Page 75 of The Voicemail

Bianchi’s expression barely changes, but his attention sharpens. “Where?”

“Somewhere only I can access.”

The lie sounds steadier than I feel.

Bianchi steps closer. “That would be difficult, considering you didn’t know what it was.”

“I knew it was important. Why else would it arrive in a shipping crate meant for a multimillion-dollar piece of art?”

Bianchi gives me a slow smile, all teeth, like a predator that’s already decided how this ends. “You’re smarter than I was told.”

“By whom?”

His smile widens. “Does it matter?”

Yes.

It matters very much.

Someone told him about me. Someone told him enough to send Tomaso. Someone told him enough to find Maya. Someone told him enough to grab me half a block from Alex’s building.

I try a different tactic.

“I’ll give you the file if you let Maya go.”

Tomaso steps forward. “You’re in no position to negotiate.”

“Yet here I am. Negotiating.”

His eyebrows lift.

My whole body is shaking, but my voice holds firm.

“You want the file. I want proof that Maya is alive. Not a photo. Not a message. I want to see her.”

Bianchi crouches in front of me.

“Russo will come for you.”

“What’s that got to do with Maya?”

“If he comes before I have my file, your friend becomes a problem I no longer need to manage.”

My throat tightens. I force myself not to react.

“He won’t find me that fast.”

Bianchi’s eyes move over my face.

“You have no idea what kind of man you’ve been sleeping next to.”

Tomaso’s expression twists with jealousy. If I play my cards just right, it might be useful for me later.

“Neither do you,” I say.

Bianchi’s smile fades.

He stands and adjusts his cuff. “Put her in the office.”