I tiptoe back, feeling that I am intruding on something personal, when his face snaps toward me, assessing if I am a danger.
“Zara,” she says in clear relief.
“Hi,” I say, waving awkwardly. “I came to see you in your element.”
“Mrs. Giancana,” he says curtly, displaying nothing but cold professionalism.
She lifts her palm to his face. “Ignore him.”
His eyes burn with a challenge. “Like you would like to.”
I look at her, letting her know I don’t approve of this dangerous foreplay they have going on. His reputation is controversial at best, and everyone in the underworld is wary of him.
She waves me off as if I am imagining things.
Sure, right.
I’ve been in the delusional bubble myself, and when it pops, it alters the course of your life.
“You’ll get it when it’s ready, probably in pieces I will hurl at you.”
“Personal delivery.” Lew winks at her. “I like it.”
“Out.” She stabs an angry finger at the door and mumbles “asshole” under her breath. He leaves with a smirk, every stride steeped in a show of dominance.
“How was your honeymoon? Tell me everything,” she says, firing off questions once we’re alone, her bubbly personality shining through. This is a good day, and I wonder if it has something to do with him.
“Too bad it ended,” I expel a long breath, and we move to a bench next to a marble block.
Over two cups of coffee, I recount the PG-approved content.
She nods and smiles here and there, then bursts into laughter when I tell her the whole sand sex debacle.
With her, it’s easy to talk. We understand each other.
I fold my hands in my lap, offering her a sympathetic look. “Your father came to visit.”
“I can’t even be mad at him,” she sighs, the sound echoing with heartbreaking sadness.
I place my hand on hers in silent support. “Make peace with his decision. I would do anything for another day with my father.”
She avoids my gaze. “Yes, even if they were monsters… we’re programmed to love them.”
24
ZARA
Between reviewing the ongoing arms shipments and moving to Chicago, the past few days have been packed, and I’ve had no time to breathe.
Conrad walks inside my home office, saying, “A very important client scheduled a meeting. I will reschedule your therapist appointment.”
I look up from my laptop at Conrad, frowning. This would be the second time, and I can’t keep postponing it.
“Or you could reschedule the client meeting.”
Important or not, nothing trumps my desire to uncover the truth. I know he has my back, but damn if I can’t shake the impression that he’s trying to sabotage my trip to Washington.
“You seem happy,” he says, skimming through the folders on my desk.
