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Monday morning I’ll apologize to Cade and hope he doesn’t hate me. I’ll schedule an emergency therapy session with Keeney. I’ll focus on my campaign and do my best to straighten up.
Be the perfect Delphine I’ve always been.
The taxi I’m in brakes for a red light a couple blocks away from Centennial Village. My phone buzzes in my lap with a notification of a new text message.
This time it’s not Salvatore.
The number is unrecognizable, but I know who it is anyway. NorthamNeptune123 checking in on me.
Bad night?
I stare at the message as three dots appear on the screen, indicating he’s typing more.
i know how to make it all go away. So ur secrets safe.
My left brow raises in skepticism, but I play along, asking how.
Ur going to have to put some trust in me first.
8. salvatore
It takes exactlya week for Daddy Adams to confront me. In that time frame, I imagine he had a forensics team comb his office for even a modicum of evidence. Probably brought in Northam PD to sweep the premises. All in a vain attempt to prove it was me who broke into his office.
After a few days, I’m not even expecting it to come up. As far as I see it, he would’ve insisted I’m arrested and thrown in jail for such an abominable violation—at least in his dreams.
I’m much more preoccupied with Delphine. What happened between us Friday night is more important than me fucking around with Ernest.
She won’t answer my calls. My texts go unread. When I stop by her apartment, she isn’t there and new locks have been installed.
“Psycho,” says Fabio, knocking on the door to my club office. “You’ve got a phone call. Are you taking any?”
I blink out of my thoughts. “Depends. Who’s calling?”
“Your other arch nemesis. He’d like a word.”
The description’s enough for me to know who it is. I seize my desk phone, reclining in my chair, and a grin spreads on my face.
“TGIF, DA. Any plans this weekend?” I say jovially. Maybe the brightest tone my voice has ever taken on in my life.
On the other end, Ernest grimaces. I don’t need to be able to see him to know. His hatred for me is so consuming it’s a sound in itself. Silent loathing.
“I presume the photograph of my wife and daughter is now sitting on your desk,” he says. “It will never cease to amaze me how you can stoop so low.”
“I’m sure the photograph you’re referencing is beautiful, but I don’t know what you’re talking about. Care to explain?”
“I bet you were disappointed when your search turned up nothing.”
“You’re fishing for information.” My grin widens as I sink even deeper in my desk chair. “I’m sorry, DA, but I tend not to reveal pertinent info.”
“Does Delphine know you’re harassing her father?”
“Do I seem like I’d care if she did?”
Ernest’s laugh rings in my ear—rich and dense and fake as fuck. “I forgot. The two of you are in a rough patch right now, isn’t that right? My daughter realized her worth and threw you away, like I said she would. She wants nothing to do with you.”
Still hasn’t stopped her from fucking me.
I rub my jaw with that triumphant thought making me produce a laugh a lot more authentic than his. I could throw it in his face, but as fun as taunting him is, I go a different route. Ernest insists on fishing for info. So will I.
