Page 28 of Raphael
And then there’s Draven.I have a fiance,I have to remind myself. Although, now I realize, never have I known intimacy before this evening, and that perfect glimpse of happiness keeps my mind reeling.
My path lies along a shadowed lonely road, predetermined by my bloodline. And Raphael shall remain untarnished, free to seek worthier lovers that his family would accept. Not some tainted wretch like me.
Tires screech as I take the next turn recklessly fast, nearly clipping the curb.Damn it! Get it together!Brooding over might-have-beens changes nothing. I made my choice of leaving Raphael behind, and now dealing with Dominique Uphir becomes sole priority before I shatter completely.
I never expected him to reach out so soon. But reach out, he did. With that text alone, reality came crashing in, reminding me who I truly am and why I’m here in the city.
Gradually, the posh downtown high-rises give way to dingier warehouses and factories. I creep along abandoned streets searching for the meeting coordinates Uphir indicated, wary of who or what else lurks in this creepy district.
At last, I spot the grimy sign for Paper Street Manufacturing hanging crookedly over a gated entrance. I drive through the rusty chainlink, and the dark loading docks loom ahead of me like a gaping dragon’s mouth. My headlights reveal shifting shadows as I idle in my car.
My instincts scream to throw this vehicle in reverse and tear back to the safety of Raphael’s condo, into his sheltering arms. Fear sinks icy claws down my neck that this cloak-and-dagger scene with Uphir may prove my final ruin. If I’m wrong about this, surely even six feet under, Uncle Luci will find new ways to torment my pathetic soul for dragging his name through the mud.
Through sheer stubbornness, I strangle the frenzied thoughts, shoving open the car door on protesting hinges instead. The urgent answers Uphir dangles before me override any irrational fears inspired by childhood horror tales. Lucifer’s reputation and assets are at stake if someone keeps embezzling from the DeLux’s locked reserves. I swore to solve this financial farce, and come hellhound or high water, I mean to finish this tonight.
My heels click an erratic beat across the cracked concrete, loud as gunshots in the oppressive silence. Pieces of litter scrape past in a biting wind, carrying whispers of spectral voices just out of sight. I strain every sense, searching the murky corners for threats, pulse thrumming wildly beneath my thin silk dress.
Finally, the weak glow of my phone’s screen offers an anchored point of light in the gloom. Glancing between it and indistinct building numbers, I creep down a long featureless hall in search of the meeting coordinates. But each nondescript door I pass remains sealed tight, with no response to my tentative knocks.
Unease prickles my skin like the legs of too many spiders. This feels all wrong—why summon me urgently just to ignore my arrival? Has Dominique set some elaborate trap to punish my snooping into his business? Perhaps brazening my way uninvited into the offices of the mysterious gangster would have been a better plan...
Muffled cursing from my left interrupts my spiraling doubts. I freeze, throat seizing in sudden dread. But the persistent scuffling noises sound more irritable than violent. Edging closer beneath a flickering overhead bulb, I peer into the cracked opening of a side door left conspicuously ajar.
From this angle, only vague shapes are visible through the narrow gap. Steeling myself, I curl cautious fingers around the cold metal to widen it by incremental degrees so as not to draw attention. More of the cramped room comes into view, mostly occupied by hulking pipes and electrical boxes in questionable repair.
There—a figure paces the grimy concrete in a crisp double-breasted suit so pristine it nearly glows in the gloom. Even from behind, I recognize Italian leather shoes shiny as onyx, silvered hair impeccably neat. My pulse leaps, body swaying forward instinctively before I catch myself.
So Dominique does lurk here after all.Relief wars with simmering outrage that he deigned to keep me wandering like an idiot. Sharpening a glare for the strange Coldplay ringtone chirping from my purse, I choose that moment to fling open the balky door with a thunderous creak. Time for answers from the elusive crime lord.
Uphir whips around, mouth already open to rip into whoever interrupted his call. But his smooth baritone halts awkwardly mid-complaint as he registers me hovering on the threshold. “Oh! I... didn’t hear you arrive, miss. Apologies.”
Despite my frazzled nerves and general vexation with tonight’s events, I can’t help but blink dumbly at the figure revealed fully from the shadows. Dominique Uphir is no late-middle-aged gangster cliche. He stands tall and striking, his gunmetal eyes dominating his aquiline features that any sculptor would beg to immortalize. His strong brow and chiseled jaw exude a confidence earned from success, not false bravado. A silver-streaked wave of chestnut hair falls across his forehead, but his unwavering gaze remains fixed on mine.
A strange hooking sensation stirs low in my belly and jolts me from my rude staring. I clench my jaw and snap my eyes back to Uphir’s, trying unsuccessfully to calm my hammering heart.
Oblivious to my turmoil, Uphir clears his throat politely, gesturing to a rickety folding chair. “Please, have a seat Miss... Forgive me, I don’t believe I caught your name previously?”
I banish my inner conflict, summoning haughty annoyance to arm myself facing this adversary. Perching gingerly on the seat across from Uphir, I smooth my features to cool marble. “Helena Morningstar, consultant in management.” Of course, he already knew my name. I left it in my voice message. This is just one of those power moves men like him usually rely on.
One sharp brow quirks upward. “Consultant? For what organization, exactly?”
“My own. I operate independently.” Tilting my chin defiantly, I meet his searching stare. “And I have pressing questions for Dominique Uphir, who I’ve had the hardest time tracking down. Are you him?”
My sharp demand seems to amuse more than intimidate him. Uphir tips back leisurely in his folding chair as if it were a throne, studying me with new interest. “I am. And I likewise have questions for this mysterious consultant who leaves cryptic messages and then appears unannounced, making demands.” He taps a contemplative finger to his lips. “You have me at somewhat a disadvantage here, Ms. Morningstar.”
I bristle at his smooth words undermining my position. “If anyone is at a disadvantage, it’s me.” Leaning forward intently, I fold my arms. “Why such secrecy, Mr. Uphir? If you have nothing to hide regarding certain company finances, why not speak openly as law and basic ethics require?”
Uphir blinks, taken aback for the first time tonight. “You lost me, Miss. What finances are these?”
A humorless laugh escapes me before I can restrain it. Is he really feigning ignorance? I expected slippery denial or counter accusations from a proven criminal. But this guileless act may prove the most challenging to navigate.
Smoothing my expression to cool politeness, I elaborate crisply, “The DeLux Café. As acting manager these past weeks, I found substantial accounting discrepancies—fellows covering illicit cash withdrawals from locked reserves. Quite aggressively too.” I raise my phone, the damning photo glowing between us. “Care to explain?”
Silence swells, broken only by an overhead pipe sputtering. Uphir studies me, grey eyes calculating. Then he sighs, leaning back and loosening his slate tie with one hand. “Well, now. It seems this conversation requires more trust if we intend to make any progress.”
Standing abruptly, he strides for a dilapidated mini-fridge, producing two bottles of water. The plastic crackles loudly as he twists off each cap before returning to offer me one. I accept reluctantly. Nothing tonight makes much sense, but I know better than to accept open food or drink from those involved with the DeLux’s shady underground.
Uphir smiles, sensing my suspicion. “It’s only water. You’re safe with me. Now...” Settling once more, he meets my gaze squarely. “Let us start from the beginning.”
