Chapter 7
“Is that right?” Zo stopped 2 ft away. He towered over her. His presence filled the small room. He looked at her hands. Her knuckles were white around the canvas strap. His eyes moved to the bag. Then back to her face. “You bring that bag in empty every morning. You take it out full every night.” Tessa’s breathing became ragged. “I left $10,000 on a table. You didn’t touch it. I left a drive. You ignored it.” His gaze remained on her. “So tell me, Tessa. What are you taking out of my house?” Panic flooded her eyes. “Nothing, sir. Please. It’s nothing. Just my things.” “Show me.” “Please, Mr. Rossi. I swear it’s nothing.” “Show me the bag.” His voice dropped lower. The command was absolute, carrying the unspoken violence upon which his empire had been built. Tears immediately filled Tessa’s eyes. She shook her head. “No. Please. You’ll fire me. Please don’t fire me. I need this job. I need it so badly.”
Her refusal and her desperate attempt to protect the bag confirmed everything in Zo’s mind. His expression hardened. She was a thief. A rat. He did not strike her. He did not raise his voice. He simply reached forward, seized the bottom of the tote, yanked it upward, and twisted the strap from her hands. Tessa cried out and stumbled toward him. Zo already had the bag. He stepped backward, unzipped it in 1 motion, and turned it upside down over the floor. He expected blueprints. A listening device. Smuggled cash. Stolen silverware. Possibly narcotics taken from the medical wing. Instead, the contents struck the concrete with a pathetic plastic clatter. Zo stared. His mind, normally capable of processing complicated criminal politics in seconds, stopped. There were no secrets. No betrayal. On the cold floor lay 4 cheap, heavily stained plastic food containers.
