“Because when I decide to have you”—I let the pause stretch, watch the flush climb her neck—“I will.”
“That’s not a fantasy, Miss Mendez. That’s patience.” I pick up my wine glass. “I’ve killed men for less than what you just said to me. Remember that next time you want to test how far you can push.”
“Is that supposed to scare me?”
“It’s supposed to remind you where you are.” I glance toward the entrance. The Moreno delegation is arriving—I can see Victor Senior’s bodyguards scanning the room. “And who you’re sitting across from.”
She follows my gaze. Sees the men in expensive suits filing through the door.
“The Morenos,” I say, my voice shifting back to business. “They’ll want a meeting after dinner. When they come to this table, you do your job.”
“Which is?”
“Listen. Watch. Remember every word those assholes say.” I set down my glass. “Think you can manage that? Or do you need another reminder about your position here?”
Her jaw tightens. But she nods.
“Good.”
The Moreno delegation make their way across the restaurant. I watch them approach—Victor Sr. heading to his reserved table, his son changing course when he spots us.
Beside me, Bea straightens in her chair. Composure back in place. Pulse still jumping at her throat.
Victor Moreno Jr. reaches our table with that easy smile I’ve never trusted.
“D’Amico.” He offers his hand. “Lovely evening.”
I take it. Brief and firm. “Victor.”
“And even better company.” His attention moves to Bea, lingering just long enough to make a point. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Victor Moreno.”
“Bea Mendez.”
He takes her hand, holds it a second longer than necessary. “Bea. Beautiful name.” His eyes move over her—the dress, the hair, the careful composure. “Are you in the legal field as well?”
“She works for me,” I say.
“As...?”
“His assistant,” Bea answers, before I can.
“Assistant.” Victor repeats. “Interesting. D’Amico doesn’t usually bring his assistants to these events.” He glances at me, then back at her. “You must be exceptional.”
“She’s competent.”
“High praise, coming from you.” Victor’s smile doesn’t waver. “Well, Miss Mendez, if you ever get tired of D’Amico’s... intensity, my family’s firm is always looking for talent. We’re more relaxed about hierarchy. Less formal.”
“She’s not interested.”
“Not interested in the position?” He tilts his head, feigning confusion. “Or not permitted to be interested? Unless there’s a more personal reason keeping her here. In which case, I apologize—I didn’t realize your company had policies against that sort of thing.”
He frames it as a question without asking one. Plausible deniability wrapped in silk.
“Raffaele and I are old friends,” Victor continues. “We go back years. And any friend of his is welcome in my circle.” He pulls a card from his jacket pocket, sets it on the table in front of her. “My personal chauffeur is outside. After the event, if you’d like a ride home, he’s at your disposal. Consider it a gesture of goodwill.”
I don’t move.
I’ve already given him more than I should.
