Chapter 7
LEONORE
I’m woken by Larissa jumping on the end of the bed.
“Larissa, we are sleeping. You know I worked late,” Nessa grumbles into her pillow beside me.
“But Leo is here,” she squeals, still jumping, her cute little red locks bouncing with each jump. She is five and a ball of energy.
“I’m awake. How about we go get breakfast and let Mom sleep?” I say to her, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.
“You don’t have to do that,” Nessa says but can hardly open her eyes. Pushing the blanket off me, I stand and open my arms for Larissa to jump into. She does it right away.
“It’s fine. We are due to catch up anyway.” I look down at Nessa. “Go to sleep. I’ll bring you back a coffee.”
“Lifesaver,” she whispers, pulls the blanket up higher, and instantly goes back to sleep. I walk out with Larissa on my hip, who is touching my hair and playing with it.
“I want hair like yours.”
I turn to her and smile.
“I want yours. Have you seen yours? It’s so stunning. You should be on TV,” I gush as I put her down. “Come on, get your shoes on and let me buy you breakfast.” I walk into the bathroom and find my toothbrush that I leave here and quickly brush my teeth and wash my face.
She doesn’t take long to dress herself. Today’s outfit is a sparkly purple tutu over zebra-stripe tights and a hot-pink leotard.
My heart bursts with love for my goddaughter.
She’s quirky and cute with her own crazy sense of style.
When I see her, I see my five-year-old self.
Before life kicked her in the teeth and all the unicorns ran away.
Before I learned that freedom was a privilege and not always a given, depending on what family you’re born into.
Larissa slides on her shoes—a pair of holographic high tops—and opens the front door, looking back at me expectantly.
I reach for my purse that I left at the counter near the door, and we walk out to my car, her little hand holding mine as she skips happily.
I struggle with affection, showing it, giving it. You name it, I struggle with it. But when it comes to Larissa, it feels natural. Even from the moment she was born, I always felt comfortable holding her. I feel guilty that I don’t come and visit them enough, but I do try to help out when I can.
We drive to a local café, and immediately Larissa tells me she wants Mickey pancakes.
They’re not on the menu, but I ask the server if she can make them anyway, and when she says yes, I give her a nice tip.
I don’t generally eat breakfast, so I just order a muffin and a coffee and sit with Larissa as she drinks her juice.
“How is school?” I ask her.
“I have two friends, Chris and Bugger,” she says, to which I raise a brow.
“Bugger is an interesting name.”
“Oh, that’s not his real name. He just always says ‘bugger,’” she says really loud in her attempt to copy him. “And now we just call him that.” She giggles, and I laugh with her. This is why I love kids. They’re so brutally honest in their innocence. And Larissa has sass, something I encourage.
We’re laughing so hard that I don’t see him until I hear him.
“The files I have on you didn’t state you had a daughter.”
I freeze at the sound of his voice and protectively move between Larissa and the man who now stands behind me and our table. My stomach sinks as I angle myself so he can’t see Larissa, and my gaze narrows.
Fuck.
Silas Vescari.
Of course.
“Is this your friend?” Larissa asks sweetly over my shoulder. My heart is racing as I look back at her. A big smile spreads across her face as she looks up at Silas, while annoyance floods every nook and cranny of my being.
“He’s just someone I work with from time to time.”
“Not cooperatively,” he says so quietly that only I can hear.
“Boy, you just don’t know when to give up, do you?” I say, not even trying to keep the irritation out of my voice as I turn on him this time. This fucking asshole.
“Call me tenacious,” he says with a smile that seems polite at first, but I can hear the venom in his tone.
“There is a long list of other things I’d rather call you first,” I mutter, and my gaze narrows on the spot of red on his collar.
Blood. He’s wearing all black, so it’s not as noticeable.
But I notice, and my blood turns cold. Is he really interrupting our breakfast after killing someone?
Probably. “You spilled ketchup on yourself.”
He looks down, his gaze narrowing, but he seems indifferent, ignoring me as he reaches past to offer Larissa his hand to shake. “Hello, what is your name?”
Every fiber in my being stands on edge. Is he threatening me?
Surely not. I don’t put it past men like this to use children to get what they want, but I didn’t take Silas to be that kind of person.
Instinctually, I know he’s not, but I never leave anything to chance. Especially when it comes to Larissa.
She beams up at him, her eyes sparkling, her cheeks shiny. “Larissa, but I make my friends call me Princess Larissa because it’s important to establish who you are to those around you,” she says like a forty-five-year-old motivational speaker in a five-year-old body. “What’s your name?”
He raises an eyebrow and looks at me, as if it was my doing that she learned to introduce herself as royalty. I casually shrug.
“My name is Silas. It’s lovely to meet you,” he says, taking her little hand to shake. I can tell he knows I’m watching him carefully. I don’t like this. I don’t like him stepping into my world like he belongs here.
I don’t like anyone getting close to what is mine to protect.
“Silas… Sil … as…” She tests his name on her lips, then smiles. “I like it.”
“Why, thank you, Princess Larissa.”
Her smile grows even bigger.
“Would you care if I joined you and your mom?” he asks her and not me.
“No,” I say at the same time Larissa says, “Oh, she isn’t my mom. She’s my god mom.”
Just then, the server walks out with her food. She gives Silas an appreciative once-over, and I want to tell the woman not to get involved with a man like this. Larissa is immediately happy with the Mickey pancake, which is shaped from chocolate sauce and some strawberries.
“You can sit,” she says around her first mouthful of pancakes.
I want to tell Silas to fuck off, but I know not to use that language around Larissa. She’s like a parrot. She’ll be testing out the word for the rest of the afternoon.
So I throw him a murderous look.
Which he ignores.
Fucking asshole.
“Thank you.” He slides into the booth beside me.
He’s dressed in black slacks and a long-sleeved black button-up shirt just enough to expose the ink winding up his wrists.
The movement catches my attention before I can stop myself.
His hands flex once he’s seated, and my gaze lingers a little too long.
I drag my gaze away quickly, pretending I’m looking elsewhere, until I look back to find his sapphire eyes are already trained on me.
“You declined my invite?” he asks me.
“Yes,” I say, reaching for my coffee and taking a sip, trying my hardest to pretend the six-foot, pure muscle beside me that smells of citrus and wood isn’t ruining my fucking day.
“May I ask why?”
He always talks so formally. Until he is threatening to kill me, that is.
“I see no reason to go. We will be working together. I do not have relationships with those I work with outside of work,” I inform him.
“Yes, I can tell. My files summarize as much, and in Valen’s words, you seem more of a ‘black cat’ with very few friends.” Ah, Valen, the man he sent with the invitation.
I think his words are meant to sting, but they don’t because they’re true.
I can count all the important things in my life on one hand.
I prefer it that way.
Because life is different when you have a lot to lose.
You’re easier to break when you love too many things.
“You research everyone?” I ask him.
“Yes, especially those I will be working with closely.”
“Closely?” I level him with a look. “I work by myself.”
“Well, until all things considered, right?”
My grip tightens around the coffee mug, my knuckles turning white. All things considered, meaning a body going missing.
“I still don’t know what happened,” I say quietly as Larissa continues to eat her pancakes. He leans back, getting more comfortable in his chair as if he has all the time in the world. His silence feels oppressive as he takes up more space. More than I’m willing to let him have.
I turn to him and grit through my teeth, trying to hush my cutting words so Larissa doesn’t hear. “I don’t appreciate being ambushed, Mr. Vescari.”
“And I don’t like—”
“Being told no. Yeah, I get that.”
He folds his arms over his chest. “I thought an ambitious woman such as yourself, who’s always in control, would be more accountable for what was lost under her care.”
It stabs where it’s meant to. I go to speak, then close my mouth. Because he’s right. But we’re still at the same conclusion. I don’t know any more than he does. And if he’s here, it means he hasn’t found anything either. Why else would he be bothering me?
Either way, this isn’t at my office, and I can’t risk being seen out in public with him by any of the other families. No exceptions made—even for Silas Vescari.
“You almost ready?” I ask Larissa even though I know she is only halfway through. But she nods her head anyway. I feel bad rushing her, but the sooner we’re out of here, the better.
“Running off so soon?” he quips.
My eyes slice to his.
“I hate company,” I say with a forced smile. “Unless it’s paid for—in my office.”
“Well, I did make a down payment for your time.” Before I can reply, he turns and looks at Larissa.
“Would you like to come to a princess-themed birthday party?” he asks her.
Larissa’s eyes go wide. And she looks at me expectantly.
This motherfucker is really trying to convince me he’s a family man.
“Can we, Leo?” she says and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Since when do we go to stranger’s houses?” I remind her, trying my hardest to keep my fucking cool around this guy. I hate how perceptive he is, using Larissa against me in such a way.
“But he’s not a stranger. His name is Silas,” she says matter-of-factly.
I give her a pointed look. “Not today, baby. Besides, your mom will be waking up soon.”
I feel his eyes on me then, and I want to punch him in each one of them for putting me in this situation. Did he do it on purpose just to show me how easy it is for him to slip into my life? Is he threatening me?
“But it’s got princesses.” Larissa pouts and her little chin quivers, and I decide it’s not too early in the morning for murder.
I look back at him to see him smirking, and I hate him.
“Just for an hour, you can meet the family. My niece doesn’t have many friends around her age, so I think she’ll love it,” he says with a smile so genuine I believe him. Except I don’t trust him.
“What part of ‘this is just business’ is confusing for you?” I ask him, gripping my coffee.
“You should accept my invite,” he pushes, and I stand, holding my hand out for Larissa to take.
I glare down at him, scathing. “I understand you have a large team.” I try my hardest to remain professional and discreet. “But I do not answer to you simply because you snap your fingers. You should accept people’s answers.”
“If I did that, I would not be where I am today,” he replies matter-of-factly. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“You said no guests,” I remind him.
“Of course, but you can bring your princess.”
“And my mom?” Larissa asks him.
He turns to her and nods his head.
“Yes, and your mother.”
“I am not going,” I inform him and turn to leave.
“I’ll see you at six. The address is on the invitation.”
His gaze drags over me before he says anything else, slow, unhurried, taking his time from top to bottom as if he’s not in a rush to hide it.
“Oh,” he adds, like it’s an afterthought. “It’s a princess party. Maybe wear something other than black.”
Something in my jaw tightens, but I don’t let it show on my face.
“You should stick to the business you know, Mr. Vescari,” I say, already turning away. I glance back just enough to land the point. “Not telling a woman what to wear.”
It goes without saying that it’s easier to wear black. The bloodstains won’t scare as many people.
And by the tilt of his lips, I’m certain he hears my thoughts and understands since he wears mostly black for the same reason.
On the way back, I pull into a drive-through to get Nessa a coffee since I left the diner without getting her one. When we pull up to the apartment, Larissa runs inside, and I hear her talking to her mother as I walk in with her coffee.
“We are going to a princess party,” she announces.
Oh shit.
Nessa looks at me, raising a brow as I hand her the coffee.
“We aren’t,” I inform her. Larissa looks back at me, and a look of sadness crosses her face. “A client who I told I do not mix business with pleasure invited me,” I tell her.
“Oh, yes. Sorry, baby, but Auntie Leo can’t go if she works with him.”
“But they were having a princess party,” Larissa says dejectedly.
“How about when I come over next, I bring a new princess dress and cake, and we can watch a princess movie together.” Nessa looks at me in surprise. “What? I like the villains in them,” I say with a casual shrug.
She looks me over once and says, “I can see it.”
“A pink cake?” Larissa is quick to negotiate, and honestly, I couldn’t be more proud.
“Pink cake it is.”