Chapter 4 - The Don's Table
"Sit down," Don Rossi commanded, waving his hand toward the two velvet chairs directly opposite him. "Both of you. Larkin, pour your girl some champagne. The vintage ninety-six. She has more spine than half the men collecting envelopes on the West Side."
Larkin released the tension in his shoulders and pulled out my chair. As I sat, the slit of my dress fell naturally, revealing just enough leg to keep every eye at the table off balance. Larkin sat beside me, his thigh brushing against mine beneath the low table. He poured the champagne with steady hands, handing me the flute.
"To accurate bookkeeping," Rossi toasted, raising his glass.
I touched my glass to his, the crystal ringing clear and sharp. "To mutual accountability, Don Rossi."
Rossi took a slow sip, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Larkin, you came here tonight to talk about the harbor project. The city council is dragging its feet on the permits, and the port authority is demanding an additional ten percent cut. My associates tell me your numbers don't add up."
Larkin set his glass down. "The harbor project is fully funded, Don Rossi. The delays are political, not financial."
"That's not what Thomas told me twenty minutes ago," Rossi said, his tone cooling instantly. "Thomas said you've overextended your credit lines in the Caribbean. He suggested that maybe Steves Global is no longer capable of handling the southern terminal."
I felt the sudden drop in the room’s temperature. This was the trap. Thomas hadn't just intended to humiliate me tonight—he had intended to execute a corporate coup against Larkin right in front of the commission. My humiliation was supposed to be the opening act, throwing Larkin off-balance before the kill.
Larkin leaned forward, his voice hard. "Thomas doesn't have access to the primary ledger. He's talking out of turn."
"Perhaps," Rossi countered, leaning back. "Or perhaps he sees what I see: a young man whose empire is becoming too chaotic to trust with eighty million dollars of our joint capital."
Before Larkin could counter, I placed my glass on the table with a soft, deliberate *clink*.
"If I may, Don Rossi," I spoke up, my voice cutting through the tension like a scalpel.
Larkin’s head snapped toward me, a silent warning in his eyes: *Don't push your luck.*
I ignored him.
"Thomas based his assessment on the quarterly audit filed under Steves Holdings LLC," I said, leaning forward slightly, locking my eyes with the old Don. "What he failed to mention—or perhaps failed to comprehend—is that the Caribbean credit lines were retired three weeks ago through an automated debt-swap utilizing European commercial paper."
Rossi’s silver eyebrows twitched. "Go on."
"The harbor project isn't overextended. It’s sitting on forty-two million dollars in liquid cash reserves held in non-custodial Swiss escrow accounts under the name Vance & Steves Advisory," I continued, speaking with effortless authority. "Furthermore, the port authority's demands are void. The commissioner signed an exclusivity rider six months ago in exchange for our logistics software integration. If Thomas had bothered to read section four of the municipal filing, he would know that the city cannot legally withhold those permits without incurring a twelve-million-dollar breach penalty."
I paused, offering a faint, dangerous smile.
May you like
"So, Don Rossi, the southern terminal is not only secure—it will begin yielding returns forty-five days ahead of schedule. Unless, of course, you prefer to trust the business acumen of a man who still thinks offshore accounts are hidden under mattresses."
***
