Page 76 of Detectives in Love
“Just five?”
“Uh-huh.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch.” She shakes her head—then quickly adds, “Except Ormond needs to be there too.”
“Ah.” My lips twist. “There it is. Then no deal.”
“Why not?” Selena lifts an eyebrow.
“I don’t speak for Xavier,” I say flatly. “He makes his own calls. Goodbye.”
“How about this,” she says, not backing off. “I leave you the tracker, and you tell Ormond about my proposal. If you two decide you want to know more, we meet—and you answer my questions.”
She extends a hand. “Deal?”
I hesitate, frowning. I’m not exactly in the mood to agree to anything—but the thought of her trailing after me and Xavier catching up to us any second is worse. So I shake her hand.
“Fine,” I mutter. Not like I have anything to lose.
Selena smiles and hands me her business card. “Call me when you’re ready,” she says, tossing me a wink before heading back up the street.
I slip the card into my pocket and glance at the tracker.
The red dot blinks steadily—right next to Bolton West Street, marking my exact location.
I take the long way, weaving through backstreets before hitting the highway and ordering a cab. Soon I’m speeding toward Cottonhill Square in the city center. The light snowfallthickens, clinging to the windows, turning the gray cityscape into something out of a Christmas movie.
The cab’s heater hums, struggling to hold back the cold seeping in. I shiver—but not just from the temperature.
Xavier’s words loop in my head, a dull ache building behind my eyes.
You’re not my boyfriend. I don’t need you.
Then comes Monica’s soft, pitying voice:“…he just doesn’t seem like someone who knows how to care about people…”
I sigh. Meeting Katie is the last thing I want right now, but I’ll have to slap on a brave face and act like everything’s fine—just to get this over with.
I snap out of it when the driver asks, “Where should I drop you off?”
I glance out the window and realize we’re already passing Cottonhill Square. Traffic crawls in the next lane, brake lights glowing red through the thickening snow.
“Here’s fine, thanks.”
The cab pulls to the curb. I step out and hurry toward La Marseillaise, the Independence Monument looming behind me. The café is just around the corner, its red awnings vivid against the gray sky, the yellow lettering barely visible through the slanting snow.
I push through the glass door, shaking off the snow as I step inside.
“Welcome,” a waitress chirps, smiling at me.
I mumble a greeting, and she leads me to a table by the window. The place is packed, the air buzzing with low chatter and the clink of cutlery.
I order coffee and check the time on my phone. I’m too early—forty-five minutes to kill before Katie shows up.
I grab a discarded newspaper from the windowsill and flip it open, my mind still tangled in the fight with Xavier. It’s yesterday’sStandard, with Minister Craig’s photos plastered across a double-page spread. I sigh and scan the article.
CRAIG DENIES AFFAIR WITH MALE ADVISOR
