Then let's change that. I'm Alex.
Alex.
I smile.
It is elegant and strong. A good name.
No, Alex is a cute name. He texts like an Alex, I decide.
I take the plunge.
Me
Nice to meet you, Alex. I'm Lola.
Chapter Eight
ENZO
"Why the fuck are you here?"Silas asks me as I drop by his place in Astoria, Queens.
It is late, is what he means, and he is just being a pain in the ass. Late for him is five a.m., it is ten.
"I just dropped a disgruntled Lyndall off at my father's, and Cade has gone to drive Vi home."
"You have no boundaries." Silas shoves a hand through his too-long hair and ushers me inside.
We head past his home office that clients and potential clients see, and to the bigger one that only members of the Syndicate are privy to.
I shrug. "He said he's on the way over, something about the Rebecci family?"
I need to tell him about Lola, how she might call.
As he flings himself into one of the seats, I pace.
He is doing something on his computer, but it is a New York map, so I don't know what he is up to because he knows this city.
Then again, Silas also likes to mark out things to do with his job, so I wait.
About three seconds.
"Silas, listen?—"
His phone starts to ring, and he holds a finger up. "Hello?"
Shit.
I didn't get a chance to tell him about what I had told Lola, or how to play it.
He is not going to screw it up, I don't think, it is not his style. But while he can be charming and play it loose, there is also the chance he might say the wrong thing, like 'he is standing right here.'
His eyes narrow as she talks, and he turns, pulls out his chair, and sprawls in it.
I go to his whiskey bottle on the bookshelf. There are a few clean glasses upside down on the shelf above it. I grab one and pour a healthy slug.
That narrow-eyed look continues as he raises two fingers. Then I slide that one over his desk to him and pour another for me and sit on the sofa.
He takes a swallow, eyes never leaving me. "Okay. You want a private investigator. To do all that."
