Page 32 of Damián

“Point taken… You’re a scary man, Oliver West.”

“I’m a desperate man,” I correct him. “And speaking of knowing most things about you… You need a new apartment to keep as a front and a new identity.”

“Alexios already erased my entire life and connections to Harknett.”

“Online, yes, but when we become public, my father’s men will eventually follow you. I don’t want them to see the real Damián Soto when they do. Did this Alexios already give you another identity?”

“He’s working on it.”

“Do you know anything about art?” I ask, and he nods. “Tell him to add ‘art dealing’ to your profile; Elijah will like you right away.”

Damián takes out a phone and starts texting.

“The jammer is still on…”

“I know.” He turns and shows me his phone the same way a kid would show off a new, expensive toy. “This sexy thing is an Ultra-Wideband.”

And okay, I am impressed. I’ve always wanted one.

“Let me guess… Alexios?”

“Yep,” he says as he finishes his text and sends it.

“I need to meet that Alexios guy.”

“Why?”

“He sounds super cool.” I shrug and sigh. “Maybe I picked the wrong Harknett to be my boyfriend.”

“Hey! Not even two minutes of a fake relationship, and you’re already replacing me? Ah! The betrayal.”

BZZT… BZZT.

Damián opens his phone and checks the text. “My team says they’re adding the art dealer part to my profile and that I’ll have a penthouse in Soho by Tuesday.”

“Penthouse?”

“Yes. Rich people are more open and quicker to trust those who also have money. Most think others won’t try to use them for what they have when they already have it themselves.”

“Sounds about right.” I check the timer I set for the signal jammer. “We have less than two minutes left. Anything else we need to discuss?”

“No. You?”

“No…” I say, and look around in different directions to decide where to go.

“You don’t have anywhere to take me, do you?”

“No… But I can’t drop you back without looking suspicious.”

“Need help getting out of this? I can text my team to give me an urgent call so that the van following us can hear.”

“Is that a thing? I thought that only happened in movies when the actress wanted to get out of a shitty date.”

“Oh, it’s a thing. And a very useful one.”

As Damián types another text, the alarm I set for ten minutes starts to beep, and the jammer turns off.

“But that is the stupidest thing to be worried about,” I say, the first thing that comes to my mind. “But I guess Zara is that way.”