Page 77 of Koroleva

"I thought you came with someone."

"If you mean my men, they're waiting in their car; when I come to play, I leave them out." So they were there. "Did you come with Romeo?"

"No," I replied quickly, "his son is out riding motorcycles with Adriano. You know, father-son day, they needed their space."

"I see," he narrowed his eyes. "And I heard you came to have lunch with Davencroft? I didn’t know you knew each other."

The man next to me was stiff as a board. No wonder he was sweating up to his brow. Nobody wanted to cross Massimo Capuleto.

"The world is a small place," I responded cryptically.

"And how do you know each other?" he insisted. I fixed my pupils on the eyes of the stranger hoping he would help me out, I had no damn idea who he was or what might connect us. Dressed like that, he could even own a funeral home.

"His... His daughter-in-law once came to my law firm, some time ago," he intervened, saving my neck. A lawyer, I should have guessed, his stance reeked of a litigator.

"Exactly," I snapped my fingers. "She needed the services of a lawyer, I heard about him and, on one of my visits to Spain, I came to see him."

"Curious," my father-in-law pondered without letting me finish.

"Why?" I questioned, pursing my lips. "His references were excellent."

"And they still are," my father-in-law continued, "only Davencroft is a matrimonial lawyer and, as far as I know, you weren't married yet..."

"Shit! I didn’t calculate that."

"It wasn’t for me, it was for my mother," I blurted out quickly. She was the only one in my family who had been married until she became a widow.

"Your mother?"

"Yes, my parents went through a terrible crisis," I improvised, "and she considered divorcing a few months before my father passed away. In the end, everything calmed down, and we didn't need Davencroft to go ahead with the divorce papers."

"And months later your father died," he commented, dragging out the words. Was he suggesting that I had something to do with that? No, he couldn't be.

"Yes, exactly," I replied tersely.

"Life can be so tragic. I didn't know anything about your mother," he murmured restrainedly.

"It's not something Mom likes to air. Even my sisters don't know, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell them anything."

"Of course... You have my word, Massimo Capuleto’s word, you know I don’t give it lightly." He glanced towards the lawyer. "And today you were meeting to...? Is everything okay with my son?" What a mess! Now he thought I wanted a divorce.

"It’s not what it looks like, I just wanted some lawyer referrals for the Mentium issue and I met with Davencroft to recommend someone. He struck me as very reliable last time." The lawyer hadn’t said a word. He was staying out of it to avoid saying anything inappropriate. What a mess I had put him in.

"You know we're family now, you can use my own lawyers, no offense to Davencroft’s acquaintances. There’s no need for him to recommend anyone, your interests are also ours, Nikita."

"I didn’t want to impose..." I murmured.

"You never impose, you're as adorable as your mother." His remark felt like a blow. He took my hand and kissed the back of it. "Isn’t my daughter-in-law adorable?" he inquired, looking at the lawyer.

"Very much so, a worthy wife for your son," he admitted. The familiarity between them made me realize that their relationship extended beyond just seeing each other at the club, or knowing who each one was.

My father-in-law was not wearing a suit. He was dressed as a golfer, with gray checkered long pants and a light blue polo. The glove he wore on his right hand caught my attention. Had he put it on so as not to leave fingerprints on the weapon he used to shoot me? I interrupted my thoughts with a question.

"Did you come to play?"

"Yes, your mother, your sisters, and Juliet went shopping, so I arranged to play with Davencroft. That’s why I was surprised he didn't mention your lunch..." He stroked the end of his thin mustache.

"My fault!" I suddenly exclaimed. Romeo and I overslept last night... Well, you understand," I lowered my voice on purpose. His eyes sparkled. "So, I arrived an hour late, I’m the worst."

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