Chapter 8 - The Shadow of the Past
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The meeting with the Morretti family was a masterclass in psychological warfare.
Three large, heavily armed men sat on the leather sofas in Santino’s study, blowing cigar smoke into the pristine air. The head of the family, Carlo Morretti, was a boisterous, aggressive man who pounded the table to make his points.
Santino sat behind his desk in his wheelchair, utterly immovable, speaking in soft, lethal tones that forced the shouting men to lean forward just to hear him.
Emily sat in the corner, her fingers flying across the stenographer pad. She recorded the numbers, the percentages, the subtle threats masked as business compromises.
“We need access to the Providence warehouses, Santino,” Carlo demanded, jabbing a thick finger in the air. “You have too much dead space. We are bleeding money on storage.”
“The Providence warehouses are currently under renovation,” Santino lied smoothly. “They are unavailable.”
“Renovation? Bullshit,” Carlo scoffed. “You haven't moved a crate out of Warehouse Four in three years. Not since that mess with the driver.”
Emily’s pen snapped violently against the paper.
The sound was sharp like a gunshot in the quiet room.
All four men turned to look at her.
“Apologies, Mr. Ferrara,” Emily said smoothly, reaching into her desk drawer for a new pen, her heart hammering against her ribs so hard she thought it might break through her chest. “Defective ink cartridge.”
Santino looked at her for a long second, his eyes narrowing slightly, before turning back to Carlo.
“Warehouse Four is closed, Carlo. Find another storage facility, or I will start taxing your shipments at the southern port.”
The meeting concluded twenty minutes later with the Morretti men leaving angry but subdued.
When the heavy doors closed behind them, Santino remained silent for a long time.
“You broke your pen,” Santino finally said.
“It was an accident, sir.”
“You don't make accidents, Emily.” Santino wheeled his chair around the desk, stopping a few feet from her. “What did Carlo say that startled you?”
“Nothing, sir. The grip was just weak.”
Santino stared at her, analyzing her completely blank face.
“We are finished for the day. You may go home.”
Emily packed her bag quickly, desperate to escape his piercing gaze. Warehouse Four. Three years ago. The driver.
May you like
It was Tommy. It had to be Tommy.
She finally had a location. She just needed to find the keys to the kingdom to access it.
