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I clench my jaw. “I know. Which is why Marcus Winston can’t walk away from this.”
I run a rough palm across my face. “There’s no way that infidel is getting his hands on my most profitable hotel chain. I’d have to be dead first.”
Before Cortez can come up with a reply, his phone vibrates on the desk. He checks the screen, then answers, putting the call on speaker.
“This is Stella Winston. I want to speak with Elio Donatelli.”
My spine stiffens. Could that be Marcus Winston’s wife?
“What do you want?” My tone is as menacing as it can get.
There’s a small pause, then sniffing before she speaks. “I can erase every existing copy of the footage from that night. And I’ll send you the proof.”
My eyes exchange a quick glance with Cortez. “Don’t fool around, lady. Your husband would have your head on a platter if he finds out.”
She chuckles lightly. “Don’t be mistaken, Donatelli. I’m not offering to help you. I’m doing this because I need you to help me.”
My brow juts up in inquiry. Cortez lifts his shoulders in a shrug.
“What do you want?”
“For you to kill my husband.”
The room goes still. I stare at the phone, waiting for her to crack, to retract her statement and tell me this is a test or a bluff, but she doesn’t.
“Where’s he at the moment?” Once again, my voice comes out in a harsh bark.
“He left for a meeting. Won’t be back for a while.”
My fingers reach to trail the shaggy feel of my disarranged hair. This changes things, but maybe not in a bad way. “Meet me outside the La Tavola restaurant in thirty minutes.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then, an “okay” and the line disconnects.
Cortez watches me, wide-eyed. “Are you sure about this?”
Grabbing my coat from the headrest of my chair behind me, I respond, “I guess we’ll find out.”
As I walk out, I turn back to Cortez, asking him, “By the way, how’s your girl doing?”
I see the surprise on his face and then the softening of the look in his eyes. “Resting after everything. I never said thank you, brother, for helping me get her back.”
“You’re my family, Cortez. Anyone who comes after you and your family will meet a painful end.” With that, I leave to go handle our fucking little ‘Winston’ problem.
***
She’s petite for someone who’s planning a murder.
Stella Winston walks up to my white Mercedes, sunglasses shielding her eyes, red hair packed into a high ponytail. Fromthe baggy jeans and matching jacket she has on, with those stiletto sandals, I can tell she’s young but definitely not naïve.
She knocks on my car window as I ordered her to, glancing over her shoulder as if expecting to run into Marcus in this kind of place.
The door lock clicks open, and she eases herself into the car, face fixed forward.
“How do I know this isn’t another of Marcus’s plans to fuck me over?” My hands are on the steering wheel, all my senses alert in case she tries to pull a stunt.
“Marcus wouldn’t expose you to his trophy wife, at least not when he’s threatening to ruin your entire career.”
She’s right, but I don’t need her to know that.