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“If it’s about the money—”
“It’s not.”
She pulls back and studies me. “Then why?”
“It’s about winning.”
She looks surprised. “Winning? Really?”
I pull away from her and start walking. She falls into step and the car drifts after us like a massive, sleek black puppy dog, except there are guys with guns inside of it and thankfully, they’re on our side.
“You met my parents, right?”
“Once,” she says. “Sophomore year they came to visit. Remember that?”
“I remember,” I say and glance at the buildings. Mom was already drunk and Dad made it clear that he wanted to be anywhere else. When his beeper went off, he practically jumped at the chance to fly back early for a surgery the following day. “They’ve been like that my whole life.”
“Like what?”
“Mom’s been overbearing, almost obsessive, but only insofar as it reflects back on her. Dad’s the total opposite, he’s been too busy being Mr. Super Surgeon to ever give a shit about his daughter. They raised me to hit hard and finish things, and Mom would always tell me that winning is the only thing worth doing.”
“Oh, honey,” Brice says with a sigh. “I can only imagine how that might’ve fucked you up.”
I smile tightly. “I try not to think about it, but here we are anyway. I need this case exactly because it’s too much for me. I need it to prove that I’m not just the spoiled brat daughter of a brilliant and rich surgeon and a socialite alcoholic.”
We walk in silence for a bit. I feel vulnerable and strange, and maybe it’s the baby making me say all this, but it actually feels good to tell someone about my family dynamic instead of bottling it up.
“You probably know this already, but you don’t have anything to prove to anyone,” Brice says and when I give her a look, she only shrugs. “I really mean it. You’re smart and successful and gorgeous, and I wish I had your hair—”
“That’s not true. The hair part, the rest is dead on.”
She laughs. “I’m only saying, don’t put yourself in a tough spot just because you think your parents want you to.”
“It’s not really for them. It’s more for… the person I see myself as. The person I want to be, but I’m not sure I actually am. If I can’t take on a case like this and knock it out of the park, then am I really as good as I think? It’s as much about proving to myself that I can do it too.”
Brice nods and slowly stops walking. She faces me, her expression serious, and she takes my left hand between both of her own. It’s strange and I don’t love the contact but I don’t pull away either—I’m being vulnerable for once in my life so why not go all the way? She takes a deep breath and looks me in the eye.
“Sara, I think you should walk away.”
My eyebrows raise. “Okay. That’s direct. But why?”
“Because I think it’s more dangerous than Carmine’s letting on.”
I let that slowly sink in. I know something big is going on here, or at least something extremely shady, but this feels like the start of something.
“What do you know?”
“Nothing concrete, only I heard him on the phone with Angelo last night. They were talking about… well, Carmine was talking about his enemies.” She clears her throat and tightens her grip on me. “The list is very long.”
“Angelo’s just trying to find out who we need to look into, that’s all.”
“They’re not the kind of people you want to get involved with. No, don’t give me that look, I know I’m not one to talk considering I married Carmine. But I didn’t have a choice in that, I just—”
“You love him.”
“Exactly,” she says quietly and sounds exhausted. “I don’t want you to get sucked into something bigger than you can handle, that’s all.”
“Don’t worry about me. Angelo claims he’s basically my bodyguard. And despite his many personality flaws, he can be… useful.”
She nods miserably but slowly her smile returns. “Are you sure there’s nothing going on with him? I know you two, at the wedding—”
“Nothing,” I say quickly and pull my hand from her grip. “I promise. Strictly business. We have boundaries.”
“Yeah, right. I know all about boundaries and how quickly they evaporate.” She steers me toward the car. “Come on, let me drive you home.”
“No, really, I’m fine—”
“Sara, stop it. I have a rich and powerful husband, at least let me spoil my friends a tiny bit.”
I sigh as she opens the door to the limo. “Who am I to turn down a ride?”
“Exactly. Let’s go.”
We get into the back seat and the conversation turns to more mundane things like movies and TV, but I keep hearing her warning in the back of my head.
This is bigger than me. This is deep, and I might drown.
