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“What’s the thing worth?” I asked, holding up the bag.
“Fifteen million.”
I let out a low whistle. It didn’t look like it was worth fifty cents.
“Shall I wire the money to one of your offshore accounts?” Daniel was a bastard. He played to win. And I liked him.
“I’ll give you an account number this evening.”
“Very well. As soon as the item has been authenticated, and I’ve received payment, I’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks.” I held out my hand, and he eyed it suspiciously for a moment before taking it.
“You’d better not be fucking with me,” he warned.
“I’m not really in a position to,” I said, offering him the velvet pouch. Daniel was almost out the door when I called his name. He turned, slightly annoyed. “Let’s keep this between us. Especially don’t mention it to Sonya.”
He nodded once and disappeared.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Sonya
“I’ll help you.On the truck.”
Trish stared at me as if digesting the words that had come out of my mouth. They’d surprised me too. I wasn’t a cook and hadn’t been on a food truck, let alone eaten at one, but maybe I could take orders or something.
She threw her arms around my neck. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
Tentatively, I returned the hug until it became a genuine one. “You’re welcome. You’re welcome. You’re welcome.”
She laughed and loosened her hold on me until she thought better of it. A second round of hugging ensued.
“This is such a relief. You know the recipes and what to recommend.” She squeezed tight. “And I trust you.”
I choked.
And I trust you.
I hadn’t given anyone a reason to in so long, I’d forgotten what that meant. For goodness' sake, I didn’t even trust myself. Yet this woman, who’d been through hell, who shouldn’t have faith in humanity . . . she’d given me the ultimate gift.
I didn’t want to betray that.
If I wasn’t scamming someone, then who was I?
“Loretta should like this.” Trish loaded a bag with homemade soup. “Hopefully, it will be easy to keep down.”
“Fingers crossed.” I’d confided in her about my worry for Loretta but had stopped short of spilling the insanity happening with Drew. I hadn’t made sense of this jumble of feelings yet and wasn’t ready to confess just how big of a soft spot he’d unveiled in my heart.
Trish continued filling two more bags with all the food we’d tested that afternoon. “At least now you don’t have to figure out what’s for dinner.”
“Trish . . .” It was too much, but she looked so happy packing up everything, I couldn’t say no. Not that I wanted to. Hopefully Muriella would appreciate a night—or a week—off.
“This isn’t unconditional,” she said as she wrapped up dessert and carefully placed it in the brown sack. “This is our first blind taste test. You have to promise to let me know what they think. Even if they hate it.”
She bumped my hip, her way of telling me there were no conditions on this meal. Trish was too pure for something like that.
“You want to come over and see what they think for yourself?”
