Page 61 of Devil's Bride

“Very sure.” Antonio walked closer. “I’ll get you up to speed.”

“Not tonight, but later tomorrow. I need to try and figure some things out.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Antonio started to leave but stopped. “If you don’t mind me saying so, you’re doing just fine.”

I laughed. Was it possible the sound could be any more bitter than it was? I didn’t think so.

When it was just the two of us again, I wasn’t certain I had any energy to keep on talking. Or bantering for that matter.

“You need to get some sleep.”

Emiliano was right, but I wasn’t certain that was even possible. “I’ll try. I think I’m going to try and watch a show.”

“A television show?” he grinned. He’d suffered through enough of my love of American-style movies and the binge watching I’d done over the years. “What will it be this time?CSI: MiamiorLaw and Order?”

“Oh, I definitely need some tips on forensics. Especially if the Moroccan guy is brought here.”

“You’re not required to handle every interrogation. You do know that. Right?”

“Are you giving me a pass, Emiliano?”

“I’m giving you a pass.”

I laughed. “Thanks, but I’m still on probation. Remember?”

“Not for much longer. For the record, you’re not a killer. Allow your men to do the dirty work.”

“Oh, goody. And I get to keep my hands clean.” I rubbed them together and he lifted a single eyebrow just like he’d done every time my behavior was questionable, or I’d worn something that he thought didn’t suit me.

Like every dress I’d ever molded my body into. Maybe because they’d been way too short.

He studied me intently. Another thing he did far too often.

“Just say it.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he answered.

“I know, which is why you need to. I’m out of my mind, perhaps? I’m a crazy old lady who has no clue what she’s doing and will manage to fuck everything up. Right? Or how about that I wouldn’t have a clue how to carve up a man anyway.”

Emiliano continued to stare at me. “You have good instincts. That’s what I was going to remind you of and I’ll do it again and again until you begin to believe in yourself. Go have some wine. If you’d like, I’ll find some donuts.”

“Oh, would you please? Pretty please with sugar on top?” I even clasped my hands together as if begging him.

“Are you serious?”

It was my turn to roll my eyes. “No amount of sugar-coated goodness is going to make any of this any easier. Go find a nice porn movie to watch.”

He growled and waved his hand at me.

When I was finally alone, I stepped back and almost fell before managing to catch myself by grabbing the edge of the desk. I had to laugh at myself, wondering if my father was rolling over in his grave.

A few seconds later I decided wine was the best choice for the evening. Whiskey would be too heavy. But I definitely needed something to calm my nerves and Papa had never allowed wine to be kept in his office. He’d called it pedestrian liquor. I used to laugh at that, but maybe he was right. Still, cabernet had been my go-to.

The donut of choice? Chocolate-covered gooey goodness with sprinkles. A perfect combination.

I pulled the ponytail holder from my hair, tossing my head from side to side as I headed for the kitchen. I’d opened a bottle earlier, taking a few sips before the meeting. My father used to tell me that liquid courage wasn’t always a bad thing, but drowning in wanton unruliness was an affront to God.

His statement had been made as if he’d heard it from the big man above himself. Maybe he had. My father had truly been a powerful man. I paled in comparison.

---