Chapter 5 - I Went Back to Preston
Everyone hated my plan.
That made me more confident it was probably good.
“You want to meet him alone?” Chloe asked.
“Not actually alone.”
Roman’s expression was unreadable.
Sofia looked concerned.
Dad said absolutely not seven times.
My plan was simple.
Preston believed fear would push me back toward him.
So I would let him believe he had succeeded.
I called.
He answered immediately.
“Eleanor.”
His voice was warm.
That frightened me more than anger.
“We need to talk.”
“I’ve been waiting.”
“I want this to stop.”
Silence.
Then:
“You should have thought of that before Moretti walked into our wedding.”
“Our wedding ended when you tore my dress.”
“I lost my temper.”
“You laughed.”
“I was under pressure.”
I almost admired how easily monsters renamed their behavior.
“I’ll meet you.”
“Come to my house.”
“No.”
“Afraid?”
“Yes.”
That seemed to please him.
“Where?”
“The Harbor Club.”
Public.
Cameras.
Roman’s people.
Police-friendly jurisdiction.
Preston agreed.
Roman stared at me after I hung up.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“No.”
“You smiled.”
“I realized he’s predictable.”
“That can be dangerous.”
“So can being predictable.”
He almost smiled.
At the Harbor Club, Preston arrived wearing the same charming expression that had fooled me two years earlier.
He kissed my cheek.
I allowed it.
Every instinct screamed.
We sat near the windows.
Roman was nowhere visible.
But I knew where he was.
Across the street.
Sofia had wired my bracelet.
Preston ordered wine.
I ordered water.
“You look tired.”
“Someone threatened my sister.”
He frowned beautifully.
“That’s terrible.”
I wanted to throw the glass.
Instead I lowered my eyes.
“I can’t keep doing this.”
His hand moved across the table.
I let him touch mine.
“You don’t have to.”
“What do you want?”
“You.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“Northstar?”
His fingers stopped.
Barely.
There.
Confirmation.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“My mother left me property.”
“She left you many things.”
“You tried to access her safety-deposit box.”
The smile vanished.
“Who told you?”
I looked at him.
“Does it matter?”
His hand tightened around mine.
“You’ve been spending too much time with Moretti.”
I gently pulled free.
“I found the ledger.”
That was a lie.
Technically we had found it, but Roman insisted Preston never know we actually possessed it.
Preston’s face remained calm.
His pupils did not.
“What ledger?”
“My mother’s.”
“You’re bluffing.”
“What did your father do to her?”
His jaw hardened.
“Careful.”
I whispered, “Did he kill her?”
Preston leaned toward me.
“My father built everything he had because he understood one rule.”
“What rule?”
“People who threaten powerful men eventually discover how powerless they really are.”
My pulse raced.
Not a confession.
But close.
“Is that what happened to my mother?”
He smiled.
“Your mother made many mistakes.”
Across the street, Roman was hearing every word.
I continued.
“Did Malcolm Voss kill her?”
For the first time, Preston truly reacted.
His face emptied.
Then he stood.
“Where did you hear that name?”
I had him.
I stood too.
“You know him.”
Preston caught my wrist.
People nearby looked over.
“Sit down.”
“No.”
His grip tightened.
Then a male voice came from behind him.
“She said no.”
Roman.
Of course.
Preston released me.
“You couldn’t stay away?”
Roman’s eyes moved to my wrist.
“I was invited.”
I stared at him.
“You were supposed to stay across the street.”
“You said if he touched you, I could improvise.”
“I said if I was in immediate danger.”
“I interpreted generously.”
Preston laughed bitterly.
“This is what you want now?”
He looked between us.
“A gangster?”
Roman did not react.
I did.
“I want a man who understands the word no.”
Preston’s expression changed.
He stepped closer.
“You think Moretti is different from me?”
Roman spoke quietly.
“I am.”
“You kill people.”
The restaurant went still.
Roman’s face gave nothing away.
Preston smiled.
“Didn’t tell her?”
I looked at Roman.
“Tell me what?”
Preston enjoyed every second.
“Ask your protector what happened to Elliot Crane.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“Preston.”
“Ask him.”
I did.
“Who is Elliot Crane?”
Roman did not answer.
Preston leaned toward me.
“A man who betrayed Moretti’s father.”
I looked at Roman.
“What happened?”
Roman said, “Not here.”
Preston laughed.
“He disappeared.”
Something cold moved through me.
Preston whispered:
“You traded one cage for another.”
I stepped backward.
Roman did not stop me.
That mattered.
He simply said, “I’ll tell you everything.”
Preston smiled.
“You should.”
I left.
Roman followed at a distance.
He did not touch me.
In the car, I finally turned.
“Did you kill Elliot Crane?”
“No.”
“Did your organization?”
“Yes.”
My stomach twisted.
“Your father?”
Roman looked out the window.
“Yes.”
“Did you know beforehand?”
“No.”
“Did you help cover it up?”
Silence.
Then:
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
“How old were you?”
“Twenty-three.”
“That doesn’t erase it.”
“I know.”
“Have you done worse?”
Roman’s voice was low.
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
He did not ask me to understand.
Did not offer excuses.
“I’m not Preston,” he said. “But don’t make me into something clean because I helped you.”
That honesty hurt.
But strangely, it also made me feel safer than Preston’s charm ever had.
My phone buzzed.
Sofia.
They had isolated Preston’s reaction to Malcolm Voss.
Enough to justify contacting investigators.
Then a second message arrived.
A photograph.
Malcolm Voss.
Current address.
Reno, Nevada.
Roman looked at me.
“I’ll go.”
“We.”
“Eleanor.”
“We already discussed this.”
“This man may have helped kill your mother.”
“Exactly.”
I looked at the photograph.
“I want to see his face when I ask him why.”
Roman studied me.
May you like
Then nodded once.
And two days later, we flew west to meet the man who had been paid a quarter-million dollars the week my mother died.
