The Enforcer or The Mafia Prince

Chapter 35

Tristan escorted Jessica back to her condo before returning to his own. Jess stood under scalding water, letting her warm shower soothe her aching muscles. She thought about Declan. Had it only been mere hours since he left? Was he on his flight already?

Jess shook her thoughts away and washed her body, careful not to get her hair wet. She didn't want to damage her hair by overwashing and styling. When Jess got out, she French braided her hair. The effort was harder than she imagined it'd be; her arms burned by the time she finished. Jessica loved her new layers but frowned at the tufts of hair that stuck out of her braid. It'd have to do. She had more work in the gym today and didn't have the time to worry about her hair.

Tristan returned before Jess finished getting dressed. He looked handsome in his typical black-on-black ensemble, with his long hair swept to the side. Jess strutted into the living room wearing a cream bow-tie blouse and gray pencil skirt. As they left, Jessica caught their image in the mirror across from the door. They fit well together, a pair of young professionals, almost regal. The meeting with the legal team was down on the first floor, not far from Ciaran's office.

"After the meeting, should we see your dad," Jessica asked Tristan.

"What for?" The idea of spending more time than necessary with his father was not a thrilling idea.

"Because he's your dad," Jessica asked.

"That's not necessary." Tristan didn't look toward his father's door. He kept walking down the hall to the conference rooms.

"I wanted to ask him if I could visit my mom on Friday. It's an extra weekend, but I'm off from school this week, so I wanted to add it in."

"Oh, I'll text him." Tristan wasn't watching where he was going as he fiddled with his phone. He didn't need to. Years spent traversing this floor had it ingrained in his memory. Anyone who saw him would move out of the way before Tristan bumped into them. Almost as soon as Tristan sent the message, his phone pinged. He checked it and frowned.

"Dad wants to have lunch after our meeting," he told Jessica. It wasn't her fault, Tristan knew, but he didn't enjoy time with Ciaran. Seeing his sour face, Jessica felt guilty. She looped her arm in his, hoping it'd make him feel better.

The meeting with the legal team went much worse than Jessica had hoped.

"Are you seriously telling me that I cannot press charges?" Jessica didn't raise her voice, but anger radiated from her side of the table. The three male attorneys across from her leaned away. No one seemed to notice how Jess's power made the men cower away, but Tristan did. Once again, Jess's ability to hold her own left him in awe.

"We're not saying you can't press charges. If that's what you want to do, then that's your right." One of the lawyers, wearing an ugly paisley tie, tried to calm Jess.

"Right," his colleague continued. "If you want to press charges, we can turn over all the evidence. It's just that if you do press charges, the county prosecutor will handle your case. Not us. We can't guarantee there's enough proof to have the prosecutor file charges."

"We have my statement, Declan's statement, the university security's report, and two witnesses. What more could you need?" The conversation baffled Jessica. The attorney that hadn't spoken looked over to Tristan and back to Jessica. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again.

"What is it, Mr. Chase," Tristan asked. Mr. Chase sighed.

"We're on your side, Mr. O'Sullivan. We can help Ms. Hernandez file charges if she likes. We can also file a civil case on her behalf to try to win damages from Mr. Boerson. Yet, we've concluded that neither will amount to much. Despite Mr. Boerson's history of behavior, the prosecutor might not see the benefit to try the case. In regards to civil litigation, Ms. Hernandez hasn't lost anything to recoup." Mr. Chase looked like every word was painful to say. Yet Jessica appreciated his candor.

"What, then," she asked, "do you suggest I do?"

"We can arrange to meet with Mr. Boerson. Either with him, his legal team, or even his father. The Boersons have a reputation to protect and might be amenable to settling this issue out of court." Mr. Chase finished his sentence and let the room sit in silence. He hated giving bad news to his clients; it was the worst part of his job.

Jessica said she'd consider the team's suggestion and called the meeting to an end. She'd rather have lunch with Ciaran than discuss the issue with Greg further. Nothing would come of it. Jessica left the conference room in a huff. Without waiting for Tristan, she marched to Ciaran's office.

"I'm certain I want to get a restraining order," Jessica said as she bit into her grilled tofu. Ciaran nodded while eating his fish. He'd ordered ahead when Tristan texted him.

The spread on Ciaran's dining table was impressive. The chef had pulled out all the stops. Tristan looked at his father's display of power and bit his tongue. Many would believe that Ciaran was being hospitable or showing off his wealth. Tristan knew otherwise. His father was showing off for Jessica, but to what end, he wasn't sure. It wasn't common to see a meal that extensive in such a short amount of time.

Ciaran dabbed at his mouth. He replied, "I hadn't realized that the young man causing you so much grief was the son of Mr. Boerson. I could have a word with the man."

Tristan looked up and Jessica. He gave her a look of warning so fleeting that it was almost imperceptible. The last thing she'd want to do is owe Ciaran herself. For now, they were on even footing. Well, as balanced as Jessica could hope for. Owing Ciaran would make her situation much worse.

"Dad, I've already promised Jessica I will help in any way I can. I could meet with him," Tristan said.

"As you should. To the world, you are her boyfriend, and I'd expect nothing less from you. It is your duty as her partner to take care of her," Ciaran lectured. Jessica looked at Tristan and saw his knuckles whiten around his fork. He said nothing in reply.

"If anyone speaks to him, I'd like to do it myself. While I appreciate the help, I don't want the Boersons to think that I can't fight my own battles. Mr. O'Sullivan," Jessica said.

"Jessica, I've already asked you to call me Ciaran," the older man interrupted.

"Sorry, yes, Ciaran. What can you tell me about Mr. Boerson, Greg's father?"

Jessica took a bite while looking at Ciaran. He rolled his blue eyes and said, "Mr. Boerson. Well, Bill coddles his son and hides his proclivities from him, as I understand it. To the public, their family business is upstanding and has no ties to any scandals. Even so, it's impossible to run such a large corporation without at least some skeletons in the closet."

"Interesting." Jessica unfocused her eyes, contemplating Ciaran's words.

"Of course, we've done business together. I don't consider Bill an intelligent man, cunning, maybe, but not intelligent."

"Why do you say so," Jess asked, still caught in her stare.

"The Boersons made their fortune off the backs of others. Those individuals have long since disappeared. It's unclear what happened to them."

"When was this?"

"It would have been decades ago. Mr. Boerson is older than me. This would have been in his twenties, so the eighties. The Boersons started a modest company that manufactured medical equipment and devices. Now their name is ubiquitous for any and all hospital equipment."

"So, what did Mr. Boerson do that you'd consider stupid?"

Ciaran studied Jessica as he chewed and contemplated his reply. Dressed as she was, he could tell she would be a good fit for Tristan and had a good head on her shoulders. The picture of the trio having lunch would be a nice photo op if he thought the children would agree to it. Ciaran rarely laid out all his cards on the table but took a gamble. If it paid off and Jessica began to trust him, he'd be able to solidify his plans that much quicker.

"My father worked with Bill and Bill's father. In the eighties, things were very different. Early in the decade, there was widespread cocaine use and the start of the AIDS epidemic. The Boersons made a lot of money off many sick and dying individuals. They'd have their lackeys sell drugs amongst the elite of Chicago. At the same time, undercutting many safety practices for their products. I won't go into details; it's complicated enough. Still, they had evidence that their products weren't safe and did nothing to fix the issue. Their substandard products and drug sales made their company the familiar brand it is today. Of course, they don't do those things now. It'd be too hard to get away with, for one, but the Boerson company has a dark history."

"And Bill? You said that his son doesn't know his proclivities."

"Yes, well, Bill is an upstanding member of the community. Married with one son and appears to be the epitome of the traditional American family. What he keeps hidden from the rest of the world is that he keeps a young male lover on the side. About his son's age. If this went public, Bill would lose the image he's spent decades cultivating."

"How do you know this, then?"

"He has a tab at one of our establishments. A members-only club of sorts, if you will."

"I'll take that into consideration then," Jessica replied.

Jessica couldn't say that lunch with Ciaran was a pleasant experience. But she did walk away with some useful knowledge and Ciaran's approval to visit her mom on Friday. A game plan to deal with the Boersons began formulating in her mind as Jessica returned to the gym.