My Shallow Ex Stole My Life Savings — He Didn’t Know He Robbed A Crime Boss
Part 2
Anthony didn’t flinch.
He looked down at my flushed, angry face, a ghost of a smile touching his lips.
It isn’t charity, Heather, he said softly, stepping into my personal space.
The universe took something from you, and I merely forced the universe to give it back.
You paid off my commercial loan, I hissed, acutely aware of how small the bakery suddenly felt with him inside it.
That sum was nearly sixty thousand dollars.
I am a baker, Anthony.
I cannot owe a favor to the head of the Russo family.
He reached out, his large, warm hand gently wrapping around my thick forearm.
His thumb stroked the soft, flour-dusted skin of my wrist.
You owe me nothing, he murmured.
In fact, I am here to offer you a highly lucrative catering contract for all of my corporate fronts.
But we cannot discuss business in a kitchen.
He stepped back, his eyes traveling over my body with that same raw hunger.
I am sending a car for you at seven tonight.
Wear something comfortable.
We have a lot to discuss.
I don’t have time for a dinner date, I argued, crossing my thick arms defensively, and I certainly don’t have anything suitable to wear to wherever a man like you eats.
You don’t need to worry about a thing, Anthony replied smoothly, turning toward the door.
Do not make my driver wait.
Four hours later, a sleek black town car pulled up to my modest apartment building.
The driver delivered two massive garment bags directly to my door.
When I unzipped the primary bag, I actually cried.
For my entire adult life, fashion had been a battlefield filled with shapeless sacks designed to hide fat bodies.
But Anthony had sent a custom-tailored emerald green silk gown.
It was a size twenty-two, structured with hidden flexible boning designed to support my chest and cinch my waist.
When I put it on and looked in the mirror, I didn’t see a woman who needed to hit the gym.
I saw a queen.
At exactly seven, I walked out of my building.
Anthony was leaning against a Rolls-Royce Phantom, and when he saw me, he actually stopped breathing.
He walked up to me, pressing a searingly hot kiss to my knuckles.
You are spectacular, he murmured.
Dinner was at an exclusive underground supper club.
For the first time in years, I felt completely at ease as he listened to me with rapt attention.
As the plates were cleared, his expression shifted to dangerously serious.
He leaned forward, steepling his fingers.
Six months ago, a junior partner at a wealth management firm wanted to impress his new girlfriend by buying a stake in an illegal offshore casino, Anthony said quietly.
My blood turned to ice.
Dan.
Dan Harrington, Anthony confirmed, his voice laced with venom.
He drained your accounts to use as a down payment on a half-million-dollar loan from my organization.
He defaulted yesterday.
I sat perfectly still.
The man who had broken my heart and ruined my life had accidentally stolen from the most dangerous syndicate in Chicago.
Anthony stood up, offering me his hand.
Come with me, Heather.
It is time for you to collect your debts.
What would you do if the man who destroyed your life was suddenly tied to a chair at your feet?
