Chapter 12
Zo’s jaw tightened. A muscle moved in his cheek. In his world, families were not touched. Children were not terrorized over paper debts. Crossing that line invited ruin. “Clear it,” Zo said. Gabe frowned. “Clear the debt?” “Yes.” “Boss, it’s almost $40,000. And it isn’t our mess.” Zo looked up. The temperature in the room seemed to fall. “Did I ask for an accounting lesson, Gabe?” Gabe recognized the lethal calm. “No, sir.” “Consider it done. We’ll wire the funds through the front companies this morning.” “No.” Zo leaned back. “Don’t wire it.” Gabe waited. “I want Thomas to go there. Give him a white envelope with $40,000 in cash. He hands it directly to the manager of that collection agency.” Zo’s eyes hardened. “And Thomas makes it very clear that if anyone from that office contacts Tessa Cole again, they will not have kneecaps to walk to their cars.” Gabe nodded slowly. “Understood.” He paused. “The violent approach to philanthropy. New look for you, Zo.” “Get it done.”
An hour later, the service elevator chimed on the first floor. Zo watched through the security feed. Tessa entered the mudroom 15 minutes early. She punched her time card with stiff, apprehensive movements. She was waiting for the other shoe to fall. In her mind, the hot meal and food for Mia had been an aberration. A momentary lapse of cruelty from a dangerous man. Today she expected an empty locker and a termination notice. She opened the locker. Her uniform remained inside. Zo pressed the intercom button connecting his desk to the staff corridors. “Tessa.” His voice echoed through the mudroom speaker. On-screen, she jumped and looked around wildly. “Come to the third floor.” She clutched her coat against herself. “My study. Now.” Zo released the button. 5 minutes later, a soft knock came at his door. “Come in.” Tessa entered. Inside the enormous mahogany-paneled room, she looked smaller than ever. Morning light pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows illuminated the exhaustion in her face. Her eyes remained fixed on the edge of his desk. “Mr. Rossi,” she said shakily. “If you’re firing me, please just—please don’t hold my last paycheck. I worked the full week.”
