“Doing what?”
“Reducing your motives to the most convenient explanation.” He studies me for a moment. “Your office could have been untouched. Your house could have been left alone. You would still be here.”
I open my mouth, then close it again.
Because he is right.
I look down the hall toward the room where everyone is gathered.
A few weeks ago, they were clients.
Complicated clients with too much money, too many secrets, and a murder accusation hanging over one of them.
Now I know them intimately. Like family.
Somewhere along the way, the distance disappeared.
“I care about them too,” I say.
Mario nods as though that answer confirms something.
Then he says, “I’m trusting you with them.”
For once, I do not have an immediate response.
He tilts his head when I don't respond. “That surprises you?”
“I have to admit that, yes, it does. You don't strike me as a man who trusts easily.”
“I don't.”
“Well,” I say, emotion welling up in me. I ruthlessly bury it. Now is not the time.
“I'm not going to insult you by pretending you don't understand the risk,” he says. “But I will ask you to have a care. Your life is on the line, and your life matters very much to someone I love.”
I hold his gaze. “His life matters very much to me too.”
He studies me for a moment, then nods.
Then he inclines his head toward the family room. “Lorenzo will be wondering why I have kept you this long.”
“His imagination is probably running wild,” I say.
We head back together.
Lorenzo is exactly where I expected him to be, standing just inside the family room with his attention fixed on the hallway.
The moment he sees us, his gaze moves over my face as though checking for evidence of whatever conversation he has imagined.
I walk toward him. “Still in one piece,” I announce.
“That's a relief,” he says.
I look toward Mario, who has already returned to the rest of the family as though he did not just throw me completely off balance. Then I look at Lorenzo again.
“Your family is very intense.”
His mouth curves. “You are only discovering this now?”