Chapter 4 - ARE YOU JEALOUS?
Varga’s club occupied the top two floors of a converted bank in Midtown.
Naomi hated it immediately.
Too much velvet.
Too many mirrors.
Too many men who believed a pocket square was evidence of character.
Roman got them through the private entrance without speaking to the doorman.
Leo had been ordered to stay at Naomi’s apartment.
He had replied that she was not his mother.
She had replied with a look.
He stayed.
The elevator opened into a private gaming room.
Naomi heard Dominic before she saw him.
Not shouting.
Worse.
“You sent someone to Seattle.”
Varga sat at a green felt table, swirling amber liquor.
Dominic stood across from him.
Three Valente men occupied one wall.
Four Varga men occupied another.
Everyone had the tense posture of people deciding whether expensive carpet was worth bleeding on.
Varga smiled.
“I sent nobody.”
“You met Naomi.”
“She accepted an invitation.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“She is not part of this.”
“Interesting.”
“Explain.”
“You launder six million dollars through a port office and call your accountant not part of this.”
Naomi stepped into the room.
“Technically I called myself a compliance consultant.”
Every head turned.
Dominic’s face changed instantly.
“What are you doing here?”
“Preventing a homicide from ruining my evening.”
“Roman.”
Roman lifted both hands.
“She threatened to take a cab.”
Dominic looked as if this explained everything and improved nothing.
Varga smiled.
“Naomi.”
She ignored him.
“Dominic, leave.”
“No.”
“Wonderful. We’re both using complete sentences.”
He walked toward her.
“Your apartment is unsecured.”
“Roman’s people are there.”
“That is not the point.”
“The point is you came here because someone sent you a photograph.”
His eyes sharpened.
The room became interested.
Naomi smiled without humor.
“Are you jealous?”
A few men actually stopped breathing.
Varga leaned back, delighted.
Dominic stood six feet away.
“No.”
She lifted an eyebrow.
He continued.
“I told you. Jealousy is fear that another man can take something that belongs to you.”
Silence.
“You don’t belong to me.”
Varga’s smile faded slightly.
Dominic’s gaze held Naomi’s.
“And if you walked out that door with him because you wanted him, I would hate it. I would hate him. I might hate every chair in this room for having witnessed it.”
Roman looked at the ceiling.
Dominic did not blink.
“But I would not stop you.”
Naomi forgot the speech she had prepared.
Dominic’s voice dropped.
“What I am is angry.”
“With me?”
“With myself.”
That surprised the room even more.
“Because I built a life where the only language I know for caring is control. And every time I use it on you, I make Varga’s argument for him.”
Varga set down his glass.
“Do not drag me into your therapy session.”
Naomi almost laughed.
Dominic finally looked at him.
“You wanted to know what makes her valuable?”
Varga shrugged.
“I know.”
“No.”
Dominic’s expression became cold again.
“You know what she can do with numbers. You do not know the difference between value and use.”
He turned back to Naomi.
“She does.”
Naomi’s throat tightened.
Nobody in the room spoke.
Then Varga began clapping slowly.
“Beautiful.”
Dominic’s face went blank.
Varga smiled.
“Now should we discuss the dead investigator?”
Naomi froze.
“You know Daniel Ross.”
“Of course.”
“Who’s using his name?”
Varga’s expression changed.
For the first time, he looked genuinely concerned.
“I assumed Valente was.”
Dominic said, “Why?”
“Ross investigated your father.”
“I know that now.”
“He also investigated mine.”
The room shifted.
Varga took out a phone and slid it across the felt.
On the screen was an old scanned memorandum.
Daniel Ross had been building a case around municipal corruption involving three organizations.
Valente.
Varga.
Greco.
Naomi read the last name twice.
“Salvatore Greco.”
Dominic’s former mentor.
The man Roman had mentioned.
Varga said, “Greco was the financial bridge. Your father and mine fought over territory. Greco made money from both.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“He retired.”
“Men like Salvatore retire from work, not appetite.”
“Where is he?”
“Connecticut. Estate outside Greenwich.”
Naomi looked at Roman.
“Celeste Vale worked for him?”
Roman nodded reluctantly.
“She was his junior counsel before Dominic hired her.”
Varga’s eyes narrowed.
“Celeste?”
Naomi caught it.
“You didn’t know.”
“No.”
Dominic said, “What?”
Varga leaned back.
“Ross had a fiancée.”
Nobody spoke.
Varga looked at Naomi.
“Celeste Vale.”
The name landed like glass breaking.
Dominic turned to Roman.
“Verify.”
Roman was already on his phone.
Naomi’s mind accelerated.
Celeste knew Dominic’s systems.
Naomi’s schedule.
The debt structure.
Old Valente records.
Daniel Ross’s case.
And if she believed Dominic’s father had killed the man she loved…
“She doesn’t want money,” Naomi said.
Dominic looked at her.
“No.”
“She wants the architecture exposed.”
“Or destroyed.”
Varga nodded.
“Possibly both.”
Naomi thought of the anonymous messages.
Auditioning.
The drive.
Someone close to you tells me things.
“Celeste knows about my insurance copies.”
Dominic’s face changed.
“What insurance copies?”
Naomi closed her eyes.
Of course.
“You made a secret backup,” he said.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“Where?”
She stared.
He stopped himself.
That mattered.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
Varga laughed.
“Growth.”
Dominic’s head turned.
Varga stopped laughing.
Naomi said, “Daniel wanted the drive tomorrow.”
Varga’s eyebrows rose.
“Daniel?”
“The man using Ross’s name.”
Dominic’s expression hardened.
“Absolutely not.”
Naomi looked at him.
He exhaled.
“Sorry. Reflex.”
Roman returned.
“She was engaged to him.”
Silence.
“Celeste Vale and Daniel Ross. Six months before he died.”
Dominic closed his eyes briefly.
He had trusted Celeste.
More than trusted.
She handled his legal defense, legitimate companies, estate documents.
Naomi watched betrayal settle into him.
It looked quieter than rage.
Varga said, “There’s something else.”
Dominic opened his eyes.
“Ross made one final evidence transfer the day before his death.”
“To whom?”
“Nobody knows.”
Varga looked at Naomi.
“But the chain-of-custody code begins NC.”
Naomi frowned.
“My initials.”
“You were twenty-one.”
“I was in college.”
“Exactly.”
Dominic became still.
“Naomi Claire Callahan.”
She looked at him.
“How do you know my middle name?”
“Background file.”
“Of course.”
Varga smiled.
“Ross had a younger sister.”
Naomi stared.
“No.”
“Half sister. Different fathers. Mother’s surname was Callahan.”
Her heartbeat went loud.
“My mother had no brothers.”
“Daniel Ross wasn’t her brother.”
Varga’s voice softened.
“He was yours.”
The room disappeared.
Naomi sat down.
“No.”
“My father died when I was six.”
“Your father was Michael Callahan.”
“Yes.”
“Your mother had Daniel before she married him.”
“No.”
The word was smaller.
Dominic moved toward her.
Stopped before touching.
Naomi looked up.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
She believed him.
That almost hurt more.
Varga continued.
“Ross used your initials because he intended to leave evidence to you if anything happened.”
“I was a college student.”
“You were studying accounting.”
Naomi remembered her mother’s death.
A box of documents she had never opened.
A storage unit she had emptied after the funeral.
Old tax returns.
College photos.
One sealed envelope with no return address.
She had thrown it into a desk drawer and forgotten it.
Until now.
“Oh God.”
Dominic crouched in front of her.
“What?”
“I have something.”
“What?”
“An envelope from my mother’s things.”
“Where?”
“My apartment.”
His face hardened.
“Then we go.”
Dominic remained crouched in front of Naomi for one more second.
“Do you want to leave now?”
The question startled her.
Not go.
Not we’re leaving.
Do you want.
Naomi nodded.
“Yes.”
Dominic stood.
Varga watched the exchange with open fascination.
“This is extraordinary.”
Naomi looked at him. “What?”
“He’s learning manners.”
Dominic ignored him.
Naomi did not.
“You should try it.”
“I have impeccable manners.”
“You arranged a secret dinner to recruit another man’s accountant.”
“You weren’t his accountant at dinner.”
“I was when you sent the invitation.”
“Technicality.”
Naomi shook her head.
The absurdity helped.
For ten minutes, she had been trying to absorb the possibility that a dead investigator was her brother, that her mother had hidden an entire child from her second family, and that Dominic had once hired the dead man’s fiancée partly because guilt had been steering him long before Naomi knew guilt existed.
The room suddenly felt too small.
She walked to the windows.
New York glittered below.
Millions of people crossing streets, ordering dinner, missing trains, arguing over rent.
Ordinary lives.
She wondered how many families were built around sealed envelopes nobody had opened.
Dominic stopped several feet behind her.
“Naomi.”
She turned.
“If that envelope says my mother knew your father killed Daniel…”
His face tightened.
“I don’t know what it says.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
He waited.
She continued.
“If it proves your family destroyed mine before you ever met me, what happens?”
Dominic looked at her for a long time.
“Whatever you decide happens between us.”
Not whatever is best.
Not whatever I can fix.
Whatever you decide.
Naomi swallowed.
“And the evidence?”
“We turn it over.”
“To whom?”
“Someone outside both our organizations.”
Varga made a wounded sound.
“I’m still in the room.”
Naomi almost smiled.
Dominic did not.
“You asked what changed,” he said quietly.
“When?”
“In the elevator.”
Naomi remembered.
“And?”
“You.”
Her expression hardened.
He corrected himself immediately.
“Not because you fixed me.”
Better.
“Because every time you refused to let me call control protection, I had to hear how it sounded.”
Naomi looked at him.
“You’re still dangerous.”
“I know.”
“You’re still a criminal.”
“Yes.”
“You still make terrible decisions.”
“Frequently.”
Varga said, “Can confirm.”
Dominic turned his head.
Varga lifted both hands.
Naomi breathed out slowly.
Hope was still terrifying.
But terror did not automatically mean wrong.
She picked up her coat.
“Let’s go.”
Varga stood.
“So do I.”
Dominic looked at him.
“No.”
“This involves Ross.”
“No.”
Varga smiled.
“Jealous?”
Dominic’s expression did not change.
“No.”
He looked at Naomi.
“She decides.”
Every man in the room went silent again.
Naomi stared at Dominic.
It was such a small sentence.
It cost him more than anyone there understood.
She stood.
“Varga stays.”
He nodded.
No argument.
No punishment.
No command.
May you like
For the first time since she had met Dominic Valente, Naomi walked toward danger beside him because he had not tried to make the choice for her.
That frightened her more than jealousy ever could.
