Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Vince exhales through his nose. “The week’s deposit was light by thirty-eight.”
“Thirty-eight hundred,” I clarify.
“Yes.”
“And you’re telling me that it’s just a timing issue.”
“Yes.” He sounds bored. “A vendor payment cleared early, so the operating cash position looked worse than it was over the weekend.”
I tap the paper once. “Last week, you said it was a deposit discrepancy.”
He hesitates. Darren stares straight ahead.
I set the paper down neatly on the desk. “If you’re going to lie to me, at least keep the story consistent.”
Vince’s face tightens. “I’m not lying.”
I nod slowly, then turn my attention to Darren. “How long has Vince been skimming?”
Darren goes pale.
Vince shoots to his feet. “That’s not what this is.”
I don’t look at him. “Darren.”
Darren swallows. “I don’t know for sure.”
I stare at him for a long moment.
He immediately drops his gaze.
“A couple months,” he says quietly. “Maybe three.”
Vince turns toward him with genuine disbelief. “What the hell are you doing?” he shouts.
I don’t raise my voice. “How much?”
Darren’s jaw tightens. “I thought it was small enough to cover until the summer bookings picked up. Then the issue with the liquor invoice happened, and the numbers got tighter. That’s when I realized.”
“How much?” I repeat.
He says nothing.
Matteo, my cousin and the enforcer in my organization, finally speaks from his place on the sofa. “Sebastian asked you a question.”
Matteo never needs to sound threatening. He has a diplomatic face and a controlled voice that gives people a false sense of security. They usually don’t realize they’re being backed into a corner until they’ve got nowhere left to go. One of the many reasons he’s useful.
Darren drags a hand over his mouth. “Eighty-two thousand.”
Vince mutters a curse.
I sit still for a moment, watching Darren try not to unravel in front of me. Eighty-two thousand isn’t enough to hurt us. That’s not the point. The point is Vince had the audacity to steal from me. If they aren’t scared shitless to take my money, I’m not living up to my reputation.
“You understand,” I say, “what happens to men who steal from me.”
“I swear to God, I didn’t steal anything!” Vince shouts. His face is probably red by now, but I don’t bother looking at him.
“Matteo is going to escort you out,” I say, still without looking. “Consider yourself terminated.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Matteo rise. Vince tries to fight him. He knows what happens next, and it won’t be pretty. I’d handle it myself, but I have more important things to worry about this morning.
Once Matteo’s escorted him out, I turn my full attention back to Darren. He’s pale and looks absolutely terrified. Probably thinking about what’s happening to his coworker right now.
“Tell me about Saturday,” I say, moving on to my second problem.
Darren licks his lips. “A few guys came through around midnight. Ordered bottle service, got loud, acted like they owned the place. One of the floor men recognized their leader as a Marchetti.”
That tracks. The Marchetti crew has spent the last six months trying to bait me. No outright violence yet, but they’re like gnats. Annoying enough that I’m constantly swatting them away without any real results.
“And?”
“They started bothering one of the hostesses. Security intervened. It got physical outside.”
“How physical?”
“One broken nose. One dislocated shoulder. Our guys handled it.”
“That’s not the first time we’ve had to handle a rowdy patron. What happened that’s got you looking so worried?”
Darren glances down at his hands. “One of them said Bellissimo wasn’t going to be ours much longer.”
I nod once, then pick up my phone and text Matteo.
Put pressure on Vince. See if he’s working with the Marchettis.
He texts back almost immediately.
Don’t worry, I’ll make him talk.
I’ll have an answer by the end of the day, if not sooner. Matteo is nothing if not persuasive.
“I’m not sure this arrangement is working out, Darren,” I say. “You’re missing too many details, and I can’t have that at any of my properties. See HR on your way out. They’ll start your exit paperwork.”
“Mr. DeLuca, please,” he begs. “I have a family.”
“You should be happy I’m only firing you,” I tell him darkly.
He nods slowly and stands like he’s in a daze. There’s no fight left in him, which suits me fine. I’m not in the mood to pick up his pieces. I text Nico, my Chief Operating Officer.
Double security at Bellissimo and Dolce for the next two weekends. Dress it up however you want. Guest experience initiative, staff protection, I don’t care. And we need new management staff there ASAP.
He’s up in my office ten minutes later.
“We can pull one of the assistant managers from Prime Vida and assign one of our staff accountants until we can find permanent replacements,” he says, staring at his iPad. “That should cause minimal disruption.”
“That’s why I pay you the big bucks,” I say, rubbing my forehead. “Christ, it’s not even nine a.m. and I’m ready for a drink.”