I set my phone down, thinking again about Zoe and about what—other than diamond rings—matters most to her these days. “Hey, Z?”
The buzzer for the gate goes off, and she rushes to the foyer to answer it.
I step into the hall to watch her.
Kathleen’s voice has a slight Irish lilt from all the time she’s spent in Ireland over the years. “Hello? Connor? It’s Kathleen Patrick here, it is.”
“Hi, girlfriend! Come on in,” Zoe calls into the intercom, the laughter in her voice bubbling up. She presses the button to open the gate and then hurries over to me. “Yes, C?”
“You asked me a few weeks ago how I figured out how to get the upper hand in business negotiations, and I said I learned by watching the bosses in meetings and seeing how their deals played out.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“If you want, I can try to teach you.”
That lights her up. “Oh, my God, really? That would be amazing, C. Yes!” She throws her arms around me and kisses me.
Better, I think. Here’s my Zoe.
The doorbell rings.
“And just think, if I don’t do my homework, you can make me dress up as a naughty schoolgirl when you punish me.” She winks at me as she pulls out of my arms. “I’ve gotta go. See you tonight.”
I wink at her. “Have fun, baby.”
Chapter
Three
ZOE
“Iwill tell him,” I say for the second time as the Derrick Miller, one of the newer C Crue enforcers, pulls up to C’s front gate. Miller wasn’t the one who was body-guarding me today, but he’s the one who had to drive me back, and I’m sure Connor is going to be furious.
Miller is still silent, damn him. With his build and classic good looks, at a distance he could almost pass for Trick, but, unlike Trick, he’s not a guy who cracks jokes or diffuses a tense situation. Actually, Miller is more like Anvil because his eyes can bore into you like a drill, and he can go an hour or more without saying a word.
“Can you answer me please?”
“Talk to C.”
“I am going to talk to him! I’ve said I will.” What an absolute cluster fuck. I can’t believe one little shopping trip could end in such a mess.
After pulling up to the gate, he punches in the code and does the new eye scan thing. I swear it’s like living in a secretgovernment facility sometimes. If the government ran a crime syndicate, that is.
As soon as the car is parked, I fling the car door open and hop out. I don’t make it to the castle’s front door before it opens.
C raises a hand to acknowledge and greet Derrick Miller.
Miller nods and then swings the car around and parks it. He gets out, but doesn’t come to the main house. Instead, he walks along the side path toward Anvil’s old studio apartment.
“What’s he doing?”
“Come in, Z. Let’s talk.”
My face flames. Ah, so C’s already heard about our ill-fated journey into Colombian drug cartel-land. “God damn him,” I mutter. “I was going to tell you myself!”
“You still can.” Connor’s voice is low, but his expression is as dark as midnight.
“What did Derrick Miller say?” My voice is too loud because C grimaces. I take a deep breath and blow it out. I bet Miller probably put a spin on things to cast me into the worst possible light, since I’m pretty sure he’s friends with Hornsby, who was an ineffective bodyguard today in more ways than one.
