We head into Nico’s office. We’re not touching anymore: no hand holding, no standing close. The physical space between us is nothing compared to the psychic space.
Corey’s eyes are alert, attentive. She takes in the agents, shakes their hands. I think I see relief register after she meets them, but that doesn’t make sense. She doesn’t know these guys.
They take her into a room and question her. It doesn’t take long: ten minutes, tops.
When she comes out, it’s my turn.
I go in and sit down across from the two yahoos.
“Mr. Tacone, we’re investigating the disappearance of Eric Donahue. The last place he was seen was this hotel on the night of the 23rd. Do you recall seeing Mr. Donahue?”
I nod. “Yes. I met him as he was leaving. Kind of a douche.”
Agent Spinelli raises his brows. “Oh yeah? How so?”
I shrug. “He thought my brother would be here playing with him. He wasn’t thrilled it was just me and I only came in at the end. But what can you do?”
“So Mr. Donahue cashed out and left after you stopped in. And then what? Did you have any further contact with him?”
“None.”
“Did your brother?”
“Not that I know of. Did you ask him?”
They ignore my question. “Did you know Donahue prior to meeting him on the night of the 23rd?”
I shake my head. “Never met him, nor had I heard of him, other than to see he was on the list for the private game.”
“Anything else you can tell us about Donahue? His demeanor, anything he mentioned?”
“No. Average guy. Not a great player. He lost, but I wouldn’t say he’s the suicide type. But I guess you never know.” I shrug.
“All right, that’s all, Mr. Tacone. Thank you.”
I leave the room. Corey’s not in the offices, nor is she in the hallway. I head up to my room, but I already know she won’t be there.
This investigation draws a line in the sand.
She’s on one side of it, and I’m on the other.
* * *
Corey
I drive home after the questions from the feds because I’m too shaken up to stay. The hot sex with Stefano would’ve been tepid, at best.
Why were they questioning us at eleven at night anyway? Oh, maybe because that’s when the staff who worked the night the guy went missing are in the casino?
My dad wasn’t one of the feds asking questions, which was a huge relief. I seriously couldn’t have handled him in the same building as Stefano. I think I could combust. But his absence is curious. Does it mean he’s working undercover on this?
Or is it not his case and he just volunteered to question me because he knows I work here? Or more likely, because he heard about Sondra’s engagement?
What a dick.
My phone buzzes while I’m unlocking my front door. It’s a text from Stefano.
Stefano: Grrr
I standing just inside my door and stare at the screen, guilt splashing through me. We’d had an awesome date. I totally left him blue-balled.
I start to text sorry, but change my mind and hit the call button instead.
“Corey.” He sounds relieved I called.
“I’m sorry I ran out. I just… was unnerved and needed to regroup.” I drop my purse and keys on the table and kick off my heels.
“Yeah, I get it. I’m sorry you had to do that for me.”
For me. Our relationship has shifted enough that all pretense of threats are gone. He knows things are personal now. I am doing it for him. For sure.
“Rain check?” I fill a glass with ice water in my kitchen.
“Of course. Tomorrow night?”
He’s asking me. For once, Stefano Tacone is asking, not telling. It’s nice, not that I mind the telling, either. It suits him to play bossman and he does it so well.
“I should probably get some shifts in so I can pay my rent.”
“You’re still on payroll, baby. And you just made three grand tonight.”
“Oh yeah,” I laugh. I had actually forgotten because the money didn’t seem real to me.
“Next week I’ll get you in a high stakes game. See if you can win big.”
Judging by the way my heart picks up speed and my whole body turns on, I’d say I want this. How Stefano knows, I have no idea. Or maybe I’m just excited because he’s a part of it.
“You really think I can do this?”
“I do,” he says without hesitation. “But it’s not about whether you win or lose. That’s not why I’m entering you.”
“Why, then?”
“I think you’ll enjoy it. Stretch yourself a bit. Use your talents in a new way. I think it could be fun.”
My chest has gone gooey and warm. Since when did Stefano Tacone care about my fun? About my sense of fulfillment?
I experience a stab of guilt and not giving him the same kind of thought. All I’ve been doing is keeping him at arm’s length. Barricading my heart from the sexy playboy of the Bellissimo.