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"Thank you for your time,” I said. “I appreciate it."
He blinked at me owlishly. "That's it?"
"Yeah, that's it."
"And you're not going to tell him about me, right?"
I shook my head. "No. But maybe stay close to the garage for the next few weeks. And stay out of trouble, okay? No more going back to the building. I don't want him to find you there."
"Sure. Um, thanks."
I shrugged. "Of course."
The kid took off running down the alley and then out into the street. As soon as he was gone, Atticus turned to me. "Just what the fuck are you doing out here?"
I crossed my arms and lifted my chin. "I actually got information out of the kid. Your wonder twin over here would have scared him half to death."
"That's the point. That's how you get information."
"There's more than one way to skin a cat. And you catch a lot more flies with honey than with vinegar."
He rolled his eyes. "Are you done with the clichés? I gave you strict instructions to stay in the car."
I fixed a sassy smirk on my face. "You're going to have to realize, Atticus Price, that sometimes you need the backup. He came running out. If we hadn't been here, he might have made it to the street, and then you would have lost him."
"No, I wouldn't have."
"Okay, whatever you say."
"I gave you instructions to stay in the car,” he repeated.
"Well…" I tilted my chin up at him, giving him a sassy smirk. "There’s one thing you should remember, Atticus Price; I do not work for you."
19
Gwen
I was late. I only had thirty minutes to get dressed and ready. Atticus was meeting me at the restaurant. Of course, I'd gotten a little distracted at work, so that meant I had to hurry. Twenty-nine minutes now.
The photo recognition took a moment to activate, but then the doors finally slid open, and I ran in, tossing my keys in the bowl in the vestibule and jogging through the foyer before I realized I heard voices in the living room. When I rounded the corner, there was my sister, animatedly chatting with her hands, braids piled high on her head, a few curls hanging down in tendrils to frame her face. God, she looked like our mom. She was talking to a blond-haired woman who had her back turned to me. When Morgan saw me, she grinned.
"There you are. Remember how I said I was doing a paper on New York's oldest charities and the women behind them? I want you to meet Lucy Dexton."
And even though I was in a rush and moving at a rapid pace, the world slowed down as a very familiar woman turned around. Her smile was wide. It was Lucy. My husband's ex.
I stopped so abruptly that I wobbled in my heels and face-planted right over the back of the couch. I quickly righted myself. "Oh, um, hello again."
Morgan stood up, confusion written on her face. "This is my sister Gwen making the grand entrance. Gwen, this is Lucy."
"Um, yeah,” I stuttered. “Actually, we've met. At my engagement party."
Morgan's brows lifted, and Lucy stood and said, "Hi, Gwen. It's good to see you again. I guess your sister didn't tell you I'd be coming."
I shook my head. "No, Morgan didn't mention it. But I didn't know she was interviewing people at the house."
I knew that the guys downstairs wouldn't let her pass if she didn't have clearance, so she must be safe, but when did that happen?
"Yeah, your sister and I have just been talking about charities and the different foundations I've been on. It's been a lovely chat. I understand that you and your sister were running Hearts and Hope. I'm so sorry to hear that the previous gala was the last of its kind. It was an institution that was so well attended over the last decade or so."
