Page 63 of Empire State Enemies

Lexi forces out a nervous laugh.

“In a manner of speaking,” I reply smoothly. “I hear you’re studying IT? Impressive choice.”

Lexi lets out an almost strangled sound, but Grace remains blissfully unaware. “Yeah. Actually, one of your people, Lucy, came to talk to our class. I’m really interested in graphic design.”

I nod approvingly. “Graphic design is a solid choice. You must have a creative streak.”

Grace’s excitement spills over like a dam burst. “I’d love an internship at Quinn & Wolfe actually! I’ll work super hard, I swear.”

“Grace!” Lexi looks like she’s about to explode.

I tsk, enjoying her barely concealed panic. “No need to be shy, Lexi. I’m happy to pull some strings.” Leaning into Grace, I drop my voice, conspiratorial. “Got a bit of pull in IT. Toss your resume my way, and I’ll see it gets to where it needs to.”

Grace’s eyes widen like saucers. Lexi seems to be silently losing her mind, a throbbing vein on her lovely throat serving as a telltale sign.

If looks could castrate, I’d be bleeding out on the pavement right now.

My grin just widens.

“But there’s one condition, Grace.” I let my gaze wander down Lexi’s tense form. “You give me some dirt on your darling sister here.” Like how many nights she secretly spends baiting rich idiots. I wink at the younger Sullivan.

Grace scoffs, seemingly unfazed by the tension in the air. “I’d have to get creative to find any dirt. Lexi’s all work, no play.”

“Is that so?” I drawl.

“Listen, we need to go,” Lexi pleads. Fucking priceless.

“There’s time,” I say easily. “Relax, Lexi. The reporter got what he needed.”

Lexi’s frown deepens as I turn my attention back to Grace. “Grace wants to tell me more.”

“There’s zero dirt. Lexi is a workaholic,” Grace insists, a bit too enthusiastically. “Her social life is basically just work events.”

I let my gaze linger on Lexi. “All work, huh? Wonder how her guy feels, competing with a job for attention.”

“She’s not dating anyone,” Grace blurts out, and Lexi lets out an audible groan, her face reddening.

“Though Mom’s been playing matchmaker with this good-looking nurse from the care home,” Grace adds cheerfully.

“Care home?” I inquire, noticing Lexi’s sudden stillness.

“Our mom’s in Assisted Living,” Lexi says tightly.

“Three years now,” Grace throws in. “So go easy on sis, she’s basically my stand-in mom.”

I nod, keeping my expression neutral. This little detail hadn’t made its way into my meticulous background check. Dead dad yes, but this . . .

“Must be a heavy load. What’s the reason, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“We manage,” Lexi’s voice barely conceals her strain. “COPD. It’s a lung condition that makes it difficult to breathe. Years of smoking finally caught up with her.”

I take a moment to digest this newfound information. Does it cast her in a different light? Explain the financial issues and exhaustion? Her old man had money, though . . . Something isn’t adding up.

“My condolences,” I offer sincerely. “That’s a lot on your shoulders.”

“It’s fine.” She bristles, her defenses snapping back into place. She checks the time, then nudges her sister. “I’ll catch you at home, Grace.”

“Don’t overwork her!” Grace playfully warns as she walks off.