“It is serious. Azula makes fun of me for it all the time.” She laughs and I realize this is the first time I’ve ever seen her so relaxed. It’s a refreshing look for her.
“Well, we can’t have that now, can we. Let me show you.” I pull apart two chopsticks and take her right hand into mine.
“How’d you know I’m right-handed?”
“It’s the hand you used when you took down that assassin at the banquet,” I comment, taking in how small her hand looks cradled in my palm. “So, you want to place one stick in the space between your thumb and your index. This one is going to be stationary and there for support. Now, this other chopstick you want to hold like a pencil and use it to grab your food. Just take a second to get used to how that feels.”
I pull back and relish the deep concentration of her face as she laser focuses on her hand. A minute later, she pulls out a dumpling from the take-out container and places it on her plate. “Damn, I can’t believe that actually worked. You’re a pretty good teacher,” she teases.
“Well, I benefited from having a student who’s a quick learner, so.” I wink, dumping a heap of Pad Thai onto my plate. We eat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before I decide to shift the conversation to the main reason we’re having dinner tonight. “Are you okay to talk about the banquet shooter?”
She nods.
“We were able to find out more information about his past than his present. He worked as a paid guard for a few years, then for the federal government, handling the deportation of immigrants. Seems like he got some sadistic joy out of separating families?—”
“I should have put an extra bullet or two in his head just for that,” Zahra growls, and I have the sudden urge to find everyone who’s ever crossed her just so I can watch her get revenge.
“He quit his government job over a year ago and there’s no record of what he does now. We would’ve written him off as any other enemy to our mafia, or even an incel who wanted to brag about killing a powerful woman to his friends…if it weren’t for the vulture tattoo on his chest.”
Zahra stills. “A vulture? Like the man who tried to poison me at The Black Rose?”
“The tattoos were identical. Even the ink was manufactured by the same company. We had our coroner run a bunch of tests once we saw the similarities.”
Her expression turns blank as she purses her lips. “So someone is incredibly hell bent on trying to kill me.”
“It would appear so. Has Cyrus had any luck tracking down the original assassin?”
“Still nothing. But maybe we can add this additional man into our facial recognition system and see if anything comes up.” She runs her hands through her hair. “You’re likely a target now too, if you weren’t before. Especially considering you took the bullet that was meant for me.”
She places her hand gently on my shoulder, and I swear some of the lingering pain alleviates.
“Not to mention the fact that we’re getting married.” My tone is light, but I can tell that’s weighing down on her too. “I can always find another way…”
Zahra shakes her head. “No. This is the best path forward. We can pool all our guards and resources, and hopefully track down not only whoever is trying to kill me, but also whoever is stealing from us.”
“We’re safer together,” I summarize. Between her sniffing out the poison during our first meeting and me spotting the shooter during the banquet, we’d both managed to help each other escape death.
“We are,” she admits, though it comes out begrudgingly. Likely because, as a boss, she knew relying on others always came with a risk. The same hand offering to feed you could strike you down on a moment's notice in our world.
“I’ve had my staff start to clean the cottage for our arrival.You can include any interior design instructions in your contract.”
“I’m fine with whatever is there already. From what your lawyer has said, the house is right on a hill overlooking the shoreline so I can’t imagine I’ll be spending much time inside.” She shakes her head, laughing under her breath. “I can’t believe we’re doing this. Can’t believe I’m actually getting married.”
“I know the feeling. We’ll keep it very small. Get married at the courthouse?—”
“We can’t. Your father specified he wanted an extravagant event in his will. Demanded we spend at least ten million dollars on it.”
“You’re joking.”
“I wish I was. It’s on the last page. If Cillian was still alive and decided to go into wedding planning, he’d make a fortune.”
“Of all the things he would spend his time on, I never thought it would be this. My father, the matchmaker,” I groan.
“Definitely unexpected, although a bit endearing. He wanted to be sure you were happy and taken care of. I can’t fault him for that.”
“So you’re going to take care of me, Zahra?” I give her a wicked smirk, which she meets with an eye roll.
“I’m not the mother goose type, so don’t expect me to cook you dinner or clean your laundry. But I do promise to have your back. And to defend our legacy.”
