Page 69 of A Sinner's Virtue

“That’s not easy.” I rub at my temples.

“Why don’t we take a lunch break? You look stressed.”

“I’m not stressed. I’m… I don’t know what I am, but I’m not stressed,” I tell him.

Ivan walks back in with a to-go cup of coffee in his hand. I glance in his direction before a sound at the window has me turning that way instead. I frown as my glare lands on the outside ledge. The bird’s back.

“Fuck. We need to get out of here,” Ivan says.

“Not you too,” I groan while spinning back around in my chair.

“What?” Santo questions.

“It’s just a bird, Ivan, not an omen,” I tell him. “You guys need to cool it with all this superstitious shit.”

“What’s a bird an omen for?” Santo asks me.

“Mikhail claims it means death is coming. Like I said, it’s just a superstition.”

Santo looks from me to Ivan before pushing to his feet. “Bring the car around. We were just about to go for lunch anyway. Come on, Zoe.”

“Be out front in two minutes. Do not let her out of your sight.” Ivan points to Santo, who offers him a mock salute in return.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Come on, not you too.”

“I’m hungry. Let’s go eat,” Santo tells me, taking my bag from my shoulder and putting it over his.

“You believe the bird thing, don’t you?” I sigh.

“It’s not that I believe it. It’s just that I don’t not believe it. Besides, if I ignore it and something happens to you, Marcel’s heart will break and I don’t want any of my brothers to experience what I have.”

“You’re right. Let’s just play on the side of caution. Why don’t we go back to my place for lunch? We can order something and have it delivered?” I suggest.

“Sounds good.” As we’re walking out of the office, Santo sticks really close to my side. He opens the back door of Ivan’s car before climbing in after me.

“We’re going to my place. Ordering in,” I tell Ivan.

“Sure,” he responds, already pulling the car out into traffic.

I smile when my phone rings and I see Marcel’s name on the screen. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself. Where are you going?” he asks.

“Are you tracking me?” I question him.

“Yes, now, where are you going?” he says as if tracking someone’s movements is a completely normal thing to do.

“To my place. Your brother needs food,” I tell him.

“He can fend for himself. You don’t need to cater to him, Zoe.”

“I know. What are you doing?”

“I’m heading to your place now. I’ll be there in five,” he tells me.

“How was Gabe?”