“Probably late. I have client meetings until four, then I need to review contracts for a property closing next week.” Shegathered her documents into a leather portfolio. “What time is the funeral?”
“Eleven. Then there’s a reception hosted by Valentina at Carlito’s afterward.” I grimaced at the thought. Valentina would be watching everyone carefully, measuring their grief against her standards of family loyalty. “It should be over by three, if I can escape that quickly.”
“I wonder if everyone will be there?” She asked.
I knew who she meant by “everyone.” Lord. “Yes. Even those who hated him will show up to pay their respects. It’s expected.”
She nodded, understanding the unwritten rules that governed family obligations. She’d been with Lord long enough to learn how things worked, even if she’d never been fully accepted into the inner circle.
“Be careful what you say to them,” she warned.
“I always am.” I moved around the island to stand beside her, close enough to feel her warmth but not touching. “And you? Will you be careful today?”
“Of course.” She smiled faintly. “Attorney-client privilege applies to my personal life too.”
I reached out then, unable to help myself, tucking that stubborn strand of hair behind her ear. “This is complicated.”
“That’s one way to put it.” She leaned slightly into my touch. “I left because I couldn’t handle the lies anymore, and the person he was becoming. And now here I am, with you.”
“With me,” I finished when she hesitated. “Someone just as connected to that world.”
“But different,” she insisted. “You’re different with me. You’re honest about who you are, what you do. You have never lied to me.”
When I thought about it. She was right. I’d been more forthcoming with her than with anyone else; that was true. There were still things I hadn’t shared, shadows in my past shemight not be able to accept. The line between honesty and self-preservation was thin in my world.
She checked her watch and sighed. “Oh shit, I need to get going.”
I nodded, stepping back to give her space. “See you after work?”
Was this temporary shelter I was offering? Was it a hiding place, or something more? Were we building something real, or just finding comfort in two different storms?
“Yes,” she said finally. “I’ll bring dinner.”
“Thanks, I’ll be too drained to cook. All the condolences will be too much.”
“It’s just a few hours. You got this.” She cheered.
Labria finished her espresso and stood, smoothing her suit jacket with practiced hands. “Call me if you need anything. Even if it’s just to talk.”
“I will.” Though we both knew I probably wouldn’t. There would be too many people around me.
She gathered her briefcase and portfolio. I watched her transform from the vulnerable, sexy woman who’d shared my bed to the composed attorney who navigated shark-infested waters daily. It was impressive, that ability to compartmentalize.
I wondered if she saw the same in me, the shift between the man who held her at night and the Bregoli soldier who would bury his father today with dry eyes and performative words.
“Be safe,” I said quietly as she headed for the hallway. It wasn’t just a casual goodbye. In our world, safety was never guaranteed.
She paused, looking back at me with eyes that saw too much. “You too.”
Labria paused at the hallway mirror, checking her appearance one final time. I watched her adjust her collar, smooth a hand over her hair. The ritual fascinated me. Thistransformation from the woman who’d slept in my arms to the polished attorney. She caught me watching in the mirror and raised an eyebrow.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing. Just admiring the view.
She smiled, but I could see the tension in her shoulders. We were both feeling it, the pressure of the secret we were keeping.
“Remember, I’m bringing dinner to you. I’m thinking that Italian place on Charleston you like?”
