I breathed easier but started to feel a tightness in my chest when I looked up at the building. For so long, this place had been my home, my safe place, and the last time I’d been here, I’d run from it.
Even though butterflies erupted in my stomach at the thought of going inside, it wasn’t because of the memories. It was because I realized how my road to Nazzareno had started here.
Walking up the steps, attempting to avoid tourists taking their pictures, some with umbrellas, some not, I touched the keycard to the device, and it allowed me right in.
The hustle and bustle. The sense of purpose. The smell of lingering ink.
It all greeted me at once.
All but Parker Bowles. He was staring at me with a scowl on his face.
I lifted my eyebrows at him and opened my arms. “What? No love for your long-lost co-worker, Bowles?”
He sneered at me. “Long-lost? I’d say you haven’t been gone long enough.”
“How long are we talking? Eternity?”
“Not long enough.”
“I see you’re still an asshole.”
“You’re still a bitch, but with a nicer haircut and clothes.”
“Well…they say clothes don’t make the man, and you should listen. Not even nice clothes could hide the ugly heart underneath.”
He walked toward me and got close to my face. “You’re not getting this place, Nash,” he whispered. “I’ll make sure of it.”
I waved a hand in front of my face. “You eat a shit sandwich for lunch, Bowels?”
“This isn’t over, Nash.” He motioned between the two of us.
“I’m sure,” I said. “You’ll let Nemours back in to do your dirty work.”
“I didn’t say that.” He lifted his hands as he walked backwards. “You did. His name didn’t come out of my mouth.” He saluted me and went in the direction of his office.
I checked my watch. Joe was late. No surprise. Death didn’t wait.
In the meantime, Edna deserved an explanation from me, and maybe something better than a hug. A recap of my time with the Fausti family—rules aside.
I stood taller, squared my shoulders, and knocked on her office door.
She didn’t answer.
I knocked again and still no answer.
A few seconds later, I rapped on her door with my knuckle as I opened it.
She was sitting at her desk, her chin resting on her stacked hands, gazing at the charming man sitting across from her as Glenn Miller crooned softly in the background.
When it felt like the entire world was changing from my new point of view, Edna looked the same to me. If she spent the rest of her life at her desk, she always would.
The man sitting across from her—he was as familiar to me as my bones, too, but the look in his olive-green eyes had changed.
It was…hotter than it had ever been, and lacking trust. His depth, leading to his vulnerability, was closed, officially locking me out.
He smiled at me, teeth and all, and I took a step back.
He fixed his custom-made suit and stood, a towering form eerily like the one in the picture on the wall, and finally, Edna saw me.
