Page 29 of To the Chase

I squeezed my eyes shut. “It’s impossible not to when I’m at Nox every Tuesday, and he plants himself at the conference table while I’m setting up. And it would be nice to know the reason he shut me out after…well, justafter—for my own peace of mind.”

“Yeah,” Shira whispered. “I’d want to know too.”

“Thenyou can eviscerate him,” Clara added.

“Right.” I opened my eyes to stare at the paneled ceiling. “Then I’lldefinitelyeviscerate him.”

Shira gasped again, sitting upright. “Oh, Bea. Could he be your billionaire?”

“No.” I shook my head. “That’s not possible.”

The timing made sense, though. The last couple years—two, to be precise—I’d had periodic run-ins with a man in a limo—a man I never saw who often witnessed my disasters. The corkscrew I took from reckless teens that had ended up embedded in the limo’s tire. That time, Benjamin rolled in a muddy puddle and shook himself off beside the limo’s open window. And then the bike messenger…no.

“It can’t be him,” I stated firmly. “If he were the limo guy, he would have said something. It isn’t him.”

Clara wasn’t convinced. “Unless heisthe limo guy, and that’s what he’s going to tell you tonight.”

I sighed, watching my nail tech paint my toes cherry red. “He’s not, but either way, I’m going to get answers.”

“And then destroy him,” Clara added.

“I would never know how bloodthirsty you are by looking at you,” Shira said.

Clara smoothed her perfectly sleek bob. “I contain multitudes.”

Smiling, I looked down at my pretty toes, nerves over tonight piling higher and higher. He’d ghosted me, and here I was, a weird little flutter in my chest and the uneasy sense I might’ve cared more than I should have.

I deserved answers, and I’d be okay with whatever he had to say.

Probably.

At least I would know, and I could finally lay the mystery of Tore Gallo to rest.

Chapter Eleven

Salvatore

The Past

Itwaslate,butI wasn’t tired, and nowhere near ready to end the night. After dinner, my driver took us on a meandering tour of the city. Near the arts district, Bea pointed toward a narrow, black row home, practically pressing her face to the window.

“I love that house. It’s me in house form.”

It was…a house. Distinctive only in its color and the matching black fountain in the small courtyard. But Bea loved it. Her longing for it was palpable.

“Is it for sale?”

She laughed. “The only way I could buy a house is if they took payment in hopes and dreams.”

Sighing, she tore her gaze from the street and turned it on me. “Can I show you something?”

“Please. Show me everything.”

We ended up perched on a large, flat boulder in the middle of nowhere, beneath a sky so crowded with stars, it felt surreal. Certainly not a view I had the privilege of seeing often in LA.

“Daisy likes to hike.” Bea shrugged. “I’m poor, and it’s free, so sometimes I’d go with her. This is one of the spots we discovered.”

“Do you come here alone at night?”