Page 18 of Privilege

“Still, he knows the rules.”

“Is my brother coming soon?” Diego asked suddenly, his sweet face popping up expectantly.

Laurie shot the quiet woman a look. “I thought the mother—”

“You know he rarely asks about her.”

Lucia didn’t know what the two women were talking about, and she didn’t feel like it was her place to ask, either. Not that it mattered. Laurie had other things for Lucia to handle, it seemed.

“Listen, you can get a good look at the daycare tomorrow, Lucia,” she told her. “Could you finish up those papers for me, get them all filled out, and drop them off at the front before you head out for the evening?”

“Sure,” Lucia murmured.

“Great. Tomorrow—six sharp.”

“You got it.”

Lucia shot one more look over her shoulder as she exited the daycare, and found Diego was staring after her and smiling. He waved one chubby hand as if to silently say goodbye. She waved back.

• • •

The Cartier watch on Lucia’s wrist had just ticked past nine o’clock when she finished filling out the papers with her signature on the final line. Beyond the usual info that she had already provided to the shelter, these papers had just been a recap of policies and things that she needed to agree to adhere to while she volunteered at the shelter.

Things like appropriate behavior, no substance abuse, and other details that didn’t even cross Lucia’s mind on a daily basis. She had found the relationship policy rather interesting, though. Volunteers and workers were, under no circumstances, allowed to become romantically involved with the women in the shelter.

She wondered how many times that had needed to happen before someone decided to make a policy about it? And just how effective was said policy?

Shuffling the papers into a neat pile, Lucia scooped them up from the counter she’d been using as a makeshift desk, and headed into the hallway. She was reading over the papers to make sure she hadn’t missed anything when she first heard his voice.

God knew she hadn’t expected to ever hear it again.

Maybe that was why heat shot through her body as her spine stiffened like someone had shoved a rod through it. It was confusing, and disconcerting that someone’s voice could make her have that kind of reaction.

Lucia brushed it off, and picked up her steps to head for the front of the shelter where she needed to drop off her papers. And where that familiar voice was coming from.

Angry and bitter, the noise picked up as she rounded the final corner.

“I apologized, didn’t I?” he demanded.

“You know that’s not the point, though.”

“I get it—I was late.”

“It wasn’t even supposed to be you picking him up today, Renzo. It was supposed to be your mother.”

Lucia came into the main reception area of the shelter in just enough time to see Renzo’s gaze flash with fire as he shoved his fisted hands into the pockets of his jeans. His jaw was stiff—like something strong and sharp carved from marble. If not for the scowl etched on his lips that kept twitching like he was trying to hold back words, she thought he might have been a statue.

Cold, and beautiful.

Despite knowing whatever was happening near the entrance doors between Renzo and Laurie was none of Lucia’s business, she couldn’t help but peek over her shoulder as she approached the desk. The woman there seemed to be doing an even better job at minding her own business as she took the papers from Lucia without ever acting like there was a whole very loud argument happening just a few feet away.

Lucia was not that good.

She dared another peek over her shoulder. Standing directly behind Renzo with a blue backpack on was Diego. He stared up at the scene in front of him with his tiny brow knotted in confusion. It was plain to see the tiredness in the child’s eyes. How old was he? Maybe four, but he couldn’t be any older than that.

Lucia briefly wondered if the little boy was Renzo’s son, but then she remembered what Laurie had just said. Their mother was supposed to come and pick up Diego. So, a brother, then.

“She can’t be counted on, clearly,” Renzo said dryly. “I will make sure—”