I gape at him. “That place is… expensive.”
He shrugs. “So?”
“Right. Rich. I forgot.”
He laughs and clearly likes that. “That, and connected. Don’t forget connected.”
I roll my eyes at him but I do feel excited.
We’re dropped off out front and seated almost immediately. We have a nice booth toward the back, the perfect table in a gorgeous place. Every table is smooth marble with plush green velvet seating. The glasses are round and sleek, and everything is clean and modern. It’s a steak house, but not the sort of classic, traditional steak house most people imagine.
“What do you think?” he asks.
“It’s nice,” I say, biting my lip and staring at the menu.
“Get what you want. Get two, I don’t care.”
“Oh, yeah? Maybe I should. I could use lunch for tomorrow.”
He grins at me. “Hell, get three. Buy yourself some dinner, too.”
“Now you’re spoiling me.”
He leans closer. “I haven’t even begun to spoil you.”
I blush for some reason and bury my nose in the menu.
He asks me more questions about myself, this time about music and movies and things like that. He has surprisingly mundane taste in everything. I don’t know why but I expected him to be into really fancy classic jazz or something like that, but instead we listen to all the same podcasts, all the same music.
“What, did you think there were movies and music just for rich people?” he asks me when I express surprise at his taste.
“I guess so. I thought you people just went to the opera?”
“Oh, well, sure, we do. I get the expensive sets just to prove how rich I am. I don’t even like the opera. They keep singing in Italian.”
I laugh a little. “It’s so annoying. Just speak English. This is America, right?”
“Exactly. Or at least someone get some subtitles up there.”
We laugh together and he orders a nice bottle of wine. The food comes not long later, and after a drink, I work up the nerve to ask him what I’ve been meaning to ask all night.
“You mentioned having a weird day today,” I say, trying to keep it casual.
He doesn’t notice how nervous I am. “Yeah, well. Had a weird meeting this morning.”
“What happened?”
He hesitates a second. I think he might’ve seen through me, but he takes a sip of wine. “My partner can be a little… unconventional.”
My heart starts beating faster. I work hard to stay in control. “Oh?”
“Darin’s smart. Well-connected… in a way. We grew up together.”
“How did you meet?”
“Boarding school,” he says. “Of course.”
“Right. Of course.”
“We didn’t realize our differences at first. We just hit it off and became good friends. The differences didn’t start to matter until later, but then we just… didn’t care.”
I frown a little and swirl my wine. “What do you mean, differences?”
“I don’t know how to say it without sounding very conceited.”
“So just say it plainly.”
He runs a finger down his napkin, considering for a moment. “I come from a very wealthy, very old family. He comes from a much newer, much less wealthy family. They’re rich and connected, but not like my family is. And that sort of thing matters in our world, as much as it shouldn’t.”
“Does it stop you from being friends?”
“No,” he says. “Not at all. At least, it didn’t.”
“Why did you start a business together?”
He laughs a little. “That’s easy. He’s the outgoing charmer and I’m the numbers freak.”
I raise both my eyebrows up. “You’re the numbers geek?”
“You couldn’t tell?” He smirks at me, leaning closer.
“I couldn’t tell at all.”
“Well, it’s true. He brings in the clients… and I do the math. We make a good team.” He pauses. “Mostly.”
“So what happened in your meeting? Did he do something?”
“Oh, Darin, no, he wasn’t there. He set it up, but he wasn’t there.” He hesitates again. I can tell he’s thinking about what to tell me, wondering if he can just come out with it.
This is what I’ve been waiting for. Whatever he wants to tell me, I know it has something to do with the investigation. Darin Ficino has been on my boss’s radar for a very long time. Really, all of the Ficino family, and all the related families underneath them. We’ve been watching them closely and now I feel like I’m about to get a little bit of a break.
“He sent me into a meeting unprepared,” he says finally. “I’m not sure how else to describe it. The clients had certain expectations that I’m not comfortable with or willing to meet, but Darin had clearly made some promises. So I was sort of hung out to dry.”
“Oh,” I say. “That’s weird. I mean, why wouldn’t he prep you?”
“I don’t know,” he admits, then pauses again. “Well, I do know. Or at least I think I do.”
I laugh a little. “That’s confusing.”
“I know. I’m trying to decide what to tell you. I don’t think you’ll believe me, so I can probably just say it.”