Page 119 of Chaotic Curse
“And he heard me,” I say.“But hearing and listening are different verbs.”
“Mmm.”
Robin clearly wants to say something.Something about Hawk.Something about me.But she keeps her mouth shut.For now, at least.I appreciate it.I don’t want to cause family turmoil.Hawk needs his brothers and sisters.
Vinnie wipes his mouth with his napkin.“Tomorrow I’ll keep digging on Ramirez, Klein, and Valentini.But maybe Dani’s right.Maybe the chocolates are where we start.Let’s see what her chef has to say.And then we can look at the other gifts, see if there’s some sort of other clue.Maybe the card wasn’t a threat after all.”
“What the hell else could it be?”Raven demands.
“Anything,” he says.“A map, maybe.”
“A map?”Raven shakes her head.“Come on, Vinnie.”
“Baby,” he says, “trust me on this.I saw things while I was on the run that would make your head spin, and when I returned, I saw things from my own grandfather that made those other things look like child’s play.These people leave clues.Some in plain sight, and others you have to dig for.As weird as it seems, the chocolate might be a clue.I know I didn’t think so at first, but now that I think about it, my gut is telling me that Dani may be onto something.”
After we’ve all had enough coffee, Vinnie retires to his office, and Raven goes to help Phyllis in the kitchen.Robin waylays me on my way back to my place.
“Are you sure about trusting Vinnie on Vega?”
“Yes.”
She nods.“I love Vinnie.He’s a great guy and is going to make a great husband to Raven, but something doesn’t sit right with me.I’m glad you trust him, but call me if you don’t want to sleep alone.”
“I’m okay.”
“Sure.”She gives me a quick hug and then heads toward the doorway.
I head back to my suite and set the bag of chocolates on my kitchen counter like I’m placing evidence.I go to the bedroom, wash my face, change into lounging pants and a soft tank.Then I return to the kitchen, grab the bag of chocolates, and set it on my night table.
I sit on my bed and stare at it as if it will answer all my questions.
You didn’t poison me.
So what are you?
I picture Chef Charleston.The way he broke down chocolate types.Belgian.Swiss.Mexican.Latin American.American.African.Fat content, temper, mouthfeel.
Maybe only one is an imposter.Maybe the imposter is the point.
A chill goes through me again.
This might be it.
I pick up the bag and slip it into the mini-fridge next to the other side of my bed.I text Chef Charleston.
Do you have time before class tomorrow to meet?I need a quick consult on chocolate variance for an independent project.
He texts back within a minute.
Certainly.Happy to help.Come a half hour before class.I’ll be in my office.
I text a thumbs up, and then I lie back.Stare at the ceiling.Breathe in.Out.In again.
Love is not a permit.
Protection is not a prison.
Chocolate is not poison.
