Page 52 of Mercy (The Sins Trilogy 3)
“Huh?”
“You were frowning.”
“Just thinking about some stuff I need to get done,” I say, feeling guilty I’m hiding wanting to know about Katherine. But I’m afraid to bring it up and ruin his day. I’ll talk with him about it later, after I know a bit more about the circumstances surrounding her death.
The Cullinan stops in front of the skyscraper that houses the foundation.
“Have a great day,” I say against his mouth.
“You too.”
“Lunch?”
A rueful smile. “Meetings.” He dips his head and whispers, “I’ll make it up to you tonight.” He nips my ear.
My cheeks grow warm. I poke his ticklish spot. “I thought you wanted me to sleep more.”
“We’ll go to bed early.”
Laughing, I exit the car and enter the lobby.
Bobbi has parked her Escalade and follows me in. “Good to see you happy. I thought you’d make him suffer more.”
“Why? You and I both knew I would forgive him.”
“Yeah, but you don’t want your man to know that. You’ve got to keep them on their toes. Make ’em work to win you over. Otherwise they take you for granted.”
If Bobbi said that about anybody but Tony, I’d agree. But he’s different. He suffered for so long, so hard for me that I don’t think he’ll ever take me for granted. And I just can’t stay upset with him for long.
“If he works any harder, I won’t be able to bear it.”
When the elevator opens on the foundation’s floor, Bobbi and I step out. I snap my fingers. Harry! Why didn’t I think of him? He was in Tempérane when Katherine died. Although he was young, he’ll know about the situation.
“Do you know Harry’s number?” I ask Bobbi.
“Tony’s younger brother?”
“Uh-huh.”
She shakes her head. “He’s never been a client.”
Figures.
“Just ask Tony or Wei. They’ll tell you.”
I sit at my desk and boot my laptop, then pull out my phone. My finger hesitates over Tony’s name. If I ask him, he’s going to want to know why. And since we promised never to lie to each other, I’d have to tell him I want to see Harry to talk about what Margot said—Katherine’s death.
I should’ve gotten Harry’s number earlier somehow. Maybe Bobbi can ask TJ, without telling him it’s for me…
Elizabeth stops at my desk, carrying a mug of coffee. In a bright pink Versace and diamonds, she looks like she should be doing a photo shoot for an upscale café ad.
“Morning. Anything wrong?” she says.
“I’m sorry?”
“You were scowling at your phone.”
“Oh.” I put the phone down and smile sheepishly. “I was thinking…” Wait. Elizabeth might know. “Do you know Harry Blackwood’s number?”
