Page 100 of Married to the Devil

“There’s no disrespect meant, Mr. Corvino. When your organization came to me with the merger deal, it felt like a godsend. You know the state of Denning right now.”

“You’re breaking even. And barely at that.”

“Numbers only go down around here. I can be candid. You’ve seen all the projections but you still want the place. I assume you’ve got big plans.”

“My plans are not your concern.”

“Good, that’s fine, but here’s the thing. This is still my shop. So until the paperwork is signed, you don’t get a say on what goes on around here, do you hear me?”

I almost laugh. This worm standing up to me has to be the most absurd thing to happen in a while. I rise to my feet slowly. He stares, his face beet red, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair.

I move around the desk and lift his phone.

His skull makes a soft wet thud when I bash him with the receiver.

“Fuck!” he grunts, cringing away.

I hit him again. And again. And again. I hit him so hard the cord snaps and I keep going. He cries out, falling to the floor, covering himself with his arms as I kneel on his thigh and hit him in the ribs, in the chest, in the hips and the stomach.

When I’m done, I stand and toss the phone aside.

He stays on the floor breathing hard, looking at me in pure terror.

“Let’s start this conversation over again.” I pull his chair back and sit. He remains on the floor. “Why have you been stalling?”

“I don’t know what⁠—“

I lean forward, elbows on my knees. He flinches away. “Don’t do that, Doug. Why have you been stalling?”

“It’s not my fault.” He’s whispering now. His eyes dance around in his head, a nervous, freakish jig. “They told me not to say anything. They told me you’d blame me if I talked.”

“Blame you for what?”

“I don’t know! Everything!” He sits up cross-legged like a small child, head hanging. “He showed up a month ago. I didn’t take him seriously. Not at first.”

My heart races. “What did he say?”

“He told me that the merger can’t go down. That if it did, bad things would happen. I laughed at first, you know? Because it was so stupid, so crass and obvious, but then⁠—“

I curl my hands into fists. “What happened?”

“My dog. I came down one morning and found my dog with his throat cut lying in a puddle of blood. God, if my kids had found him—“ Doug covers his face with both hands. “Men were following me. I got letters in the mail with graphic threats. One looked like it was stained with blood. A brick got thrown through our window. That was hard to explain to my family. And then he visited.”

My mouth goes dry. I can see him now. Ignazio striding into this office like he already owned it. The bastard. “What did he say?”

“There were no threats. He was calm and direct. He made it clear that I had to delay the merger as long as possible, and if I didn’t, something bad would happen to my kids. He didn’t say it in those words, but he made it clear. What was my choice? What could I do? They were terrorizing us.”

“Why didn’t you come to me?”

“He told me not to. And for all I knew, you were a part of it. I had no clue what was going on. God, you don’t understand. The pressure I felt. I wanted to run away but my kids…” He sobs once, the pathetic bastard.

I almost feel sorry for him.

Except I’m so close. I can feel it now. I kick him lightly in the knee to remind him that I’m here. He gathers himself together, wiping his face on his sleeve. It’s snotty and disgusting.

“When Ignazio made those threats, did he mention anyone else? Did you see anyone he was working with?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t even know what his name was. He never told me.”