Chapter 7 - THE TRAP WAS HERS THIS TIME
Z
For the first time since meeting Trent, Tessa wanted to see him.
Not because she missed him.
Not because she wanted closure.
Because she wanted him to look at her and understand the frightened woman he had controlled no longer existed.
Damian hated the plan.
“No.”
Evelyn folded her arms.
“It could work.”
“No.”
Carlo looked amused.
“Boss, she sounds like you.”
Damian glared at him.
Carlo stopped smiling.
Tessa sat at the conference table.
“You said my plan mattered.”
“When your plan didn’t include sitting across from Trent.”
“In a controlled location.”
“No.”
“With police nearby.”
“No.”
“Wearing a wire.”
“No.”
“Damian.”
“No.”
Evelyn sighed.
“You realize repeating the word doesn’t create legal authority.”
Damian ignored her.
Tessa leaned forward.
“He still thinks I’m afraid.”
“You are afraid.”
“Yes.”
The answer stopped him.
“I’m terrified.”
She held his gaze.
“But being afraid doesn’t mean I can’t act.”
Damian’s jaw tightened.
“He wants the $2.8 million account transferred before investigators freeze it,” she continued. “He thinks I can authorize it.”
“He’s wrong.”
“He doesn’t know that.”
Evelyn nodded.
“The bank is cooperating.”
Damian looked at her.
“You arranged this already?”
“Tessa did.”
His eyes moved back.
Tessa lifted her chin.
“I’m a bookkeeper.”
Carlo coughed to hide a laugh.
The meeting would happen at a hotel restaurant in Midtown.
Public.
Cameras.
Detectives in adjacent rooms.
Damian’s people farther away.
That final condition took twenty minutes of argument.
“Your men cannot interfere.”
“If he touches you—”
“Police handle it.”
“If he touches you—”
“Damian.”
He stood.
“I gave you my word once. He has spent a week testing exactly how much that word is worth.”
Tessa stood too.
“Then prove it’s worth something.”
The room went silent.
Damian looked wounded.
Only for a second.
Then he nodded.
“All right.”
The meeting happened at 2:00 p.m.
Trent arrived eight minutes late.
Of course he did.
He wore the navy jacket Tessa bought him two Christmases earlier.
His hair was neat.
Face clean-shaven.
To anyone watching casually, he looked like a worried boyfriend meeting a troubled woman.
“Tess.”
She remained seated.
His eyes softened.
Artificially.
“You look tired.”
“I am.”
“I heard what Rossy did to you.”
Tessa almost smiled.
“What did he do?”
“Got in your head.”
Trent sat.
“He made you believe I’m your enemy.”
“No.”
Tessa folded her hands.
“You managed that yourself.”
His jaw tightened.
Then softened again.
“I know I made mistakes.”
“Mistakes.”
“I lost my temper.”
“You strangled me.”
His eyes flicked around.
“Keep your voice down.”
There it was.
Control.
Even now.
Tessa leaned back.
“You wanted to meet.”
“Yes.”
Trent slid a folder toward her.
“Sign these.”
She didn’t touch it.
“What is it?”
“Authorization for the account.”
“Monroe Financial Holdings?”
His expression froze.
Only for a fraction of a second.
Then he smiled.
“You know.”
“I know a lot.”
“Tessa, listen to me.”
“No. You listen.”
His eyes hardened.
“You spent eighteen months watching me.”
Silence.
“You photographed me while I slept.”
“Tessa—”
“You stole my internal reports.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“You worked with Martin Kessler.”
His face lost color.
There.
She had him.
Trent leaned forward.
“You have no idea who you’re involved with.”
“Damian?”
“All of them.”
“You mean Martin?”
“Rossy will throw you away the second you become inconvenient.”
Tessa almost laughed.
“You already tried that.”
Trent’s mask slipped.
“You think he cares about you?”
“This isn’t about Damian.”
“It’s always about Damian now.”
“No.”
She leaned closer.
“This is about you.”
His eyes became flat.
The eyes she knew from nights when apologies stopped.
“You think because you’re sitting in a fancy restaurant with cops nearby you’re safe?”
Tessa’s heartbeat jumped.
She did not react.
Trent smiled.
“Yeah.”
He looked around.
“I know.”
In the surveillance room next door, detectives immediately tensed.
Tessa forced herself to stay still.
“You know what?”
“That you’re wearing a wire.”
Her blood went cold.
Trent smiled wider.
“Rossy isn’t the only person with friends.”
He stood.
The police moved.
Then the lights went out.
The restaurant plunged into darkness.
Someone screamed.
Tessa heard chairs scrape.
A hand grabbed her.
Not Trent.
Bigger.
She fought.
A cloth pressed near her face.
She turned away.
Then a body hit the floor beside her.
Another impact.
The emergency lights activated.
Red illumination filled the room.
Damian stood three feet away.
One of Trent’s hired men lay at his feet.
Damian’s fist was bleeding.
Tessa stared.
“You weren’t supposed to be here.”
He looked at her as if she had asked why gravity existed.
“Obviously.”
Trent ran toward the kitchen.
Detectives followed.
Carlo appeared from the hallway.
“Boss!”
“Stay with her.”
Damian moved after Trent.
Tessa grabbed his sleeve.
“No.”
He looked down.
“Police.”
For one second, everything inside him fought her.
Then Damian stopped.
A gunshot sounded from the kitchen.
Tessa flinched.
Damian immediately pulled her behind a stone column.
Another shot.
Then shouting.
“Police! Drop it!”
Silence.
Long.
Terrible.
Then an officer emerged.
“We’ve got him.”
Tessa’s knees weakened.
“Alive?”
The officer nodded.
“Alive.”
Damian exhaled.
Only then did Tessa realize he had been holding his breath too.
Minutes later, Trent was brought through the restaurant in handcuffs.
Blood ran from a cut above his eyebrow.
His eyes found Tessa.
Hatred.
Pure and uncomplicated.
“You did this.”
Tessa stepped forward.
Damian did not stop her.
“No.”
She looked directly at Trent.
“You did.”
Trent laughed bitterly.
“You think this is over?”
Tessa’s voice did not shake.
“For me, it is.”
Police led him away.
Outside, cameras crowded the street.
Reporters shouted.
Inside, Damian looked at Tessa.
“You’re bleeding.”
She touched her lip.
Tiny cut.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“Okay.”
That surprised him.
She smiled weakly.
“I’m learning.”
Damian looked at his own split knuckles.
“So am I.”
Three days later, Martin Kessler was arrested attempting to cross into Canada.
Miles Vardon accepted a cooperation agreement.
Financial records proved the $2.8 million transfer had been orchestrated by Trent and Kessler.
The charges expanded.
Fraud.
Stalking.
Identity theft.
Assault.
Witness intimidation.
Conspiracy.
Tessa’s name was formally cleared.
Oak Haven reopened.
Damian’s businesses survived the investigation, though not without uncomfortable questions.
One evening, Tessa entered his office carrying the restored weekly P&L report.
“Liquor costs are still up three percent,” she said.
Damian looked up.
“Tragedy.”
“I found another supplier.”
“Of course you did.”
She placed the folder down.
Neither moved.
Then Damian’s eyes drifted toward her neck.
The bruises had faded to yellow.
Almost gone.
Tessa touched them.
“This is the first day I didn’t use concealer.”
Damian’s expression softened.
“Good.”
“I almost did.”
“But?”
“I decided I was tired of hiding evidence of somebody else’s shame.”
Damian said nothing.
His gaze held hers.
She smiled.
“Six months.”
He remembered immediately.
“Tessa.”
“You said if I didn’t hate you in six months, we could talk.”
“It has been twelve days.”
“I know.”
He almost smiled.
“So?”
“So I’m giving you advance notice.”
“Of what?”
She walked toward the door.
“That I’m probably still going to find you extremely annoying in six months.”
Damian leaned back.
“Good.”
Tessa opened the door.
Behind her, his voice followed.
“Tessa?”
She turned.
“For what it’s worth…”
He hesitated.
A man feared across half of Manhattan suddenly unable to locate a sentence.
“You never needed me to save you.”
Tessa looked at him.
“No.”
May you like
Then she smiled.
“But I needed someone to stand next to me while I remembered that.”
