“Does that mean we’re safe?” I ask.
“Yes,” Francisco confirms. “If there’s anyone left who’s loyal to Andretti, they won’t be coming after you.”
“Even though I killed him?” I ask in a small voice.
“Let’s just keep that between us,” Francisco suggests.
“I’d love that,” I respond gratefully.
Handing over responsibility for Andretti’s death is a wonderful relief. I’ll know what I did, and Frankie will know, but I agree it’s better for the public to think Francisco is the one who killed him. It makes more sense that way for both of us. He gets the accolades for finishing off his nemesis, and I don’t have towithstand the worst of anyone’s future revenge quest. It’s a win-win.
Francisco gets himself some coffee and has a seat. It’s almost like we’re a family, two couples enjoying breakfast together in a bright, open kitchen. What more could I ask for?
CHAPTER 43
FRANKIE
Weeks Later
It’s been a brutal two days, but I’m finally finished with the bar exam. I can’t believe how difficult it was. Not only the content but also the method of delivery is harsh. I’m not used to sitting in a room with a hundred other people, hunched over a desk with a number two pencil. I thought that kind of testing went out with the last millennium. But apparently, it’s a way of making sure that nobody cheats.
I had to give up my cell phone before I walked into the room, and only got it back at the end of the day. And now I’m seeing Scantron sheets dancing whenever I close my eyes, a remnant of the past if ever there was one.
I set my pencil down and feel a rush of satisfaction. I’m confident I did well. All that studying certainly paid off. Now all I have to do is wait for the test results, and I’ll be a fully licensed attorney.
I check out at the front desk and retrieve my phone. Checking messages, I see there are a few. I’m hardly paying attention towhere I’m walking as I exit the building. I don’t see Sofia until I nearly stumble over her.
She’s sitting in the parking lot on the hood of my car. Gorgeous as ever, she’s wearing my driver’s hat. She looks adorable in the chauffeur’s crown, holding a sign like a dutiful employee waiting for me at the airport. The sign reads:Attorney Frankie Corello.
I laugh, scooping her into my arms. The sign falls away as we kiss passionately, not caring who is around to see. “I’m not an attorney yet,” I tell her.
“I’m sure you passed,” she insists.
“Where’s my driver?” I ask.
“I gave him the day off,” Sofia says with a grin.
“You can’t do that,” I object. “What did he say?”
“He turned bright red when I told him what I have in mind,” she teases.
I like the sound of that. Placing my hand on the small of her back, I walk her to the driver’s seat. “What exactly do you have in mind?”
She pulls a key card out of her pocket and waves it provocatively in front of me. “I got us a room at the Econo Hotel.”
I have to laugh, considering that the Econo Hotel isn’t exactly up to my father’s high standards. It’s your typical pay-by-the-hour place on the highway, and I only know about it because I’ve taken a few meetings there. Not sex, only regular business meetings. It’s the kind of place you can go to shut the door for a while and where no one asks too many questions.
“Living large,” I say with a smirk.
“Indeed,” she agrees.
She hops into the driver’s seat, and I walk around to the passenger side. It takes us ten minutes to reach the hotel and only two minutes to find the room. There’s no central corridor; every room opens directly onto the sidewalk. Sofia reads the faded numbers on the doors until she comes to the one she rented. Swiping the key card, she lets us in, and it’s all a blur from there.
I take her in my arms. Certain parts of my chest still feel tender from the beating I took in her old apartment. We haven’t been back there, even though the police told us it was safe. Sofia hired a bunch of college kids off the internet to go in and pack up all her stuff. She threw most of the furniture away and only kept her clothes and personal items. But I haven’t even seen those recently. She rented a storage place where she could dump things and forget about them. I suspect it will be a long time before she’s finally able to look at the remnants of that fateful day.
We’ve been living in my place, which has a fully functional bedroom. I’m not sure why she felt it was important to get a hotel room. Only now that I’m here, it feels dirty and secretive, two ingredients that heighten my need for her.
I tug her shirt off, kissing her fiercely as I go. She does the same for me, and now we’re both naked from the waist up. I slide my fingers beneath her bra straps and drag them down her arms, exposing her shoulders to my touch. I must hand it to her, taking a detour to make love in a seedy hotel room is the perfect celebration for a job well done.
