No message to me.
That last thought irritates me enough that my voice comes out sharp.
“Where did she go when she left here?”
Any woman who shares my bed becomes a point of vulnerability the moment she does. It does not matter whether the world knows.
It does not matter whether she knows.
She is watched. Protected.
From a distance, without interference, unless a threat appears.
Victoria has had someone on her since that first night in her apartment.
Lorenzo’s eyes move once toward the hall, a brief check for proximity, habit more than concern.
“The pharmacy on Wabash,” he says automatically.
I look back at Victoria’s empty office.
“She should be going to the doctor,” I say tightly.
There is only silence from Lorenzo.
“You have something to say,” I tell Lorenzo.
“I have several things to say.”
“Choose one.”
“Do not make it worse.”
My eyes cut to his.
He does not look away.
Of all my brothers, Lorenzo has always been the one most willing to step in front of me when I am moving too fast in the wrong direction. Ricardo will challenge. Diego will mock until I either laugh or threaten him. Lorenzo simply puts a hand on the door before I can open it and makes me decide whether I am willing to break it.
Today, I might be.
“You don’t know what the problem is,” I say.
“No. Neither do you.”
Thatis the problem.
I know nothing, and I do not like knowing nothing.
I know only that Victoria ignored my message, came into my building, became sick enough to vomit in her office, gathered her work, and left before I could see her.
Those facts leave too much possibility.
“She is ill,” I say.
“She could have eaten something bad.”
I look at him.
