My pulse kicked hard, a drum in my throat. The coat smelled like cedar and a hint of his last espresso. I swallowed heat, felt it roll through me, fierce and sudden. We kept still in that pocket of day, breath clouding, eyes locked, neither moving away.
"I'm warm enough," I managed.
"Keep it anyway," he said, voice hoarse.
Bruno's knuckles grazed my collar. Sparks. I drew a slow breath, and flashbacks from that drunken night in California chose that moment to come back in sharp detail. As one image after another of us in bed surfaced, I looked into his eyes. He gave a slight smile, the kind that carried a question neither of us wanted to ask. The air tightened between us until a laugh from down the block snapped the moment apart. He stepped back an inch, leaving a cool space where his warmth had been and a thought of what might have happened if he had stayed close.
"Where is your coat?"
"What are you doing here? I thought you went back to California."
The light changed, so Bruno and I started walking.
He carried an uncertain look.
"I spoke to James and my father. I know you helped me."
"Why didn't you call me? My brother works for the FBI, and I was closer." Bruno looked pained, and I felt guilty for not even considering it.
"I just kicked you out of my life again. What the hell would it look like asking for help?"
"I would've still helped you. I'd never say no."
For a while, we walked side by side on the busy winter sidewalks of New York, our breath fogging in the air as we talked, oblivious to the city rushing past.
Curiosity got the best of me, and I stopped in the middle of the street. "How did you handle James?"
"I recorded him confessing to the blackmail. He's a fucking idiot. Your father had his connections fire his mother and sister from their jobs. Your dad started working the minute you told him," Bruno said.
I nodded slowly. That's why I'd called him. Regardless of what I said or did, I was his flesh and blood.
"Mr. Ortega paid in full and moved to close on the building James rents. His lawyers rushed the paperwork, and the mortgage on the man's family home is already in your father's portfolio. Most people spend weeks waiting for that kind of approval, but he had it finalized in two days. That is the speed money and influence can buy."
My eyes widened as I listened to him go on.
"And yesterday, the cybersecurity firm he hired finished erasing every file James kept on you. They charged a fortune—worth every cent," Bruno finished.
"Wow, you two really worked well together," I muttered.
He looked apprehensive. "I know you have a complicated relationship with him, but you're still his daughter."
I pressed my lips together. "The relationship between my father and me only rivals ours. Neither of you had to help, but you did."
He shook his head like there was no need for me to say anything, but I wasn't going to cop out or run. "Bruno, thank you. You really saved me from a hell I created myself."
"And?"
I knew what he wanted. It's what my parents, Demetria, and now I'm starting to think I should do deep down—to give us a second chance. "Nothing else has changed."
"Yes, it has. Listen, I understand you are a numbers person, and statistically, men who cheat do it again, but the probability isn't one hundred percent."
I chuckled and continued walking, trying to gather my thoughts.
"I'm not leaving."
"Really? Can you work at Greenslate all the way from New York?"
"I'll resign if they won't let me work remotely. If I'm going to chase you properly, I need to be in the state. Maybe even the same building. Are there any condos for sale in yours?"
