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“So was the five. It should have been five times that amount when you consider what he did to you.”
I folded the paper again and tossed it on the table, meeting his gaze. “I did it to myself. I knew the risks when I decided to fuck with the mafia.”
“As did he, by living the life he did.” Leander lifted his cup in my direction and took a sip of his coffee.
Something in the way he said it, the way the corner of his mouth twitched, gave me a moment’s pause. Propping my elbows on the table, I laced my fingers together and leaned forward, watching him carefully. His gaze dropped to his eggs Benedict and he took an extraordinary amount of care cutting through the slice of carved ham.
“Leander?”
“Yes?” Now his attention was conveniently on the English muffin, dabbing up the perfect ratio of egg yolk to Hollandaise sauce.
“Look at me.”
He lifted his gaze at the same time he took a bite, eyebrows raised, chewing and conveniently masking his micro-expressions. Damn him.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I prompted.
“What do you mean?” He blinked, the perfect picture of innocence.
“If you had anything to do with this” — I pointed at the newspaper — “you need to tell me now.”
“Had anything to do with what?”
“Don’t do that. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
He bit another piece of ham off his fork, slowly, challengingly, looking every bit like a feline savoring its latest kill.
“I know how much you like doling out retribution, my love,” I continued, trying to rein in my frustration. “But ordering a hit on a mob boss comes with its own set of rules. You can’t just kill whoever you want, whenever you feel like it. There’s a certain way things have to be done.”
“Marchese had more enemies than you and I combined.”
I hit my forehead with my palm lightly. “Oh. Jeez. That’s right. How could I have forgotten?”
“Smart ass.” He rolled his eyes, taking another sip of coffee. “I don’t know why you’re not thrilled. The problem appears to have resolved itself, mon coeur.”
“Appearances are deceiving.” Rather than continue this frustrating dance, I decided to drop it and switch to another equally frustrating topic. “I forgot to tell you — I have to go the city next week.”
His fork dropped, clanking against the edge of the plate. “For what? The Bancroft meeting isn’t for another month.”
His reaction earned him another suspicious look from me. “I got a call from another lawyer up there. They said they had something important to discuss...”
“How mysterious.” He picked up the fork again and returned to cutting, so seamlessly I almost questioned what I saw in the first place.
“You know lawyers, never ones to divulge their hand until they’re forced to.” I smirked. Just like the eccentric millionaires I knew.
“When are you going?”
“Um, Tuesday. I think? Why?”
“So I know what day Olivia needs to re-arrange for me.”
“You don’t need to do that. I’m not staying the whole day.”
He frowned. “You don’t want me to go with you?”
“Want you to? Yes. But it’s really not necessary. I know how much you dislike anything north of Springfield.”
He shot me a fleeting glare. “Sometimes we have to make sacrifices for the ones we love.”
