Page 64 of His Captive
“Mr. Morandi, it’s good to see you,” she says, clicking her pen. “I’ve made all the arrangements you asked for, and I’ll send the documents. They just need your signature. I’ll get them notarized, like we discussed, without you having to be present.”
“Tear them up,” I snap. “All the financial documents. We’re starting over.”
“Uh, you’re serious?” she asks, her eyes widening in surprise.
“Yes,” I snarl. “I’m about to email you something. This is what you need to do. Follow my instructions exactly how I outlined them.”
One thing my family is good at is laundering money. It doesn’t matter how much cash you have in a warehouse or vault if you can’t spend it. We do our laundering within the confines of the law, but bend it as needed. A business has a great year—no big deal, if there are receipts to back it up. Forging them is easy, and if you spread them out across enough businesses, it won’t get the attention of the feds.
I lean back, sip my whiskey, and enjoy a few flavorful puffs of the Toscano I got from Theo. Jillian reviews the email, and I see her tilt her head as she takes it all in. It’s not a difficult thing for her to do, but there are several steps to make sure everything is run through the shell companies that will ensure nobody knows where my fortune went.
“One beneficiary?” Jillian questions. “The trust is for Eleanor Fuller—from Pine Grove?”
“That is correct,” I confirm. “It’ll take a couple of months for the money to go through all the right channels, but once it does, I want you to send her the paperwork. Make sure I didn’t miss anything, but it should be untraceable.”
“Nobody could trace this,” Jillian replies. “I won’t even be able to trace it once it leaves the offshore accounts.”
“Perfect.” I nod and exhale sharply. “And like we agreed, there’s enough money to set you up for the rest of your life and send all three of your kids to college.”
“Thank you, Mr. Morandi,” she sighs. “You don’t know what this means. Ever since I got disbarred… I…”
“I know, but you’ve got your law license back now, just like I promised,” I say. “If you choose to keep practicing, you can. If not, you’ve got enough to start over somewhere else.”
We say our goodbyes and I end the call.
Lea outright refused my money, but I don’t like taking no for an answer. I’ve already hurt her. I gave in, despite knowing how wrong it was, and my death will leave a wound. Money won’t mend her broken heart, but she’ll be taken care of. I’ll rest easier in whatever grave they stick me in knowing that.
I doubt my family would ever try to trace my money, but this will ensure the trail never leads them to Lea. I set it up so that it looks like an inheritance meant for her grandmother that she never knew about. Lea’s smart enough to figure it out, but it won’t matter if she does. I’ll be gone by then.
I take a few minutes to enjoy my whiskey and cigar before I make my next call. I planned to spread this out while I was here, but I’ve been preoccupied. The arrangements still have to be made. I’ve accumulated a few debts over the years and most of them aren’t financial. I’m settling them all before I take my last breath.
Call after call. Arrangement after arrangement. The sum of my life, simmered down to favors, debts, and things I barely give a fuck about. It would be easier if I didn’t know it was coming. If the hitman hadn’t decided to see if he could cut a better deal with the victim than the one who paid for the hit.
But it’s better this way. I’ll leave the world with a clean slate. I didn’t even get to scream my way into the world with one of those. I’m Salvatore Morandi’s firstborn son. Expectations werelaid out before I drew my first breath, and I’m going to die before I take my place at the head of the table, like my birth destined me to do.
“Fuck you, Emilio,” I sigh, downing what is left of my whiskey and stubbing out my cigar. “I hope it’s worth it.”
With business concluded, my thoughts return to Lea. She’s waiting for me in my penthouse suite. I could claim her again—spend the entire night with her tight pussy begging for more. But I’m doing irreparable harm. Deep down, I knew what would happen, if I made her mine, even for one night. It’s harder to let go when you’ve got something to hold onto. I should have never let her grasp onto me.
But what’s done is done.
I don’t want to be alone tonight.
After signing the paperwork and faxing it to Jillian, I meet Theo for dinner, drinks, stories, and cigars. It’s not something I want to do, but keeping up appearances is important. Especially now. Lea has become a part of those appearances. To anyone who is watching, I’m having the time of my life. The sad part is that it’s true, except I’ve got one foot in the grave while I try to let go of the girl who has brought me back to life.
When I get to the elevator, I’m drunk enough to feel it. Drunk enough to have a slight stagger to my step. I swipe my keycard, drop it, and mutter obscenities as I retrieve it from the floor. Then I stumble off the elevator, open my door, and peer into the darkness.
“Lea?” I call out, feeling a twinge of concern. “Are you here?”
My concern leads me to Lea’s bedroom first. Her bed is empty, but her bags are still there. I turn back to the main part of the suite and turn on the lights. The breakfast I sent up is mostly untouched, but it looks like she had a plate.
“Lea?” I call out again, walking down the hall and pushing my bedroom door open. She’s in my bed, but the lights are out, and the covers are pulled tight around her. “There you are. Are you sleeping?”
“No,” she whispers.
“Did you hear me calling for you?” I walk closer to the bed.
“I knew you’d find me eventually,” she mumbles, pulling the covers tighter.
