Temo chuckled. “Doesn’t hurt that people also know about your human history. Adds to your street cred, if you know what I mean.”
Donna had a pretty good idea. “You mean that I was married to a mobster?”
He nodded. “That would be the history I’m talking about.”
She pressed her fingers to her temple. “You know, that isn’t really history in the sense that it’s behind me. I mean, Joe’s dead, but I haven’t fully extricated myself from the Villachi family. And there’s some complications with the Russian mob too.” She shook her head. “I do hope to take care of all of that as soon as possible.”
Temo’s brows lifted. “You need help, boss, you just ask us, okay? Again, that’s what we’re here for, you know? Not just helping you keep appointments and protecting you and driving you places. Think of us as your personal soldiers. I can’t speak for Charlie, but I’m down to crack skulls together if need be.”
Yep, her very own lunk. “That is very kind of you, but—and not to be indelicate—aren’t you human?”
Temo laughed. “Not entirely. I’m a descendant of Mafui’e, the Samoan god of earthquakes.”
Donna blinked. “Wouldn’t that make you a demigod? My driver is a demigod?”
He shrugged one massive shoulder, but he was still smiling. “The bloodline is a little too dilute to call myself a demi, but I have enough of my family’s powers to be effective as muscle when needed.”
“But you’re working as a driver and security. That doesn’t seem like a job befitting your obvious skills.”
“I was a bouncer in Manhattan when Artemis found me. I like this a lot better. And not just because the pay is about fifteen times what I was making at Spotlight.”
She looked at Charlie. “And you? Are you also something more than human?”
“Half banshee on my mother’s side with a smidgen of fire mage on my dad’s side.” Flames crackled in her gaze. “It’s a very useful set of skills in the right situation.”
Donna shook her head. “Wow, this is all good to know. Especially if the Russians come calling. And on that note, I think Pierce and I should head home before the sun comes up. I’ll see you both tomorrow night, and we can talk some more.”
Charlie nodded. “I look forward to working with you, Governor.”
“Same to both of you.” A banshee and a demigod. Things were certainly getting interesting.
Chapter Three
Pierce was driving, something he’d told Donna he thought he should do as her assistant. She’d let him, only because she wanted to see what kind of driver he was. People who lived in the city weren’t always great on the road because they drove so infrequently, but he was doing fine.
Okay, he was also driving because he had an Aston Martin. She’d never ridden in one before, and now that she had, she was a little bit in love. It was a gorgeous piece of machinery.
Didn’t hurt that James Bond drove one.
But she was letting her mind wander, and she had something important to talk to him about. She watched his face now to see his reaction. “I think…I should move into that apartment.”
“Okay.” His brows went up a little, but he nodded. “What changed your mind?”
“A couple things. The security. The freedom from Big Tony and his cranky wife dropping by. Making it harder for the Russians to find me. And I’m suddenly feeling like I should fully embrace this new life. I mean, go feetfirst into the deep end. And just to keep the whole foot metaphor going, how do I do that if I still have one foot in my old life?” She took a deep breath. “What do you think?”
He nodded, a slight smile on his mouth. “I’m all for it. If that’s what you want, then by all means, go for it. Your reasons are all valid and great points for making the move.” He glanced over. “You’re going to be amazing as governor.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” He was so good to have around. Good for her ego and her confidence, but also great company. He was the kind of level-headed sounding board she’d always wanted in a partner. Instead, she’d ended up with a man who thought everyone was out to get him. Or he’d been working on a way to get them. “I want to sell the house anyway. It’s too big for me and has too many memories I’d rather let go of.”
“You’ll have to buy a second place at some point.”
She let out a little laugh. “You mean in case I’m suddenly not governor anymore like Claudette?”
He shrugged. “I don’t think anything remotely similar is going to happen to you, but you should still have a place that’s exclusively yours. Just so all your eggs aren’t in one basket. And so you have a place to escape to if the need arises. There might come a time when you don’t want to be as accessible as the governor’s estate makes you.”
“Good point. And I agree. I was going to buy a condo in the Florida Panhandle, but I think something closer makes more sense. Something I can get to in a couple hours, tops.”
He nodded. “Exactly. You’ll easily be able to afford it, too, when you sell the house.”
“And Joe’s cars, which I’d like to get rid of as well.”
“That should be easy to do. They’re nice cars. I could take care of that for you, if you want. Did he keep them well maintained?”
“Yes. He was anal about it. Especially the Ferrari. If you want to handle that, I’d be grateful.”
Pierce’s fingers drummed the steering wheel. “You know, I’m pretty sure I could get more for those cars than they’re worth.”
“How?”
“Make a big deal about who they belonged to. If you’re all right with that.”
She thought about it. About cashing in on her husband’s status as an infamous mobster. “I guess that would be okay.”
“I don’t have to. I just thought—”
“No, it’s a good idea. And why not? About time Joe did something positive for me.”
“I’ll get to work on it first thing in the morning.”
“Thank you. And speaking of money, I don’t even know what my salary is. Or yours.” She looked at the welcome packet on her lap. “You think that info is in here?”
“Open it and see.”
She slipped her nail under the flap and opened the envelope, then slid the contents onto her lap. A welcome letter was on top of a small bundle of papers. She scanned it. “Blah, blah, blah, nothing here about salary. Let me dig.”
She found what she was looking for on the next piece of paper. And gasped. “This can’t be right.”
“What’s it say?”
“My assistant makes three million a year.” She looked at him. “I hope that’s enough. I’m sure you make more than that as an attorney.”
“Actually, that’s a little above what I cleared last year.” He was smiling. “And I’m okay with that. But I don’t think that’s what made you gasp.”
“You’re right, it wasn’t.” She stared at the paper in front of her, at the number there in black and white. “I get ten. Ten million. A year.” The words didn’t mean anything. The sum was too large to grasp.