The Man They Feared

I called Dominic before I replied to Adrian.

His phone went to voicemail.

"Someone sent me a picture of an instruction about me," I said. "It looks as though you were looking for me before we met. I need you to call me."

Then I forwarded the messages.

For the next hour, I worked. I measured blood pressure, fetched water, and explained a discharge instruction twice. Everything familiar felt slightly out of reach, like trying to button a shirt with numb fingers.

At the end of my shift, Adrian called.

"I realize that was upsetting," he said.

"Then you should have considered explaining yourself before sending it."

"I didn't want to put more in writing. I'm across the street at Bellini's. We could talk for ten minutes. Public place. You can leave whenever you like."

I stood by the staff entrance, watching people pass through the glass doors.

"If you have information about my family, you can send it to me."

"Thomas worked for Dominic's father. He helped prepare those records. Your parents haven't told you that?"

I said nothing.

"I knew him, Emma. I'm trying to prevent you from making his mistake."

My father's older brother had died when I was fourteen. I remembered a quiet man who brought books on my birthday and could never stay long. Nobody had connected him to the Morettis.

"What mistake?"

"Believing he could trust somebody because they'd been kind to him."

Anger pushed through the shock.

"Ten minutes," I said. "In the dining room."

I messaged Dominic and Lena where I was going. Lena called immediately, furious.

"I'm not sneaking into an alley," I told her. "I'm going to a restaurant full of people who know him."

"Being visible doesn't make him honest."

"I know."

She made me promise to call afterward. I crossed the street with my phone in my hand.

Adrian waited at a table near the front window. He stood, but I sat before he could touch my chair.

"No drink," I said when he reached for the water jug. "Just tell me why you contacted me."

His expression tightened for a moment.

"Your grandmother took papers that didn't belong to her. Dominic has been trying to recover them."

"From me?"

"From whoever had them. You were an obvious possibility."

"Why?"

"You were close to her. She trusted you."

"I was sixteen when she died."

"And you're an adult now. An adult who can understand how damaging old allegations might be if they're taken out of context."

There it was. The concern shifting direction.

I placed my phone on the table. "Are you warning me about Dominic, or asking me to help him?"

Adrian folded his hands.

"I think we can resolve this without anyone getting hurt. If you know where the papers are, let me review them. I can tell you what's relevant and what isn't."

"No."

He exhaled through his nose.

"Your uncle made things unnecessarily difficult too."

My chair scraped backward.

Adrian reached across the table and caught my wrist.

"Listen to me before you make a scene."

"Let go."

He did, but only after a beat long enough for fear to find its way through the anger.

I stood.

Dominic was at the entrance.

I hadn't heard the door. I hadn't seen him cross the pavement. Now the hostess was stepping out of his way, and the expression on his face made the room around us seem terribly fragile.

Adrian rose slowly.

"Dominic, I was explaining—"

"I saw your hand."

His voice was almost conversational. Adrian's face lost color.

Dominic stopped beside me. He looked first at my wrist, then at my face.

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

He nodded once and turned back.

"You had her number from the contact list. You had the photograph from my files. Now you've put your hands on her in my restaurant. Which part would you like to explain first?"

Adrian glanced toward the other diners.

"This isn't the place."

"You chose it."

The man from the sedan appeared near the bar. He didn't approach. He simply stood where Adrian could see him.

For the first time, I understood how Dominic could frighten someone without shouting. His stillness wasn't uncertainty. He was watching a man work out how little room remained around him.

"I was trying to help you," Adrian said.

"Then you'll find it easy to stop contacting Emma. You'll leave the building now. You'll speak to my counsel tomorrow. You won't enter any of my offices until I say otherwise."

Adrian swallowed. "You need to hear what I have."

"I will. Tomorrow."

He held Adrian's gaze until the older man stepped around his chair.

As Adrian passed me, he opened his mouth.

"Don't," Dominic said.

Adrian left without another word.

I stood gripping my bag. A waiter quietly righted the chair I had knocked sideways.

Dominic turned back to me, and the change in his face was almost unbearable.

"Emma—"

"Is the instruction real?"

He glanced at my phone.

"The date isn't. The instruction is. I asked for confirmation of who you were after we met."

The noise of the restaurant returned all at once.

"You investigated me."

"I had your identity checked."

"Don't make it sound smaller. What did they give you?"

He went very still.

"Your employment. Your address. Confirmation of your family."

"My address."

"Yes."

"Before I invited you home."

He didn't answer. He didn't have to.

"Did you follow me?"

"No. Nobody followed you."

"Did you intend to tell me?"

His silence hurt more than an argument would have.

I picked up my phone.

"You let me believe I was deciding what to give you. All that time, you already had information I hadn't chosen to share."

"I wanted to know whether anyone had approached you about Margaret. Whether you were in danger."

"And whether I had something you wanted?"

His jaw tightened.

"At first, I wondered whether you knew about the records. Yes."

I stepped back.

"Thank you for answering."

"Please don't leave like this."

"You don't get to choose how I leave."

The words struck him. I saw it.

I walked past him to the door.

He didn't stop me. Outside, while I waited for my car, the restaurant door remained closed.

For once, he had let me do exactly what I asked.

It didn't feel like a victory.