Page 37 of Vow Of Fire

Shit.

He was right.

This was New York. Clients would stop buying, artists would go elsewhere to exhibit. No matter what I did, my business was dead. Finito. Plus, I’d probably end up convicted of fraud on top of it.

I blinked before he could see the tears that sprang into my eyes. The anger, the humiliation, the feeling of being utterly small was too much.

“Get out,” I hissed, pulling my hand away.

He released it but took a step closer.

“Watch your mouth, Ophelia, or I might just take offense.” He gripped my chin and lifted it up so I had no choice but to look at him. Those silver eyes slanted down at me, devastating in their intensity.

“You might not like it, but you owe your success to my family. You know… the one you find so despicable. And while you may not have known about the money laundering, it doesn’t mean you didn’t sell us out to Malakov. In fact, who’s to say you didn’t discover what we were doing and decide to get revenge because of it?”

I stared at him, stunned. “Revenge? How could you even think that?”

“Honey, I’ve been in this business a long time, and there isn’t much I don’t know about betrayal. And I’ll tell you something for free. It’s usually the people you least suspect.”

I had no response. That world was foreign to me. My parents had been law-abiding citizens. I paid my taxes. I believed that there were still good people out there.

All that had changed in a heartbeat.

Having said his piece, Dante dropped his hand. I could still feel the pressure from his fingers on my jaw.

“And for what it’s worth, that figure you found, it wasn’t us. That’s what I was checking on my phone.”

An icy chill slid down my spine.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered. “If it wasn’t you, then who was it?”

His features turned grim. “If I had to guess, I’d say someone else is using your gallery as a laundromat.”

10

BLACK LACE FANTASIES

Dante

My guess was Malakov.

That sleazy Russian had been using Evelyn’s gallery to launder Bratva money.

While I was okay with us doing it, I was definitely not okay with anyone else doing it. Especially not that bastard.

Fuck. Why did I even care?

Because Malakov is your enemy, the voice in my head reasoned. Because he took out your men, stole your shipment, and wants to muscle in on Marcelli business.

So what? The Agora wasn’t our property. If others wanted to buy their art for inflated prices, that was up to them.

Still, it grated on me.

While she was in her room, I took another look at the transaction list, then called Vincent. He agreed the overpayment was suspicious, but he didn’t know who the buyer or the intermediary was. Evelyn and Chloe dealt with them, he just processed the figures and took care of our side of the business.

While I had him on the phone, I asked him about the sum paid into Evelyn’s personal account. He confirmed it did indeed match the reserve on the painting.

Shit. No obvious pay-off meant I couldn’t prove she’d sold us out.