case because he wants Roberto fucking gone.”

“Gabriel,” I hiss. “You need to listen to me⁠—”

“Open your fucking eyes!” my brother roars.

“They’re fucking open!” I snarl back. “But listen to me! Before he got shot, Roberto told me that Massimo and Charles are into some shit together. The deal that went bad in Chicago? Charles was in on that with Massimo.”

“Fucking hell,” Gabriel grunts. “Can you prove that?”

“Not yet. But when Roberto is talking again, I’ll⁠—”

“We need to be focusing on the obvious right now. We all know Charles is a piece of shit, but this is bigger. Alistair, I know you don’t want to hear this, but Eloise is the only loose end⁠—”

“You have no idea what you’re saying!” I hurl back. “Taylor, back me⁠—”

“Alistair,” she says quietly. “I mean…come on. She’s the only one who could have possibly known where Valerie was staying⁠—”

“Fuck you both,” I snap. “You’re being insane.”

“And you’re being an idiot!” Gabriel spits. “She’s⁠—”

“I’m allowed to find happiness!” I roar back. “I am allowed to⁠—”

“With her?!” Gabriel yells. “She’s fucking married, you idiot! To Massimo! I mean how many fucking red flags need to be waved in your idiotic face before⁠—”

I hang up abruptly, seething.

Fuck him.

Fuck Taylor, too.

I know Eloise.

I know her. I mean, yes, I’ve been down the mistrust road with her before, and it ate me alive for ten years.

But I’m done with that.

I jam my phone into my pocket and stalk back toward the private dining room. Right outside the door, I freeze when I hear Massimo’s voice from inside.

“Eloise worked perfectly,” he chuckles.

Holy shit.

Massimo laughs quietly again into the phone.

“It went exactly how I said it would go. See? I told you Eloise would be an asset at that law firm.”

The floor drops out, and my fucking world crumbles.

I manage to keep my expression neutral as I tell Massimo that a work thing needs my attention at the office. Then I’m staggering out of the private dining room and calling Gabriel back.

“Look,” my brother sighs as he answers. “I’m fucking sorry, man. I truly mean that. You do deserve happiness, Alistair, and you have to know how much it pains me to⁠—

“Gabriel.”

My voice is razor-sharp steel.

“What’s going on,” Gabriel says quietly.

“You’re at the office?”

My blood feels like napalm in my veins. I’m looking with tunnel vision at the wall in front of me as my face turns to a stony mask.

“I am,” my brother says.

“Go to my filing cabinet,” I rasp. “The keys to it and my office door are on a pink lanyard in Katerina’s top drawer. Do it now.”

“Gimme a sec.”

I wait, listening to Gabriel running. Then there’s the sound of my office door swinging open.

“Okay.” Gabriel clears his throat. “I’m in. What am I looking⁠—”

“Top drawer.”

It’s all horribly clicking into place, and suddenly I know why seeing Katerina’s keys in my office rang a bell somewhere in my head.

It was the day I walked in on Eloise in my office in her panties, with chai latte spilled on her skirt.

…The same chai latte I found sticky and dried on my carpet and splashed on the side of my file cabinet later.

And when I think past her that day, past kissing her, and tasting her, and falling for her bullshit all over again, I know where I saw Katerina’s keys on the pink lanyard.

They were in the lock of that file cabinet.

God in heaven.

It was her.

Eloise was in my private files, seeing where Valerie was being kept, and reporting that back to Massimo, who just had her killed.

But Valerie Siff’s fake name and whereabouts aren’t the only things I had in that locked file cabinet.

“Okay,” Gabriel mutters. “Where in the top⁠—”

“Halfway back. You’re looking for the folder labeled Carveli,” I growl. “Luca Carveli.”

I hardly knew Massimo’s father. I mean, I know was a piece of shit, just like his son. But for some reason, he chose Crown and Black for his east coast legal representation, even though he lived in LA.

We met maybe three times, mostly for run-of-the-mill legal issues like signing off on a contract he needed for a construction project, or a residential building he was looking at purchasing.

But there was one big thing I did, legally speaking, for Luca Carveli.

His will.

There’s the sound of rummaging for a second.

“I have it.”

“His will is in there. I need you to read it.”

“Give me a sec.” Gabriel clears his throat. “Well, no surprises. Everyone knows Luca and Massimo were at odds for years. This is the previous version of his will, where he stipulates that Massimo never becomes the head of the Carveli family, and doesn’t get a dime of Luca’s money⁠—”

“Look at the last page.”

“Hang on…” I can hear my brother’s breath catch. “Holy shit…”

I know what he’s looking at.

The day before Luca flew to Paris, where he eventually died either a day or a week later, depending on which rumor you believe, he stopped by Crown and Black since he was in New York anyway. He had me fill out an addendum to his will, signed and dated that day.

The addendum clarified that everything in the original will, specifically the part where Massimo gets nothing, was his most up-to-date wishes. The wording was…emphatic.

“This is dated like a week before he died,” Gabriel growls. “Jesus, he doesn’t pull any punches. ‘My spoiled, idiotic, insufferable weakling of a son, Massimo, will not take my place as leader of the Carveli organization. He also receives one dollar of my fortune and nothing else’. I mean…holy shit.”

I grimace. “What the fuck do you think the odds are that they hugged it out and made up sometime between a day or a week after that, right before Luca’s ‘heart attack’?”

“You’re the betting man, Alistair,” my brother mutters.

“Yeah, well, I call odds like that slim-to-fucking-none,” I spit, my pulse thudding in my ears.

“So Massimo forged his dad’s will to become king. Fucking hell,” Gabriel breathes. “If the other families in The Commission found out⁠—”

“Which is exactly why he had Eloise trying to steal that will you’re currently holding from my office.”

My brother exhales heavily. “I’m calling Taylor. How soon can you be at the office for a war-room sit down?”

“Soon.” My eyes narrow. “There’s something I have to take care of first.”

“Alistair—”

“See you soon.”

I hang up abruptly and storm through Keens for the front door, making a detour to the bar first.

Carmy Barone jumps as I grab his shoulder from behind and yank him around.

“Jesus Christ, Alistair,” he grunts, glaring. “You scared the fuck out⁠—”

“What would it be worth to The Commission to know that Massimo Carveli is the wrongful head of the Carveli family as a result of forging his father’s will?”

Carmine’s mouth draws to a line.

“Alistair—”

“I’m fucking serious, Carmy,” I snarl.

His eyes narrow. “Do you have proof?”

“Plenty.”

The corners of his lips curl dangerously.

“I’d say it’d be worth quite a fucking lot to The Commission to know that,” he growls. “Quite a fucking lot.”

After that, I go directly to the hotel.

To Eloise.

Because I have to look her in the eye and know if I’m going crazy, or if I’ve just fallen for her bullshit all over again.