Page 79 of A Taste like Sin

money to politicians than mingle among them. He died a few years back of a heart attack, but Daddy

still attended every year, kissing up to the executors of his estate.

“I’ve never been,” I say thickly. “He never took me.”

“It’s tomorrow night,” Diane says. “Your father was a headliner. He planned to secure donations—”

She breaks off, swallowing hard. “Please.Youshould represent him. It’s what he—no, it’s what I

want. Please, Juliana.”

I’ve never seen her like this, her eyes bloodshot, her hands trembling.

“All right.” I step forward and carefully throw my arms around her, hugging her tight. “I’ll go. Don’t

worry.”

She squeezes me in return. “Thank you. Thank you. I know he’d… Thank you. And”—she pulls back

and swipes a wayward lock of hair away from my face—“I hope whatever your father left for you

gave you some ounce of closure.”

I lower my gaze to my purse, remembering the documents tucked inside it. “I haven’t gone yet,” I

admit. “But I will.”

JULIO IS WAITING FOR ME AT THE HOSPITAL’S PRIVATE ENTRANCE, STANDING BESIDE THE CAR. WITHOUT

complaint, I enter the back seat, but as the faithful bodyguard takes the wheel, I clear my throat.

“Damien put you in charge of my security,” I start, settling my hands primly on my lap.

“Sí.” The man shoots me a wary glance from the corner of his eye. “Can I help you with anything, Ms.

Thorne?”

“I want to take a detour,” I propose. “A detour without getting approval from your boss first. A

personaldetour that I’m informing you about rather than running off on my own.”

“So, if I may ask, why are you?” Amusement laces Julio’s otherwise professional tone.

A smile tugs on my mouth as well—at least until I mull over his question. “Because I’m scared,” I

admit, turning to stare out the window as the city streets pass in a blur. “I’m terrified, enough that I

would rather not shun one of the few people capable of protecting me.”

“So where to, Ms. Thorne?”

I bite back a sigh of relief. Will he really keep this quiet? I have no choice but to take the risk. “A

bank,” I say, fishing a stack of documents from my purse. “Here is the address.”

He nods, and moments later, we arrive in front of an upscale establishment in the heart of the city.

When I approach a woman at the front desk, she eyes me warily until I say what must be the magic