Unforseen circumstances

"Vince, I need to make something crystal clear," I said, meeting his gaze directly. "Despite everything I just told you about Tomas, I’ve never been involved in anything criminal. My job, working with someone like Tomas, automatically puts me on a 'check in on them on occasion' list with various agencies, just to ensure I'm always following the law. They know he’s on the straight and narrow and has been since his child was killed."

Vince nodded slowly, his expression grim. "I understand that. But after hearing all this... I can't be here anymore. Not in this building."

My heart sank. "Vince, these tickets were a gift from Tomas, so please use them. I’ll be leaving. Enjoy the show." I paused, the weight of the situation pressing down. "I cannot risk losing Tomas as a client over this. If I do, my career and my reputation are down the drain, and no one will want to hire me, not even a small-town business. My livelihood depends entirely on maintaining that relationship I have with him."

He looked conflicted, then wondered aloud, "Do you think you could turn your relationship with him back to just business instead of personal too?"

"Vince," I said, my voice softening slightly, "I get why you'd feel that way, and I appreciate you being concern about it. But here's the thing: my relationship with Tomas is crucial for my career. He built it."

"Please, just ask him," Vince urged.

Without another word, I pulled out my phone and immediately opened a text message to Tomas. I typed quickly, my fingers flying across the screen:

Hey Tomas, I shared what we agreed on with Vince. Since we both value honesty, I need to admit Vince is concerned about our personal relationship. I understand his perspective. To protect my romantic relationships—with him or anyone else for that matter—I'm wondering if our relationship could just be strictly professional going forward. I understand that by sharing this, you have the right to terminate our contract.

I hit send, the message disappearing into the ether. I looked back at Vince, the tension thick between us. Just then, two imposing figures, clearly Tomas's top security men, approached us from the side aisle.

"Ms. Smith, please come with us," one of them stated, his voice calm but leaving no room for argument.

I turned to Vince, forcing a smile. "Enjoy the concert, Vince. I'll be fine." Deep down, I knew that having security bring Tomas an employee is never a good sign. As I started to walk away, I said, "Don't worry!"

We moved through the bustling crowd, the two security men flanking me, one on each side. Their presence was subtle but undeniable, guiding me through the throngs of concert-goers. The music from the stage faded as we navigated a maze of back corridors and service elevators, eventually arriving at a discreet, unmarked door.

I knocked firmly.

"Come in," Tomas's voice called from inside.

I pushed the door open and stepped into his spacious, dimly lit office suite, leaving the security detail outside. As I walked towards Tomas's large desk, I began to dig into my purse. I pulled out the ID badge he'd given me months ago, a burner phone I knew he'd provided for secure communications in unsecure areas, and anything else I could find that he might have given me over the years, placing them all on his polished desk. I double-checked my purse, making sure I hadn't missed anything, while Tomas watched me with a confused expression.

"Ms. Smith!" Tomas said, his voice cutting through the air, cold and sharp.

I looked up at him, my gaze steady.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his confusion now laced with a hint of irritation.

"Tomas, I've seen you do this many times in the past," I replied, my voice calm despite the churning in my stomach. "This escort up here, the sudden summons... it's your way of saying my contract with you has been terminated. I'm just getting ready. I assume I'll have to sign a bazillion NDAs that last for a long time, hand in every single piece of paper with your name on it, and I can't go anywhere you own."

He let out a short, sharp laugh, a sound devoid of humor. "That is not why I brought you up to my office, Ms. Smith."

"Then why did your thugs bring me up here?" I shot back, my patience wearing thin.

He laughed again, a more genuine, amused sound this time. "My men brought you up here because I needed to get Vince's attention. He seems like a good man, and I wanted him to see that you're important to me, that you're well-connected and protected. I wanted him to understand the kind of woman he's with, and that you deserve to be treated with the utmost respect."

Tomas's expression turned serious. "You know, you're risking what you have with Vince, and with Randy for that matter, by even sending me that text."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, you know about Randy too? Of course you and your security have checked him out."

"Naturally," Tomas said, a hint of a smirk. "Now, about your question. Can our relationship go back to being strictly professional? On paper, it will be. But there will be times, Ms. Smith, when I will need our relationship to be personal. You understand."

I sighed, knowing this was the best I was going to get. "Okay," I conceded. "Can I go back down to Vince now? Unescorted?"

Tomas chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "Yes, you may. Go enjoy the rest of your evening."

I hurried back through the labyrinth of corridors, the thumping bass of the concert growing louder with each step. When I finally emerged into the arena, the main act was already well underway. I was twenty minutes late. Vince spotted me immediately, his uneasy expression melting into relief as I approached. He stood up and pulled me into a bear hug so tight I couldn't breathe. For a few seconds, the roar of the music and the singer's voice seemed to cut out, leaving a strange, muffled silence.

"Everything worked out well," I whispered into his ear during the brief lull, squeezing him back; I knew that brief silence was the work of Tomas

"Thank God," he murmured, releasing me as the sound swelled back around us.

The music and singing resumed, but trying to fully immerse ourselves in the concert was difficult. My mind kept replaying the conversation with Tomas. When I went to purchase drinks and food for us, a staff member quickly appeared, informing me that everything had already been taken care of and was being brought directly to our seats. I knew exactly who was behind that.

I pulled out my phone and quickly texted Tomas: Let me get out of this chair for a bit. Need to use the restroom.

A single word flashed back: Ok. It was terse, but I knew it meant he was acknowledging my need for a moment of normalcy, a brief escape from his pervasive influence.

After the Show

At the end of the concert, most of the attendees streamed out, but Vince and I lingered in our seats. Soon, the same two "thugs" who had brought me up to Tomas's office appeared.

"Mr. Diaz, Ms. Smith, if you'll follow us," one of them said, gesturing towards a backstage door.

Vince looked at me, a bewildered grin on his face. "What now?"

"Just go with it," I whispered, pulling him along.

They led us through another series of backstage hallways, finally opening a door into a brightly lit lounge where Bruno Mars and The Weeknd were relaxing, surrounded by their entourage. We spent a good ten minutes chatting with them, exchanging pleasantries and compliments on the show. Vince was practically glowing.

As we were about to leave, both Bruno Mars and The Weeknd presented us with several large bags of merchandise—t-shirts, hoodies, signed posters, even some limited-edition vinyl.

"Wow, this is incredible!" Vince exclaimed, his eyes wide as he looked through a bag. "I can't believe they're just giving this to us. It's insane and unexpected!"

"It's amazing, isn't it?" I agreed, picking up a signed poster.

I reached for my purse to pay, but they waved me off.

"Oh, no, please," Bruno Mars said with a warm smile. "It's a gift from us. Consider it a thank you for being such great fans tonight."

"Yeah, enjoy the swag," The Weeknd added, nodding.

I knew, deep down, it was a gift from Tomas, a final, extravagant gesture of his influence. But I would never tell Vince that. "Thank you so much," I said, genuinely touched by the gesture, regardless of its true origin. "This is truly generous."

Vince and I headed to the car, the bags of merch rustling as we settled into the back seat.

"Can you believe this night?" Vince said, still buzzing. "Front row, backstage, meeting them... this is insane, weird and unexpected!"

"It was quite the night," I agreed, already feeling the exhaustion creeping in. "A lot to process."

The drive back to my place was only about fifteen minutes, but I was out cold almost immediately. Once or twice, I was vaguely aware of being woken, hearing Vince's hushed voice tell the driver, "Keep driving, she needs the sleep. When we get to her place, I will pay you the extra money that you deserve."

I woke up properly as the car pulled into my driveway. I helped Vince grab the bags of merch, and we headed inside.

"I'm going to go up and shower then head to bed," Vince said, heading towards the stairs. “Don’t stay up too late, love.”

Once he was upstairs, I began to meticulously scan every piece of merch, running my hands over the materials, checking seams, looking for anything out of place. Nothing. But the sheer value—at least $5,000 worth—set off alarms. I pulled out my personal phone and called Darnell.

"Hey, Darnell. I know it's late, but I need your expertise," I said, my voice low. "Tomas just gifted Vince and me a ton of merch from the concert, probably five grand worth. It feels... too easy. Can you come over and scan it for anything?"

"Five grand, huh?" Darnell's voice was already alert. "Alright, I'll borrow some equipment from work and head right over. Be there in about thirty-five minutes."

Darnell arrived thirty minutes later, carrying a nondescript bag. He quickly set up a portable scanner and began running it over the merch, piece by piece. Everything came up clean.

"Looks like the merch is clear," he confirmed, packing up his gear.

"Good," I said, relieved, then hesitated. "Darnell, while you're here, can you check something else for me? The ID badge Tomas gave me, and the burner phone he provided months ago."

Darnell looked at me, a knowing glint in his eye. "You suspect something?"

"I question everything," I replied, handing him the items.

He ran the scanner over the ID badge first, then the burner phone. A small beep. He frowned, then used a specialized tool to carefully pry open a tiny section of each. "Well, well, well," he murmured, pointing to a minuscule, almost invisible chip embedded in both. "Looks like our friend Tomas likes to keep tabs." He expertly removed both chips and, without a word, crushed them under his boot heel.

"That's going to piss him off," I said, a grim satisfaction spreading through me. "But I don't care anymore."

Just as I finished speaking, my main phone rang. It was Tomas. I answered, bracing myself.

"You absolute imbecile!" Tomas roared, his voice absolutely livid, echoing through the phone. "What in God's name did you do?!"

"I lost my trust in you, Tomas," I said, my voice calm, almost detached. "When you had your thugs bring me into your office, that was it. That was the moment that I knew."

"How did you know?!" he demanded, his fury palpable. "How did you know to check everything?"

"I question everything, Tomas," I stated simply. "Always have. Always will." I took a deep breath, steeling myself. "By mid-morning, Tomas, I will be terminating my contract with you. This will keep my business and my reputation intact."

Tomas scoffed. "You think you can just walk away? You think you can—"

"Goodbye, Tomas," I interrupted, and before he could utter another word, I hung up. Immediately, I blocked his number from contacting me again.

Darnell watched me, his expression unreadable. "You just poked the bear, didn't you?"

"He's about to find out what happens when the bear pokes back," I said, a cold resolve in my voice. "You got that other thing ready?"

Darnell grinned. "Oh, it's ready. Just waiting for my friends in the news business to wake up. Within a few hours, by daybreak, Tomas will be arrested again for failure to report any major income or large purchases - the government didn't know about his yacht."

Darnell left about twenty minutes later, a silent shadow disappearing into the pre-dawn light. I took a quick shower, the warm water washing away the tension, then slipped into bed beside Vince. He stirred, instinctively pulling me into his chest, and I fell asleep almost instantly, wrapped in his comforting embrace.

Just after the first news reports hit the TV, the radio, streaming services, and newspapers, our phones began to buzz with notifications, waking us up. I took Tara's call a few minutes after waking up, the sunlight just beginning to stream through the blinds.

"You're not going to believe this," Tara's voice was a mix of shock and exhilaration. "Tomas was arrested! All of his properties, vehicles—including his yacht—and his bank accounts have been seized. The news is reporting that due to your ending the contract with him, more legitimate companies are vying to work with us than we can handle!"

"Thank you, Tara," I said, a wave of relief washing over me. "Listen, I need you to take everything off the website that has anything to do with Tomas. Send every file and piece of paper with his name on it, and the names of all his companies, directly to law enforcement. And yes, take as many of these legitimate companies as we can. We're going to be busy."

I hung up and turned to Vince, who was slowly blinking awake, his phone already vibrating on the nightstand. "What's going on?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"Vince," I said, my voice softer than I intended, "I wasn't fully truthful with you about Tomas and his business. I've actually been working with various law enforcement agencies, feeding them everything I could on him."

His eyes widened, then narrowed. "You... what?"

"Tara and my entire staff were, too," I continued, "as were many other companies that worked with Tomas. He's going back to prison."

Vince just stared at me, then shook his head. "I don't want to know. Honestly, just... I don't want to know."

"It's better that you don't," I agreed, reaching for his hand. "Look, the local news channels are on their way here now. You shouldn't be here when they arrive."

He nodded, already scrambling out of bed. "Right. Okay. I'll update Randy."

"Thank you," I said, watching him quickly gather his things. "Be safe."