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7
RAVEN
Two weeks later.
A weekbefore Christmas
It snowsfeathery birds that sway in the air, swirl around like crazy ghosts, and land on the sidewalks.
The street view is a mix of a grayish daylight, a sparkling golden glow from the lampposts and the shops, and a few red and green accents from the streetlights, the Christmas ornaments inside the buildings, and the wreaths hung on the doors.
“You can stop over there,” I say to the driver.
The limousine pulls over in front of a store where Giana is waiting for me, talking on the phone.
She doesn’t notice us as the car comes to a stop.
“I can take a cab back,” I say, meeting the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
He arches an eyebrow at me in disapproval.
“Call me when you’re done,” he murmurs, his eyes relaying to me more than his cryptic words.
We’ve been through this before.
Kai has given him precise instructions.
I can do whatever I want, wherever I want, and whenever I want, but the driver is responsible for my well-being. Therefore he has to take me to these places and bring me back safely, whether it’s work, my home, or going out to grab a quick lunch, dinner, or in this case, shop with Giana for an hour.
And maybe have something to eat too.
I gesture faintly.
“Never mind. I’ll text you when I’m done.”
Giana is still on the phone when I open the door, and my heels meet the slush on the side of the road.
She wears a gray coat, a white muffler, a matching winter hat, and gloves.
Holding her face tipped down, she shields her cheeks from the falling snow.
Next to her, people walk in and out of the store, the window display showcasing mannequins, confetti, colorful lights, Christmas ornaments, boots, coats, and hats, all attracting customers.
The car veers away while I straighten my back and pull the sides of my coat close to my chest.
I wear a sexy pantsuit tailored to my body––a tone of dark gray with thin pinstripes done in pastel pistachio and a matching long princess coat that almost touches the ground, my black heels helping it to stay above the wet slabs of concrete.
My hands instantly get cold as I clutch my bag and phone and head in her direction.
Alerted by my stare, she glances in my direction and does a double-take because she seemingly can’t believe her eyes.
We have only met once since I came back from Miami.
Many things have happened since Kai and I ran into Cardenas that night in Miami at the restaurant.
That night was hot, and I’m not talking weather here.
I never thought a man could love so fiercely. Or that he and I would never talk about us as a couple, Roman Cardenas, our trip back to New York, and even our arrangement.
