Silent Whisper (5 page)

Apparently I had been dismissed.

I grabbed my shoulder bag and snatched the twenty-dollar bill from Dominic’s outstretched hand, not even bothering to look at him as I left the office, letting the door slam shut behind me.

I had taken several steps from the building when I stopped in my tracks hearing Dominic’s raised voice.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing coming here without my being here? You know the drill with how I run my businesses.”

I’d never heard what he sounded like when he was angry. It was kind of scary at the moment.

“Then perhaps from now on, you’ll take me seriously when I say that I need to see you, Nick. Hey, it was Vinnie who told me that you’d be here checking up on your not-so-secret pastime. Calm down, we need to talk business.”

Marco’s voice had been clear, calm and decisive. He had never raised it as if in anger the way that Dominic had.

I wasn’t about to take another step until I heard more about whatever business Marco had come to discuss.

“I thought I had made myself clear after the last shipment, Marco, that we wouldn’t be doing business any more. I don’t deal with stepped-on China White - it’s bad for business.”

“Nicky, Nicky—hold on, my friend. Did you think I knew before you took possession of those units what had happened? C’mon, we’ve been doing business long enough. You should know by now I don’t broker like that. I act in good faith at all times. It was a mix-up. It happens. Hey, we’re family, right?”

Dominic’s voice had a steel-edge to it now. “Not to me it doesn’t, family or not. I got burnt on that, Marco, and I’d be a fool to give you an opportunity to burn me twice, now wouldn’t I?”

“Hey, the person responsible for that little mix-up has been, as they say, properly handled. Clean slate here, okay? And what if your brothers don’t feel the same way as you, huh? What if Vinnie and Little Sal are cool with what I’ve got coming across the border and want some of the action? We’re talking upwards of ten million on the street. What do you say to that?”

There was a moment of silence.

“I’d say that’s up to them. They don’t need my approval if they’re willing to risk the family name like that. You know whom they answer to and it’s not me. Now I think we’re done here, Marco.”

“Whatever you say, Nick,” Marco replied, his tone bearing a hint of exasperation.

I heard the sound of him getting to his feet, so I hurriedly made fast tracks through the parking lot before that door opened and they both realized that I’d been eavesdropping.

China white. Was that heroin? Maybe cocaine? I needed to find out exactly what Marco was dealing in with Vinnie and Little Sal. Maybe it would be an opportunity for me to exact a bit of revenge on the family business. It might be the perfect opportunity since Dominic had passed on the deal.

Yeah, I admit it. As much as I wanted to hurt the Castellano family, if I could do it without sending Dominic to prison, that was my preference. I wasn’t to the point yet that saving Dominic was more important than exacting my revenge, but I’m not gonna lie, I was getting close.

I knew that if it came down to it, and there was no other way, that I would have to be willing to take Dominic down with the rest of them. I mean I knew that was the reality of it. I just wasn’t sure anymore if I could be that person.

When I returned from the deli, the only car in the lot other than mine was Dominic’s black Mercedes. Marco Trevani’s dark blue Lincoln was gone, which was really no surprise. But I still wondered exactly why Dominic had decided to come out to the storage units without letting me know. Usually he would call ahead, or let me know in the morning on those nights he stayed over that he’d be stopping in. After all, he had the key to the safe—another puzzling tidbit.

Maybe he
was
checking up on me.

He was sitting in the chair at my desk, his legs propped up on the top of it when I came into the office. He was glancing through a stack of drawings that I’d been doodling around with over the past couple of weeks during my spare time, which was somewhere in the neighborhood of six hours per day.

I tossed the bag of sandwiches onto my desk, and slapped his change from the twenty down right next to it. He looked up at me, his eyes dancing with amusement.

“So, I see you have some hidden talents, Karlie. Why have you kept your flair for fashion design in the closet?” he asked, smiling. “Oh, and pardon the pun.”

“Are you poking fun at me?” I asked, giving him an eye roll.

He was rooting through the deli bag. “Did you remember to get my Orangina?” he asked.

I pulled two bottles of Orangina from my shoulder bag, setting them on my desk.

“Fantastic,” he said, taking one of them into his large hands and twisting the top off. “No, not at all sweetheart,” he answered, glancing back down at the evening gown I’d designed with a flashy feather-boa neckline. “Actually, I think they’re damn good. I’m just surprised that you’ve never mentioned your flair for creativity to me before now.”

“I didn’t mention it now,” I deadpanned. “You just happened to be snooping, that’s all.”

I un-wrapped my sandwich and took a bite.

“Are you upset for some reason?” He was eyeing me now with a hint of concern. My happiness for whatever reason seemed to be paramount to him.

“Well, why did you banish me from the office earlier? Did I do something wrong?”

His face darkened just a bit, before he shook his head, dropping his sandwich back onto the waxed paper. “No baby,” he replied, “I wasn’t angry with you at all. I just don’t trust Marco. I don’t want him near you.”

“He said he came here to meet you,” I explained. “Isn’t he a business associate of yours?”

“Not really,” he replied tersely. “And you’re to let me know if he ever comes back around here, do you understand?”

I nodded. It was apparent that Marco was one of Dominic’s hot buttons, and maybe for reasons other than the China White he had mentioned in the conversation that I’d overheard earlier.

“Let’s not talk about him, Tesoro. I came here because I have something for you in my trunk.”

I felt my face light up. “A present?” I asked.

“Sort of,” he replied. “I think you’ll like it and hopefully, you’ll put it to good use here.”

We finished lunch and then he went out to his car. He returned carrying a large cardboard box that was marked “Compaq Portable II.”

“Is that a computer?” I asked, arching a brow. “For me?”

“The answers are yes and yes,” he replied, setting it on top of my desk. “But there’s more to come.”

And he wasn’t kidding. He brought in a box that contained a dot matrix printer, computer stand and a rolling chair, as well as printer paper, floppy disks, and loadable software for this newest leap in technology.

By the time we’d unpacked everything and set it up per the printed directions, it was mid-afternoon.

“There’s one problem,” I said, my hands resting on my hips.

“What is that my love?” he asked, looking up from where he had assembled the computer stand and was plugging everything in to a power strip.

“I don’t know how to use one of these things,” I stated matter-of-factly.

“Not a problem,” he said with a shrug. “Your instructor will be here tomorrow morning bright and early to start your training.”

“Okay, fine. But one question—what am I supposed to do with it once I’m trained?”

He smiled affectionately. “You will take on more work. You’re constantly complaining about how little you have to do here, so I’m fixing that. You will start handling some of the bookkeeping on my business deals. Happy?”

“Delighted,” I replied, returning the smile. “Thank you, Dominic.” And I felt that warm tingling in my belly that I tried like hell to deny, but so far, had been unsuccessful at doing.

“Anything for you, love,” he said. “And now that I know you’ve been hiding raw talent from me, maybe we can see about getting some software on this machine to help you with your designs.”

I gave him a small laugh, shaking my head. “I just sketch stuff when I’m bored, that’s all. I mean, now that I’ll have real work to do that’ll keep me busy, there won’t be a need for me to waste my time doodling.”

“Nonsense,” he said, grabbing his suit jacket from the back of the chair. “Talent is God-given. To
not
use it is a waste. Remember that. I’ll see you at your place later.”

He brushed a kiss against my lips and was gone, leaving me to wonder why Dominic Castellano was turning out to be a much more complicated person than I had ever guessed.

The weeks following my computer training passed quickly. I no longer dreaded going to work because I was actually busy these days. I found myself enjoying working on the computer that Dominic had purchased. I was happy and as a result he appeared happy as well.

It seemed I had taken very easily to the various software programs that had been uploaded to my Compaq. I was becoming fairly competent with dBase, Lotus-1-2-3 spreadsheet, and WordPerfect for the office.

As promised, he had managed to acquire some prototype PC software called Illustrator, and I didn’t ask for any details, figuring it might be better to be left in the dark on that one. All I knew was that I loved figuring out how to use it and creating awesome clothing designs with the use of a pointer wand. I only fiddled around with that on my lunch hour or after hours when I simply couldn’t drag my ass away from it. Maybe he was right; maybe I did have some God-given talent for design.

So I busied myself in my work and continued to spend any spare time that I had when Dominic was away, working on my “fall line” of designing fashions for fun.

Dominic was always interested in seeing my computer designs when he stopped by my office, and at the condo. I had taken to sketching my creations on paper with a set of colored charcoals I had purchased to use when I was at home where my computer wasn’t available.

I almost liked sketching them myself better than using the software. It offered more creativity for accents, garment lines and flow.

The phone on my desk rang, pulling me from my latest swimsuit design on the screen of my computer.

“West-End Storage,” I answered automatically.

“How’s my west end girl?” I heard Dominic ask, and I imagined his smile as he did so. “Working late again? Have I overloaded you?”

I stifled a giggle, because he knew damn well what was keeping me at the office late.

“I’m sorry,” I sighed, “But it’s your fault for buying the fashion design program. I’m hooked, I admit it.”

“I’m only happy that you’re making good use of it. But we’re flying out tonight for a long weekend, have you forgotten? I want to make sure that you’re packed and ready when I send my driver to pick you up at seven. The plane will be ready and waiting for us.”

“Dominic,” I sighed, rolling my eyes, “It really wasn’t necessary for you to go all out for my birthday like this. I’m fine with just staying in town.”

“Nonsense,” he replied tersely. “Your twenty-first birthday is the first of many milestones. It should be celebrated properly. Besides that, I have some business in New York on Monday and Tuesday so the extra long weekend has dual purposes.”

“Such the romantic,” I said, shutting down my computer. “Don’t worry, I’ll be ready. But who’s going to run the office here while I’m out?”

“Not to worry,” he said, I’ve taken care of that. Vinnie or Sal will come by to put the cash receipts into the safe. I’ll have the calls transferred to one of their secretaries. So no worries, mia cara.”

Hmmmm.

As promised, I was packed and ready when Dominic’s driver, Robert, came to my door at seven sharp. He was a quiet guy, fairly emotionless, but always the gentleman.

“Is this it?” he asked, picking up just the one suitcase.

“Yep,” I replied, shutting the door to my condo behind us.

I was sure he was used to the vast wardrobe Anna Maria more than likely packed when traveling. I’d heard snippets from Dominic about how his wife loved to shop for couture every chance she had. He didn’t seem to mind though. Maybe it made him feel less guilty about his keeping a mistress.

Provided he was even capable of feeling guilt.

I mean, for as much time as we spent with one another, I still hadn’t managed to dissect his psyche. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t talkative or anything, because I was fairly sure that as much as Dominic was able to open up to anyone, he had opened up to me. He just never talked business—or commented in depth about his family.

He never questioned me about my personal stuff, which I suppose was a major factor in deterring me from questioning him. As much as he seemed to be fond of me, he didn’t delve into my past or ask questions about my family or anything. I wondered if he thought about it at all. Maybe he thought my life had started the day he met me in a brothel.