Chapter 4 - Dinner With the Man Who Knew
Victor Bellini looked like the sort of man who remembered birthdays.
Silver hair. Soft voice. A wedding ring polished by decades of habit.
He greeted Dante with both hands on his shoulders, then turned to me.
“Emily Davies. Finally.”
His smile was warm enough to make my skin crawl.
“I hear you’ve improved morale.”
“I ordered better coffee.”
“A woman who knows what men need.”
“Usually a calendar reminder.”
Dante made a quiet sound beside me.
Victor noticed.
Of course he did.
Dinner took place in a private dining room above a restaurant bearing Victor’s mother’s name. His wife was visiting their grandchildren in Florida. His adult sons were conveniently absent.
There were four place settings.
The fourth belonged to Sal.
He entered with a bruised cheek and the posture of a man who had discovered every chair in the world was uncomfortable.
Dante went still.
Victor poured wine.
“We’re family,” he said. “We settle misunderstandings together.”
“Three million dollars is a substantial misunderstanding,” Dante replied.
“Sal has an explanation.”
Sal looked at me, then away.
“It was bridge financing.”
“For what?” I asked.
Victor’s smile thinned.
“Business.”
“Wonderful. I was worried we’d stolen it for recreation.”
Under the table, Dante’s knee touched mine.
Not a warning.
A brief, grounding point of contact.
Victor set down the bottle.
“You’re funny.”
“Only when underfed.”
A server arrived with soup, saving everyone from whatever came next.
I ate three spoonfuls before realizing Victor had been watching me instead of his plate.
“How is your brother?”
The room narrowed.
“Doing well.”
“Good. Such a difficult condition.”
“He has good days and difficult ones. He also has a name.”
“Leo. Of course.”
Dante laid his spoon down.
The small sound silenced the room.
“Emily’s family is not dinner conversation.”
Victor lifted his palms.
“I was expressing concern.”
“Express it somewhere else.”
For the first time, Victor looked directly at Dante without the affectionate mask.
It lasted less than a second.
Long enough.
After dinner, he invited Dante into his study.
I stayed in the dining room with Sal.
The moment the door closed, Sal leaned toward me.
“I didn’t send that photograph.”
“Your phone disagrees.”
“He uses people’s phones.”
“Who?”
Sal’s gaze jumped toward the study.
I kept my face still.
“Why Lakefront?”
His breathing quickened.
“Because it never really closed. New owner. Old account. I was told to move money.”
“Who owns it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You stole three million dollars on behalf of a company you didn’t investigate?”
“I thought I could keep some.”
There it was.
Not innocence.
Just a smaller man discovering he had attached himself to a larger crime.
Sal reached beneath the table.
I stiffened.
He slid a folded restaurant receipt toward me.
“There’s a storage unit. I kept copies. Insurance.”
“Give it to your lawyer.”
“I need to stay alive long enough to get one.”
Before I could answer, the study door opened.
Dante stepped out, his face unreadable.
“We’re leaving.”
Victor followed.
“Emily, a word.”
“No,” Dante said.
I stood anyway.
His gaze found mine, searching.
I gave the smallest shake of my head. I could handle a sentence.
Victor approached, keeping his voice low.
“You seem intelligent. Don’t mistake his attention for a future. Clara did.”
I looked at the silver wedding ring on his hand.
“Did she?”
He smiled.
“People in this family end up disappointed.”
“Then perhaps the family needs better management.”
For one dangerous beat, his smile vanished.
Outside, cold air hit my face like mercy.
Dante waited until we were in the car before speaking.
“What did he say?”
“That you’re bad for my retirement plan.”
“Emily.”
I unfolded Sal’s receipt.
A storage address. A unit number. Three words.
CLARA. ORIGINAL RECORDS.
Dante read them twice.
Then he reached for his phone.
I caught his wrist.
“No.”
His eyes moved to my hand.
“We call the lawyers,” I said. “We don’t raid anything. We don’t scare anyone into another confession.”
For a moment, I thought he would pull away.
Instead, he placed his phone in my palm.
“Call Ruth.”
I did.
As she answered, Dante looked back at the restaurant.
Behind an upstairs window, Victor stood watching our car.
He raised his glass.
May you like
Dante didn’t wave.
For the first time that night, Victor looked uncertain.
