Mob Boss’ Curvy Hostage by Lisa Lovell
Chapter Five
Sophie
I walk into work the next morning feeling amazing.
I even got a text from Ryan in the morning. I half expected never to hear from him again. Part of me would have been fine with just a one-night thing, especially since I don’t know him well at all. The other part of me is half in love with him already like some kind of crazed teenager.
I don’t have many meetings today, so I’m able to take a closer look at the transfer Ryan needs me to handle.
One hundred and fifty million dollars. He must deal in luxury real estate or something. Still, I can’t think of many places that are valued so highly. A hotel perhaps? Real estate was never my strong suit, but why would it be?
I wish I had the account numbers, but Ryan made sure not to leave them with me. He’s being oddly careful. For a moment, I wonder if he really does have ties to the Valente family. It would explain the secrecy and the large sums of money going between foreign accounts.
I stop myself before my speculations spiral out of control. It’s not my place to ask questions.
I set about researching the most efficient way to transfer an amount of that size, but without knowing the countries the accounts belong to, I’m limited in what I can do. Most banks impose a strict limit that is far smaller than the total sum. It could take weeks to get the entire amount transferred.
That’s not good enough.
Ryan said this was time-sensitive. It’s not my place to know why, yet I can’t help but wonder.
The whole thing reeks of something illegal. Why go through the trouble of using a local bank? It will quite literally leave a trail. Without more information, I can’t do anything for Ryan until he schedules a meeting and gives me something to work with.
A knock on the door brings me out of my rabbit hole. Diane pokes her head in.
“I have a question for you,” she says.
“Come in.” I close out the eight different tabs I have open on the computer. “What’s up?”
“Two questions, actually. One, have they filled your old position yet?”
“No,” I reply. “And frankly, they probably won’t. I basically did Amy’s job for her. Now I take her meetings as well. My workload has barely changed.”
“Wow, that’s fucked up. And I have three questions, not two. Three will probably turn into four.”
“You don’t have to make a formal request for each question,” I chuckle, “just talk. I don’t have much on the books today.”
“Where did you go last night?” Diane’s eyes light up with mischief. “You strutted your stuff through the lobby and got into a hired car!”
“How do you know about that? You weren’t even here,” I ask.
“My mani-pedi pal, Joanie, took over for one of the tellers yesterday. She saw you. You’re busted, bitch. Spill.”
“Fine!” I put my hands up in surrender. “I went on a date.”
“No way!” Diane’s squeal makes me cover my ears. “Who did you go with? Austin from the payroll department has always had an eye on you. Did that chicken shit finally make his move?”
“It wasn’t Austin,” I shake my head. “It wasn’t anyone who works here.”
“How did you meet him? What’s his name?”
I hesitate. Diane is a good friend, but she’s also a gossip. Dating clients is seriously frowned upon in the upper ranks of the bank.
“I can’t tell you either of those things,” I say with a pointed look.
Diane looks confused for a moment before her eyes widen with understanding. “I see. Tell me just about the date, then. Where did you go?”
“Katya’s,” I say on a breath of relief. “Have you heard of it?”
“It’s it that swanky Russian place that charges a thousand bucks for a tiny spoonful of fish eggs?”
“Yes!”
“Did you see any of the Valente’s? I hear they love that spot.”
“I wouldn’t know a Valente if one came up to me with a gun in hand,” I chuckle. “I have more to tell you, but we shouldn’t talk about it here.” I give her a sly wink.
“You did something naughty, didn’t you?” Diane giggles. “Shall we take an early lunch and dish about it?”
“Absolutely. I’ll meet you downstairs?”
“Sure thing!” Diane practically skips out of the office. I grab my purse and start digging for my wallet, but I can’t seem to find it. My fingers brush against unfamiliar leather. When I pull it out of my purse, I find myself holding a wallet that is definitely not mine.
The square, thick wallet is about to burst open. It’s stuffed with cash. All one-hundred-dollar bills tucked away in a stack that must be near an inch in thickness. How much money is that? Who carries that kind of cash around in their wallet?
The credit cards are all black, thick, and heavy. Top tier cards from different banks. Most of the names aren’t in English. I spy cards from China, Japan, Russia, France, Italy, Switzerland, and a half dozen more I can’t identify.
Even more interesting, I don’t see any form of ID. This wallet obviously isn’t mine. How could it have gotten in my purse?
Oh, shit.
Ryan’s car. I shoved everything in my purse without looking. This must be his wallet. At least, I’ll have an excuse to call him.
As I straighten everything to make sure it looks exactly the way it did when I found it, my fingers catch on a secret fold. Inside, is a driver’s license and several small, handwritten notes. I remove the license, just to make sure this wallet is most definitely Ryan’s. That’s when I discover not just one license, but three. All with different faces and names.
None of them belong to Ryan, but this must be Ryan’s wallet. No one else’s wallet could have gotten into my purse.
For a moment, I hesitate. Something weird is obviously going on. Who carries around three fake IDs like this? And all that cash?
What if Ryan is in danger or he’s being blackmailed?
A chilling thought enters my mind.
What if he works for the Valentes?