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“What do you know, Prez?” I ask, challenging him.
“I know that you’ve been making moony eyes at the dance teacher,” he says, making a kissy face. If he weren’t my boss, I’d deck him in the face.
“It’s not like that,” I say, despite the fact that he’s not far off. “She’s a friend and she’s in trouble.”
His expression changes and he sits down, motioning for me to do the same.
“What kind of trouble?” he asks curiously. “What do you need?”
Seer, at heart, is a huge pushover. Not that I’m taking advantage of him in any way, but I know he can’t resist a good damsel in distress. He eats that shit up. We may technically be considered a criminal organization, but Seer sees himself as a fairytale prince. Since he has his princess, he’s very focused on keeping the peace throughout the land and showing how heroic he is.
As a humble prince, he doesn’t ask for credit. Half the time, he doesn’t want anyone to know what he did. He just wants to serve and make sure that deserving people have what they need to succeed in life and bad people see justice served. Knowing that, I’m not worried about him missing me if I need to spend more time with Melissa. He’ll think I’m doing it for a noble cause and sign off immediately.
So, I tell him about how I met her. I recount the attack on the night I covered his class for him, and how I took care of her. I tell him about the voodoo doll and how scared she was. I even tell him about the pizza delivery guy, just in case that might be pertinent information. It could still be nothing, but I’m not taking the chance. I definitely do not tell him about the sex. Or the cuddling. It’s not his business anyway.
“Who is this girl?” he asks seriously. “Why would someone have a vendetta against her?”
I shrug, because I truly don’t have an answer for that.
“She says her dad is some business guy and has a lot of enemies,” I say, though I’m not entirely convinced on that front.
“Is her dad still alive?” he asks, a paleness coming over his face.
“She didn’t say, but she talks about him like he is.” I fiddle with the zipper on my leather jacket, unsure about his line of questioning.
“Thank fucking Christ, I thought we were dealing with the daughter of Anderson Grey or some shit.” He laughs with relief. “I don’t think I have it in me to go another round with that prick, even if he is dead.”
I laugh too, finding the idea ridiculous. That thought hadn’t even crossed my mind, but now that it has, it does make me wonder. She’s so vague about her life. Apart from telling me her dad’s pissed people off, she doesn’t talk about him singularly very much. It’s always “my parents” this, and “my mom” that. I have no insight into their relationship whatsoever.
No, the thought is too ridiculous. I’m sure she’s talked about him in the present tense. Great, now Seer’s got my thoughts going down a rabbit hole and questioning the girl that I . . . have a vested interest in.
“In any case,” I tell him. “I feel like it’s my job to protect her. If something were to happen to her, I’d be responsible.”
“Because you care about her,” he states, as if this is the gospel truth.
“No!” I object. “I mean . . . no. My interest is purely selfish. I was there the night she was attacked, and I was there when she received that doll. What if she starts to think I had something to do with it?”
“Aw, come on, mon ami,” he groans. “You wouldn’t be putting in all this effort if you weren’t attracted to her.”
“There are dozens of HR laws that state you can’t talk to me like that,” I tell him sarcastically.
“If you’re so worried about keeping things above board, I’ll be sure to report your wages to the IRS.” He smirks back.
“Point taken,” I mutter. “So, is this cool? Can you spare me for a few days while I try and figure out what’s going on with her?”
He shrugs and smiles. “What the hell, I think I can survive without you for a few more days. The Houston Kings are here for a while if we come up against any real threats. Voodoo doll or otherwise.”
“I’m going to shove a voodoo doll up your ass,” I mutter to his self-satisfied smirk as I get up to leave.
“Heard that,” he shouts at my retreating back. “And good luck pulling that off. My visions are better than ever lately, I’ll see it coming from a mile away. Probably the same time I get a vision of you marrying the dance teacher.”
“Goodbye, Seer,” I yell over my shoulder, giving him a one-finger salute.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
When our cab pulls up to the house, a sense of nostalgia and warmth rush through my veins. It’s been months since I’ve laid eyes on the house that was my home for fifteen years. Francesca and I have stayed in some of the most luxurious hotels in all of Europe, but none of them compare to this. I hope she’ll see it that way. She still hasn’t completely come around about living here.
She squeezes my hand as the car stops, a silent indication that our journey has come to an end. Now it’s back to reality, or at least figuring out what reality will look like for us now. We’ve avoided the topic for so long, instead just content to live in the here and now. In London, we made out on the Eye and decided to pack up for Portugal. After spending a month on the Portuguese beaches, we decided to go back to France. The world was ours, we had no agenda and no need to set one.
