"I don't really rate him beyond being decent—a good boss, good enough to give me a job when I needed one." I bite my lip, aware it sounds like I'm desperate. I am desperate, but I don't want Enzo to know, so I push on. "Everyone liked him, so I didn't have issues."
"I'm not PR."
"But you know him."
"I also didn't ask for a review."
I eat some more, then finally take a small sip of the drink.
Something tells me not to get drunk around him. Or even tipsy. It doesn't feel...safe. As in, I don't trust myself to keep all my thoughts locked in tight if there is some kind of lubricant.
And I can't think of the word lubricant with one of the most gorgeous men I have ever seen because I might be a little wet.
Crap.
"He's a rich guy." And then I shut my mouth.
He stares at me, waiting.
I sigh. "Nothing wrong with that, but rich. From money. It is a vibe."
"And you don't like that vibe."
I look at my plate. "My father died because of that vibe."
"Yeah, and I'm sorry."
Startled, I glance at him. "You're rich but don't give off that vibe. I mean, you dress the part, but...that work we did. I know you're skilled in that field, that is more than clear. But do you need to do that?"
"What's that?"
I tuck my feet under the chair. "Illegal things? Because that felt illegal."
When he doesn't answer, I push on.
"Illegal things like helping your dad."
He breathes out as he eats another spring roll. "Sometimes, I help him. But I have tried to distance myself from that life as much as possible."
I nod, not sure if I believe him, not sure if it is my place to even go here.
"Lola, I have worked hard to pave my own way in the world and make a name for myself outside of my father's shadow."
"I get that. Respect that. I just... I was around that world and not part of it." I'm not sure why I'm telling him, but once the words start, I can't stop them. "When Dad died, he was up to his eyeballs in illegal shit. I know this because I was questioned. Everything was seized. Almost everything. I don't think they found any list of client names because no one else had the feds all over them."
I swallow. "I went from rich to poor and alone. And the one thing I wanted, the only thing, was my father back."
"I'm sorry, Lola."
"Are you?" But I shake my head. "You and your father were in deep, too. Years ago. Something happened with our parents, but I don't know what."
He tops up his glass and eats some rice and curry. "I really don't know much. I might be older, but we were both kids."
I don't want to believe him, but I guess I do. After all, it makes sense. Neither of us were adults. And teens and kids get protected or ignored. They might be trained to take over, but the grit and details aren't taught until later.
Adulthood.
Not that that would have been my life. But it should have been his. So, maybe he is distancing himself.
