“Quite the predicament when you’ve just offered to be roomies with an arsonist.” Seb chuckles.
I simply hum, but that other vital organ that was so close to becoming permanently defunct from underuse is now wreaking havoc in my chest with each beat.
“So by my calculations,” says Luca, tapping his finger into his palm like he’s keying numbers into a calculator, “you’re completely, totally, and royally fucked, and well on your way to falling hard and fast.”
“And you’re completely, totally, and royally fucked from watching too much Dr. Phil,” I say with my back to him as I walk out the door, mostly so he can’t see the truth written all over my face.
“Marco is going to have the time of his life designing a tattoo for you,” calls out Seb, and Luca laughs along with him.
I simply flip them both the bird. I’m too much of a coward to admit out loud that where apprehension and anxiety should be about going home to find my place of solitude filled by a bratty woman with a brazen attitude, there’s onlyanticipation at the thought of walking through the door to someone instead of silence. It’s both sobering and scary as hell, because I need to stick to the plan of not crossing the line again—unless it’s for show in the name of saving her from her arranged marriage. Fuck. My list of clauses and amendments to the rules I set are starting to get out of hand. Clearly, the mystery disease I’ve self-diagnosed has escalated, and the closer she and I become, the further out of reach my cure. Maybe a tattoo won’t look so bad anyway. They look badass on her.
Then I do what any good person in denial does. I get in my town car, tell my driver to take me to my favorite place for a slice, grab dinner to go, and head to the office to bury myself inpaperwork. No time like the present to set up the case file and notes in preparation for Arty’s trial. Once an Assistant District Attorney is assigned to the case, Sophia and I will need to work closely with them on coordinating victim testimonies and finalizing a legal strategy. Better the devil I know than the one waiting to tempt me at every turn.
On the way, I text Avery.
Just checking my house guest is all settled.
Avery:
She’s safe and sound. I confirmed the authenticity of the courier company. They checked out. I took the bags from them and inside myself.
To the guest room?
Avery:
I believe so. Can’t say I’ve been a guest or otherwise in your home, but Chiara seemed to know her way around, so I let her take charge.
Brave man.
Avery:
She also insisted that you told her I was her personal bodyguard and would always be close by.
I did say it in passing but hadn’t had a chance to update with Vault Enterprise yet.
Avery:
No problem. I’ll make the change on the system and add an additional resource to this assignment.
Please charge it back to me.
Avery:
Noted.
Avery:
I also want to make you aware that Chiara insisted the new arrangement started effective immediately, so I’m currently in your home watching reruns of SATC. Not by choice, but by client’s request that she felt safer in her room if I was with her.
Not that I doubt your professionalism, but she’s off-limits for obvious reasons.
Avery:
Noted. The obvious reason being she prefers assholes. I’ll vacate the premises and move back to the car shortly. Also confirming the next part of the plan is in motion too.
Duly noted. Thank you.
Not for the first or last time, I consider how truly fucked I am.
