Page 21 of Ruin
Vincent stares at me for a moment, then he reaches into his briefcase and pulls out three more folders.
Good.
We workthrough lunch and into the afternoon.
The restaurant empties around us.
The manager doesn't ask us to leave, just keeps the wine coming and the staff at a respectful distance.
Cassius owns the building. Probably owns the manager, too.
By the third folder, Vincent has stopped testing me and started asking my opinion.
The shift is subtle. A change in the angle of his questions, the way he waits for my answer instead of immediately offering his own.
Peter catches it. I see the corner of his mouth twitch.
The third folder is a real estate development on the east side.
Luxury condos being built with laundered money, but the permits are stalled because a city councilman is holding them hostage for a bigger bribe.
"How much is he asking?" I say.
"Double what we originally agreed," Vincent says. "Two hundred thousand."
"Don't pay it."
Four sets of eyes on me. Even Paul, who's been quiet as a statue for two hours, tilts his head.
"Councilman Rivera has a son at Columbia," I say. "Pre-law. The son applied for a summer clerkship at the DA's office three weeks ago. I know because I processed the application." I pause. Let that land. "One phone call from me, and that application moves to the top of the pile. Rivera gets his son's career boosted, we get our permits, and it costs us nothing. Better—it puts Rivera in our debt instead of the other way around."
The silence this time is different. Heavier. Impressed.
"You processed the application," Vincent repeats.
"I process a lot of applications. Funny how much access a low-level assistant has to high-level futures."
Cassius hasn't spoken in twenty minutes.
He's just been sitting there, whiskey in hand, watching me work.
When I glance at him now, the expression on his face isn't surprise. It's satisfying. The look of a man whose investment just returned triple.
"Make the call," he says.
I pull out my phone. Three minutes later, the Rivera situation is handled.
No money changed hands. No threats. Just a favor, strategically placed, that ties a city councilman's family to Cassius Wolfe's organization without the councilman even realizing it.
I set my phone down. "Done."
Vincent looks at Cassius, and something passes between them.
"She'll need access to the financial systems," Vincent says. It’s less a question than an acknowledgment.
Cassius nods. "Set it up."
That's it. No ceremony. No grand declaration.
