She laughs, pressing her palm against her chest. “Oh, that’s quite all right. I wasn’t expecting any visitors. Been a bit jumpy since Miss Evangeline got abducted.”
My stomach sours at the reminder. “That’s understandable.” I extend my hand. “I’m Graham.”
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Rosemarie. Miss Evangeline is still asleep. Should be up soon though.”
“Mr. Montalbano told me to grab some breakfast before Evangeline wakes up.”
“Of course. Let me make you a plate.”
“No, thank you. I can make my own.”
She offers me an appreciative smile. “I’m running out to grab a few groceries, then I’ll be back. Help yourself, there’s plenty of food.”
“Thanks. Uh, anybody here besides Evangeline? Don’t want to startle anyone else.”
Rosemarie shakes her head. “Selma, the housekeeper, should be here around eleven. Until then, it’s just us.” She scurries around me and disappears into the hallway.
I wait until I hear the click of the door, then I bolt out of the kitchen in search of Montalbano’s office.
This place is a fucking maze, taking up the entire top floor of the building. Most of the space is open-floor concept, but individual rooms become more secluded as the hallway continues. I pop my head inside each room until I find the one I’m looking for.
Not only is the office door unlocked, but it’s open. That tells me one of two things: Either Montalbano has nothing to hide, or nothing to fear. And if he thinks he has nothing to fear, then he’s dumber than I thought.
I start at his desk. This guy has some major OCD. Everything in his desk is labeled. Taxes, receipts—even the container of paper clips says Paper Clips. Everything is in its proper place, which means there’s nothing illegal or dirt-worthy here.
Unless everything’s labeled to throw someone like me off his scent. It’s too early to tell which of the two cases I’m dealing with here, but I know I’ll figure it out soon enough.
It’s scary how good I’ve become at finding the things people try so hard to hide.
I’d started working for my father with the misguided notion that I was helping people. Families who’d lost touch with their loved ones, women trying to catch their cheating husbands in the act. People are hurting all over the world, and I’d convinced myself that I was making a difference.
But this? Rifling through Montalbano’s desk in his home office while he’s at work? This helps no one but my father.
This makes me the piece of shit Dad primed me to be.
I search the desk for about ten minutes until the faint sound of a female voice floats into the room.
The princess is awake.
I shove the files I’m holding back into the drawer and dart into the hallway.
Now which way was the kitchen?
I go left, and the voice gets louder as I creep down the hall. She’s singing. I can make out the lyrics the closer I get, and I can’t help the tip of my lips when I reach the scene in the kitchen.
Eva’s wrapped in a furry leopard robe and matching slippers, with her back to me. Her black and red hair is in a mess of a knot on top of her head, and she’s singing into a butter knife as she piles her plate with pancakes and fruit.
She spins around to hit the last note of the chorus, eyes squeezed shut, belting it out with everything she’s got.
Totally off-key, might I add.
But fuck if she’s not the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen.
I’m mesmerized by her. So much so that I forget she has no idea I’m standing here, inside her home. She opens her eyes and shrieks, piercing my eardrums—along with the sound barrier—and tosses her plate at me like a frisbee. I put my hands up to block it, and it shatters when it hits the floor, pancakes and blueberries scattering around the tile.
“What the fuck are you doing in here, you freak?”
“Your father let me in. He—”
“My father.” She laughs. “Let a strange man into your home while your daughter is naked in her bed. Father of the fucking Year.”
I cock an eyebrow. “You sleep naked?”
Redness tinges her cheeks. “Get. Out!”
Instead of leaving, which would be the proper thing to do, I step further inside the kitchen. Her eyes go wide as I reach around her for my coffee cup that’s sitting on the counter behind her and take a sip. Then, I turn around and make myself a plate with pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs.
I gesture to the floor with my fork. “You might want to clean that up. Blueberries will stain that expensive white tile. Then again, you probably have people who do that for you. Do you snap your fingers, or just ring a little bell?”
She steps into my space, her furry robe hitting my bicep, gritting her teeth as she glares up at me. “Fuck you. I don’t snap my fingers at anyone.”
I pop a piece of crispy bacon into my mouth. “Surprising.”
“You have your food, asshole. Now leave.”
“Almost done.” I grab the jug of syrup and pour it over everything on my plate, earning me a scoff of disgust from Princess Trust Fund. “Can’t forget the syrup. Knowing your family, it probably came fresh from a maple tree this morning.”
She plants her hand on her hip. “You don’t know shit about my family.”
“I know you’re not using store brand like the rest of us peasants.”
Steam should be shooting out of her ears with how red her face is. I’m pushing all the right buttons, and I’m enjoying it way too much. Eva is a ball of fire when she’s angry, and for some reason, I want to keep fueling the flame.
“Are you done now?”
I nod and carry my plate to the doorway, careful to not squish the blueberries beneath me.
I stop and turn my head to look at her over my shoulder. “By the way, Linkin Park? Good choice, though you were a little pitchy there at the end.”
“Ugh!” she screeches.
And I duck as a muffin hurtles through the air.
Eva
Big Guy is out of breath when he arrives at The Waldorf Astoria hotel.
Twenty minutes after me.
I can’t help the grin that splits my face. Serves him right for the way he scared the shit out of me and then insulted me in my own kitchen earlier.
“Is this how it’s going to be?” He lumbers toward me, his chest and shoulders heaving. “I have to chase you down every time you leave the house?”
I give a noncommittal shrug. “I thought you were right behind me.”
“Bullshit.”
He presses on his abdomen like he has a cramp, and I roll my lips together to keep from laughing.
“You’re out of shape, Big Guy.”
“Look, if something happens to you and I’m not with you, your father’s going to fire me.”
“That’s the point, genius.”
“If it’s not me, it’ll just be someone else. He’ll hire another. Someone older, someone who can’t protect you like I can.”
“Because you’re such a big, tough man?” I roll my eyes. “Nothing’s going to happen to me in broad daylight. You’re just mad because you couldn’t keep up with me. Get over it.”