“I see. So where is it?”
“Where’s what? The photos?”
“The Moon City?”
Rafa laughed to himself and shook his head. So predictable.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Chibonelli, but I can’t tell you that. I made a promise, and I intend to keep it.”
Of course, that didn’t mean that the Moon City wouldn’t get found eventually. Or even that Vautour or Hunter might not reveal its location. Though the chances were unlikely, seeing as they were too busy hiding from international artifact-smuggling charges. People would always be searching for the Cidade da Lua, and inevitably someone else would find it, especially with the continued deforestation of the Amazon.
But for now, the secrets of the Moon City would remain lost. And Rafa would carry on in the footsteps of his mother as a member of os protetores da lua.
“Well, it certainly makes for one hell of a story. When will you be back in the office?” Mr. Chibonelli asked.
“It’s all in your email.”
“What email?”
“The one I just sent you,” Rafa said, motioning to the screen. “Check your inbox.”
Mr. Chibonelli’s face looked away from the camera as he clicked around on his screen. Rafa watched as he read the email, Mr. Chibonelli’s face turning from confused to agitated.
“What’s this?” Mr. Chibonelli asked.
“It’s my resignation letter.”
Mr. Chibonelli eyed him curiously. “I can see that, but why? Being on this expedition could open doors for you. You know that, right?”
Rafa shrugged. “Open doors how? By people trying to earn my trust in the hopes that I might slip up and tell them the location of the Moon City? And you said it yourself—it’s one hell of story. For all anyone knows, Ididmake it up.”
“Well, fictional or not, the art of storytelling is a talent not everyone has. Your account may not be true, but frankly, I don’t care. Mystery. Intrigue. Lost cities. Stuff like this sells.”
“Which is why I’m going to pursue a career writing fiction. You may not care if this story is a lie and may have no qualms about presenting it as fact inGloGeo, but I do. My whole life has been a lie. Everything I have I got because of my father. I don’t want any part of him in my life. This job included.”
“Rafael, this article might not be up to your normal standards, but you’re an award-winning journalist. Your father didn’t give you that,” Mr. Chibonelli said, exasperated.
Mr. Chibonelli would never understand. Yes, Rafa had won countless awards. Been to dozens of amazing locations. Seen and done things that most people could only dream of doing.
But those things were only made possible because of his father. Fruits of the poisonous tree.
“It’s time for me to make my own path. To figure out who I really am.”
“Time to find out who you are? Rafael, where are you going to—”
Click.
Rafa looked up at Miri standing at the side of the table with her hand shutting his laptop screen and a devilish smirk on her face.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said, smiling back at her. “You know you cut off my boss, don’t you?”
“Whoops.” Miri tilted her head to meet her raised shoulder. “Oh well, he’s your ex-boss anyway.”
Rafa let that sink in. Ex-boss. He let out a long breath, running his hands up his face and through his hair.
“Are you having second thoughts?” she asked.
“Not a single one. Come here,” he said, pulling her arm and bringing her onto his lap for a kiss. “Mmm, do we have to do anything today, or can we stay in the hotel room all day and make love half a dozen more times?”
