Reborn to Marry the Rival Mafia Boss

Chapter Seven

The lift reached the lobby before I finished reading the alert. I tried the Bellandi portal once, in case the suspension applied only to my office computer. My password brought up the same notice. Adriana waited beside me as two employees came in through the turnstiles, saw us, and looked away.

"That didn't take him long," Adriana murmured, keeping her voice low enough that the employees couldn't hear.

"He knew I'd check on the truck." I put my phone away and walked with her toward the street doors. My father's assistant had watched us leave the conference room. She could have called him before we reached the lift.

Outside, the air smelled of rain on warm pavement. Adriana stopped beneath the building's awning and asked whether I had somewhere safe to work. The hotel was still paid for, but my father's people knew where my car had been overnight. I could change rooms later. Right now Luis was several hours down the approved road, and no one had told me the conflicting gate booking had been corrected.

"I need someone outside Bellandi to check that gate," I told her, opening the folder on my phone where I'd saved my notes. "The entries are gone from my account, but you have the numbers and the message I sent last night."

"I have those. I can request preservation of the company records today." Adriana adjusted the strap of her bag. "Who are you going to see?"

I looked across the street at the traffic waiting for the light. My grandfather had once made me sit through a meeting with Damian Vescari because a Bellandi driver and one of his had disputed access to a loading bay. I'd argued with Damian over the written schedule while Marco told me to let the men settle it. Damian had listened, checked the schedule, and moved his vehicle. I had never spoken to him alone.

"Damian Vescari," I answered, facing Adriana again. "The service entrance is near a stretch his people use. If somebody intends to blame him for a missing load, he should hear about it before the truck gets there."

"You can show him the conflicting instructions. You can't tell him who planned this yet." Adriana held my gaze until I nodded. "Don't hand over my notes or promise him access to Luis. If he wants a written statement, call me first."

"I won't give him the driver." I took her card from the side pocket of my bag and checked that her direct number was on it. "I'll tell him what he can verify."

Adriana went to prepare her request, and I crossed to the public garage. In the car, I called Tessa on her personal number. She answered after the third ring. A kettle clicked off somewhere close to her, and I realized she must have gone home after the night at dispatch.

"Your login's gone," she remarked before I could explain. "They sent a notice to supervisors saying you aren't to approve route changes. What happened in that meeting?"

"I refused the proxy. Adriana witnessed it, and my father cut my access before I got downstairs." I kept my voice even, though my hand tightened around the wheel. "You don't need to pull anything for me. I wanted to know if Luis has called since the fuel stop."

"Not yet. His next check-in isn't due for a while." Tessa moved away from the kettle. "The warning was still on his paper sheet when I left."

"If they remove it, write down when you last saw it. Don't send me a company file." I hated asking her to do even that much. Her name was already on the warning my father had overridden.

"I know how to keep a log, Sofia." Her tone softened. "Are you all right?"

"I'm working on it. Call me if Luis reports a gate change." I waited until she agreed, then let her get some sleep.

The Vescari transport office sat on the other side of the river, in a renovated brick building behind a fenced loading yard. Its address was public; getting inside was another matter. A man at the vehicle gate checked my license and directed me to a visitor space near the front entrance. Two cameras covered the path from my car to the door. I kept the folder closed inside my bag and took out my phone and identification.

At the reception desk, I gave my name to a woman in a dark green blouse. Her smile tightened before she looked at my license. One hand rested near a button beneath the counter.

"Do you have an appointment with Mr. Vescari?" she asked, glancing toward the man standing beside the inner door.

"No. I need ten minutes if he's here. It concerns a Bellandi shipment and a booking near Spur Nine." I kept both hands on the counter where she could see them.

"I can take a message." The receptionist pulled a pad toward her but did not offer me a pen.

"B-418 left our depot at four twenty this morning. The driver sheet says east terminal, and the Rinaldi gate booking says Spur Nine." I watched her write the load number. "Someone moved departure ahead of a meeting where I was meant to sign over my vote. Ask Mr. Vescari to check the gate before the truck gets there."

The man by the door came over. He had a radio clipped to his belt and a pale scar beside his ear. He asked me to step away from the desk, then positioned himself where he could see both me and the entrance. I moved to the visitor chairs without arguing.

"Who gave you that booking?" he asked, staying a few feet away.

"I saw it at dispatch yesterday. The entry came from a Rinaldi desk account. I've got the number, but my father shut off my access this morning." I took out my phone to find the notice. "The driver told our supervisor a man from the Rinaldi office called about changing gates. He asked for the instruction in writing."

The man's expression didn't shift at the driver's report. He spoke quietly into his radio, using the load number and both gate names. The receptionist looked up from her screen and then down again. I could hear a truck reversing in the yard behind the building, its warning tone faint through the glass.

Several minutes passed. I sat with my bag between my feet and watched the street through the front window. At any moment Marco could learn where I'd come. My license had been logged at the gate, and no one in this building owed me privacy. I sent Adriana a message with my location and the time I had arrived.

"What do you want us to do with this?" the security man asked when he returned from his call. He remained near the chairs instead of going back to the door.

"Find out who booked Spur Nine for tonight. Someone already called the driver about a possible gate change." I leaned forward, keeping my voice low. "If another call comes before he reaches the terminal, I want someone there to know why that matters."

"Why warn us instead of your own family?" He glanced at the phone in my hand, where Adriana's acknowledgement had just appeared.

"I did warn dispatch. My father released the truck anyway, then shut me out of the records." I showed him the suspension notice but kept hold of the phone. "That doesn't prove he ordered the bad booking. It does mean I can't rely on him to correct it."

The man read the notice without touching the screen. He asked me to wait again. I stayed seated until the inner door opened and a woman in a charcoal suit came through, followed by Damian Vescari.

He looked much as I remembered from the loading-bay dispute: dark hair cut short, sleeves buttoned at his wrists, attention fixed on whoever was speaking. He stopped when he saw me. The woman beside him studied my face, then the phone in my hand. Neither offered a greeting for the receptionist's benefit.

"Sofia Bellandi." Damian stood just inside the visitor area while the security man moved aside. "Last time we met, you made me move a truck."

"It was blocking our bay." I rose and picked up my bag. The strap had pressed a mark into my palm. "I brought the booking number. You can check it without taking my word for anything."

Damian looked toward the woman, who gave a slight nod. He opened the inner door and held it while she went through first. Then he turned back to me.

"You have ten minutes, Sofia," Damian told me, his hand still on the door. "What do you want in return?"