Page 58 of Degrees of Power
You appeared a little ashen at last evening’s festivities. Perhaps a little too much to drink or were you thinking about something in particular? Perhaps the special night we shared? I sincerely hope that is the case and if so that you continue to dream about that every night until I can repay you for all the joy you have brought me and we can be together again. Until then your secret about Torzial is safe with me.
Yours always, Ty
I am cold, fear and anxiety for my friend grips me and sends goosebumps down my spine. I read it again, slowly this time, absorbing the evil malice of its intent and physically shiver. I send it to myself, unsure at this point what to do with it, uncertain if deleting it from her email account will impact evidence if needed later. I leave it on her email praying that she doesn’t see it until I can talk to Chase.
I try to refocus and flip to the next email when Gaby’s voice comes over the intercom. “I was waiting for you to come for lunch. Shall I bring you a chicken salad croissant?” she asks.
“I’m so sorry. I was absorbed in work and didn’t realize it was so late. I can come out and get my own sandwich,” I say.
“Nonsense, I’ll bring it in shortly,” she says over the speaker.
I am just contemplating this when the sound of my phone alerts me to an incoming message.
Message:Missed lunch, broken rules, so many possibilities.
Reply:Was absorbed in what I was doing. Eating shortly.
My response goes unanswered and for a moment my mind conjures up all kinds of possibilities for the night.
I am getting near to the end of the Torzial emails when I see an email from my dad.
Dear Ms. Torzial,
The Vegas properties we discussed last week are in the process of being purchased. Once complete, we would like to move forward with the development of four of the largest and most impressive casinos and hotels Vegas has ever seen. Please contact my assistant at your earliest convenience.
Thanks,
Carlos Larussio
I pull up Google Maps and hone in on the location of the future Prestian Corp towers in Vegas and that of the Larussio properties named in the attached pending sales agreement. Neighbors, literally adjacent properties in the most sought after block on the strip. I shake my head, letting the information that my father and Chase have literally purchased a block of land in the most prestigious part of the strip sink in, along with the complexity of the agreements and demolition requirements of the existing properties.
I look up as Gaby walks in with a small tray. “Just a light lunch,” she tuts as she lays the plate of fruit, chicken salad croissant, and a glass of water on the table.
A couple hours later, almost to the end of the documents my father has sent, I am duly impressed with the proposal laid out for the Larussio investments in Vegas. I Google Larussio and am in awe of the information that comes up. I read on, fascinated by the family history, which can be traced back hundreds of years in Sicily and now creates a mark of its own in New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, Vegas and Los Angeles. I glance up at the clock on the wall and grab my cell as the swoosh of a text captures my attention.
Message:Almost finished?
Reply:Not quite. The Larussio history has my interest.
Message:You were googling your family?
Reply:Yeah, it’s interesting.
I wait for a reply, but there is none, only the dead silence of the phone in front of me until finally a text pops up.
Message:Meet me in my study. Your dad will be connecting shortly.
I hastily close my laptop and lay it on the side table, shimmy out of the blanket that has been covering me most of the afternoon, and take off toward his study.
“She won’t be going within a thousand feet of him in this life if I have my say,” Chase says, his eyes locked on me as I enter.
“I’m not asking her to be anywhere near Alfreita, only to answer questions if they are asked in the future,” my father says.
“What does that mean exactly?” I say, closing the door behind me, sizing up the conversation, my father’s voice all of a sudden quiet and Chase ready to do battle if needed.
“Katarina,” Chase says, taking my hand, leading me to the loveseat that sits adjacent to the mahogany desk in the office. I look away, out at the view, taking comfort in the heavy snow accumulating in between the branches of the pines, creating a natural privacy fence on this side of the home.
“I need to know what’s happening,” I say, turning back toward my husband and the speakerphone that has gone silent.
