Page 36 of The Fixer
Rosa tries to pull away, and his grip on her tightens.
I dig my nails into my palm. “Who is he?”
“His name is Simon Groff,” Tomas says. “He co-owns the gym along with Alina Zuccaro. The two of them dated for three months two years ago, shortly after her mother died. Groff somehow convinced Alina to invest her life savings plus her inheritance into the purchase of this gym. He’s not interested in running it. He leads two sparsely attended classes a week while she runs twenty, but it’s his name on the storefront.” Tomas sounds disgusted. “According to Valentina, Alina’s been trying to buy Groff out, but he wants more than a million euros for his share, and it’s not even worth half that.”
“Let me guess: he likes to use the gym as a way to prey on women.”
“Looks that way. Last year, one of his students complained about him. Two days later, a video of her having sex with her boyfriend ended up on the Internet. It was a mess. The boyfriend was a married high school principal. He accused his girlfriend of leaking the video to ruin his marriage, she got firedfrom her job and had a nervous breakdown, and in the tumult, Simon Groff was conveniently forgotten.”
I’ve heard enough. “Where is he right now?”
“He finishes with a class in twenty minutes.”
I get to my feet and roll up my sleeves. “Good. I think I’ll pay him a visit.”
My rage buildsas I walk to the gym, that video playing over and over in my head. Rosa’s acute discomfort as Groff encroached into her personal space, her flinch when he put his hands on her.
He touched my fiancée without permission.
He made her uncomfortable in a space that brings her joy.
He is going to regret it.
The class is over by the time I get to Dorsoduro, but a handful of guys linger, surrounding Groff and laughing at something on his phone. I slam the door shut behind me, and their heads snap up. “I want to talk to Groff,” I say flatly. “Everyone else—get out.”
They’re all wannabe MMA fighters, but theymust hear the danger in my voice or see it in my face because, after a short moment of hesitation, they flee.
“What the—?” Groff begins. “Who are?—”
That’s all he manages before I cross the room, grab him by the jacket, and slam him into the wall. I jam my forearm against his throat to shut him up. “I’m going to do the talking,” I say conversationally, “and you are going to listen. You harassed my fiancée, Rosa. And, from what I hear, she’s not the first one.”
He tries to twist out of my grip, and I let go of his neck and hammer a vicious punch into his gut. The breath whooshes out of him, and he collapses on the floor. “I’m going to say this just once, so listen carefully. You speak one word to Rosa, and I will cut out your tongue. You look at her covetously, and I’ll gouge your eyes out. You lay your hands on her again, and that’ll be the last thing you ever do.” I snap a kick into his side, think about it for a second, and break both his wrists for good measure. “Is that clear?”
20
ROSA
Idon’t see Leo for the rest of Thursday. I do hear from Daniel Rossi, though. The lawyer calls me shortly after lunch. “Leo told me you were busy tomorrow,” he says. “I’m in your neighborhood now. Do you have a few minutes?”
The boutique isn’t busy. “Sure,” I reply. “Come on by.”
He shows up ten minutes later. “Congratulations on your upcoming marriage.” He opens his briefcase and pulls out a thick folder. “These are for you.”
That’s a lot of paperwork. “Should I get my own lawyer to look through the prenup?” I joke. A few years ago, my landlord was jerking me around, and Valentina asked Daniel to help out. By the time he was done, my landlord was ready to offer meanything as long as it got my lawyer off his case. “After all, I know how you feel about your clients signing anything before you’ve had a chance to review it.”
“I’m always going to advise you to get your own counsel,” he replies. “But in this case, there’s nothing to sign. There’s no prenup.”
I gape at him. “What do you mean, there isn’t one? Leo needs to get one to protect his interests.”
“Not according to him, he doesn’t.” He opens the folder and starts handing me documents. “Bank account details,” he says. “You’ve been added as a joint holder on his account. Life insurance policy, Leo’s updated will, listing you as the sole beneficiary. . . Oh, and this.”
Thisbeing a black credit card, similar to the one Leo whipped out at the jewelry store. I stare at it blankly, struggling to make sense of what’s happening. “What’s the limit on this thing?” I splutter.
Daniel looks like he’s trying not to laugh at me. “There isn’t one.” He shuts his briefcase and prepares to leave. “Have a nice afternoon, Rosa.”
Leo is nowhereto be seen Friday morning either, so I can’t yell at him about Daniel’s visit. I eat breakfast alone, drink a couple of cups of coffee, then shower, get dressed, and walk to work. The streets are packed with tourists, and I have to struggle to get through the throngs. I get bumped more than once, the last time hard enough that I drop my phone on the ground. Whoever hit me doesn’t even bother to apologize. Muttering a curse, I grab my phone and hurry into my boutique.
Gisele is already there. “What’s wrong?” she asks.