The Billionaire’s Marriage Of Deception

Chapter 7

Talking to Amanda was both easier and harder than Michael had imagined it would be. For one thing, she just sat, legs crossed, staring at him as if he was some alien come down from space and trying to communicate with her in his own language.

For another, she was entirely too calm.

And lastly he didn’t understand what the smile on her face was about.

“I thought you didn’t want me,” she said when he was through with his tale.

“I beg your pardon,” he asked.

“When you started disappearing. I thought you were trying to slowly distance yourself and that one day you would ask me for a divorce…and maybe half of my fortune as well,” she sounded ruefully amused and Michael was at a loss as to how to handle this. She thought he wanted to leave? How ludicrous was that?

Going over his behavior for the past half year, he could – grudgingly – see how she might have thought that. But he’d been preoccupied dammit. With her. With saving her life and/or her fortune from whatever this Calvin dude was up to. He hadn’t thought…it had been necessary.

“Never,” he said with feeling.

“Never?” she asked eyebrows raised.

“Never,” he replied with conviction.

“Okay then. So…Calvin.”

“Yeah. Why is he so interested in you?”

“He was going broke. He was using me to get money. Maybe…”

“No I checked his finances. He already obtained an injection of cash. The business is relatively in the black now.”

“Relatively? And cash from who?”

“Still working on that. The name of the payer was “Florentine International’ which does not have a physical address but seems to be some sort of dummy corporation or probably  a front to a criminal enterprise-“

“No. Florentine International isn’t a dummy corporation or a criminal enterprise,” Amanda interrupted.

“What is it?” Michael asked in surprise.

Amanda regarded him, brown eyes unflinching, “My father had a business partner in the early days. His name was Florian Valentine; he was a Sicilian who grew up in the Bronx with my father. When they were teenagers, they…ran…together; pushing drugs on the street, collecting cash for bookies…doing…you know – whatever it took to bring home the bacon.”

Michael took a step toward her, honey gold eyes intent on hers, “I didn’t know that,” he said.

“Nobody does. Outside of me and…my parents,” Amanda said, eyes bright. “And of course, Florian.”

“After my father met my mother – she was a student in college at the time, working an internship where he was delivering a package. She signed for it, and it was love at first sight…” Amanda smiled, remembering her father’s face as he told her the story. “So anyway, she wouldn’t give him the time of day for a while. Something about not wanting to get mixed up with a ‘man like him’,” Amanda lifted her hands to make the air quotes as she said it.

“A criminal she meant,” Michael clarified.

Amanda shrugged, “I never asked. Anyway,  my dad tried to deny it to no avail; so he straight up decided to go legit. He told his friend Florian that he was out; toeing the lawful line; going legit. Florian didn’t take it well.”

“I can imagine.”

“Yeah. He was pissed as fu*k. But my dad would not be moved. My dad’s first legit business was a delivery firm consisting of him and another guy. They had bikes they used; my dad would go out and make contact with firms in the early mornings and evenings. During the day, they would do deliveries. When my mother saw what he was doing, she decided to help; calling up her contacts to get him more business. Their courtship centered around building him a legit business. By the time my mother graduated college, they were engaged.”

“Great story,” Michael said.

“Not a story. My parents’ life. Florian was arrested at some point; for murder. He had joined a gang for real, though by that time and they had major connections. He was out in five years. My dad lost track of him somewhat, but ten years later he resurfaced as a legit businessman. Tried to get in partnership with my dad again but my mother especially wouldn’t have it. We thought he’d relocated back to New York.”

“Would you say he’d have a grudge against your family?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t see any other reason for him to be mixed up with Calvin.”

Michael looked down at his clasped hands and then back up at Amanda, “Do you want me to get rid of them?” he asked.

Amanda’s caramel eyes widened in surprise, “What do you mean…get rid of them?”

Michael shrugged, “Whatever you want it to mean Amanda. Just say the word.”

*****

He was shoved to his knees, and the bag was forcefully ripped off his head, the edge catching on his chin and yanking it back. He opened his eyes wide, not paying mind to the bright florescent lights or to the fact that his wrists were starting to burn from the rope binding them. He grinned, a vicious thing, and lowered his head so that he could look forward, towards the person his captors had brought him to.

There was a man, in a red jacket and an owl mask, standing a few feet in front of Calvin. Calvin stared at the man for a few moments, still grinning, before bursting into laughter. He could practically feel his captors that had stayed behind him glancing at one another in confusion.

Calvin attempted to speak, but it took him several tries to break his laughter with the words, “An…an owl mask? Really? Why an owl?”

The man stepped forward while Calvin calmed himself. The man, the leader of this gang if Calvin’s information was right, squatted down so that he was eye level with the tied up man. Calvin’s eyes flicked over to somewhere over the leaders’ right shoulder before settling on the yellow rubber eyes of the mask, trying to tell if he could see underneath. He couldn’t.

“So,” said the leader, forearms resting on his knees while he stayed almost sat on his heels. “You think my mask is funny? I could say the same for you. Last time I saw you, you had a raccoon as a face. But now…” He trailed off, standing up, walking over to the wall of the warehouse, and grabbing a fold-up chair before dragging it over to where Calvin was still kneeling with his hands tied behind his back, letting the metal scrape against the concrete floor. He set it down a few feet in front of Calvin and sat back in it, pulling out a pistol from a holster on his waist. “I could hand you over to the police you know.” He said nonchalantly, turning the gun over in his hands as he inspected it. “Drop you off, leave a couple tip offs as to who your friends are and where to find them-“

He was cut off by Calvin’ sharp bark of laughter. “I don’t have friends.” He said, eyes glinting dangerously, highlighting how deranged his smile was as he said the words.

“My research says you do. Tell me though, why shouldn’t I hand you off to the cops?” The leader leaned forward, elbows on his knees and pistol forgotten, dangling limply in his hands. “And since you haven’t tried anything…yet…I think it’s safe to be on a named basis with you. I’m Michael. I think you knew that already though.“

Calvin tilted his head to the side a bit before answering, “Yes. I did. And as for why you won’t hand me over-“ Michael raised his eyebrow at the conviction in Calvin’ voice. “-It’s because you’re curious.