The Mafia Boss Thought His Secretary Betrayed Him — Until He Found Her Scrubbing Diner Floors To Pay A Debt His Empire Created

PART 5

“You will not pay another dollar,” Weston said.

“You cannot simply tell men like Marcus to forget eighty thousand dollars.”

“I can.”

He tapped the partition. “Owen. Cancel the morning meetings. Wake Silas Bram. Tell him to bring Marcus Voss and every ledger connected to his loan operation to the Fulton warehouse. Now.”

“What are you going to do?” Wren asked.

“Correct an accounting error.”

—

The elevator to Weston’s penthouse required forty-two seconds. Wren counted every one. When the doors opened, she stepped into a vast apartment of dark wood, gray stone, and cold glass.

“You are staying here,” Weston said.

“I should go home.”

“You are barely standing.”

He disappeared down a hallway and returned carrying a gray T-shirt and dark flannel pants. “The guest room is the second door.”

“What happens at the warehouse?”

“That is not something you need to witness.”

“Will you kill him?”

“Marcus’s choices will determine what his life costs.”

“That is not an answer.”

“It is the only one I have.”

“You should hate me,” Weston said unexpectedly.

She studied him. “Part of me does.”

He nodded once, as though she had confirmed a calculation. “Then sleep.”

For the first time in six months, Wren slept without setting an alarm.