Chapter Thirteen
My palms turned slick as I stood outside Stubbe’s Palace and peered up at the twenty-fifth floor. Somewhere high above, Giovanni was probably enjoying the world’s finest liquor without a worry in the world.
But one thing I’d learned in my time as a journalist was that the people who seemed like they had nothing to hide often had more skeletons in their closet than most. Despite his laid-back attitude and gift of gab, Giovanni seemed like the type.
Maybe he’d played dumb on purpose the first time I talked to him to throw me off his trail, or maybe he hoped all his impressive riches would distract me enough not to ask hard-hitting questions. Whatever he’d thought, he was wrong.
I barrelled through the revolving door and exhaled with it as I spilled into the entrance, rep
