Page 42 of Sinful Deception

“There is no beef.” I lean on the edge of Minka’s desk and cross my arms. “You’re my brother, which makes you their brother. There’s no questioning that.”

“Arch—”

“This is your call. But if you’re worried about having enough hands, then I’m telling you it’s a done deal. We take care of those we love, no matter what. No matter how far we have to travel or how many times we’ve argued.”

“Or we can have the casket placed on the pulleys before we arrive,” Minka reminds him. “If the alternative is too much stress for you right now, there are options that simplify the process.”

“I mean…” He draws a shuddering breath deep into his lungs and hesitantly peers my way. “Felix has to stay with his wife in New York. She’s sick, so dragging him across would be shitty.”

“He’ll make it work. And if he can’t—if he absolutely cannot find a way to be here on the day you need family—then he’ll send a proxy.”

“Frank looks pretty strong,” Aubree teases. “Kinda sexy, if you’re into the reserved and slightly terrifying type.”

Minka tosses a pen at her colleague and reaches into her drawer for another. “You’re not allowed to think other people are sexy anymore. Your relationship with the don says so.”

“First of all,” she picks up the pen and flicks it between her fingers, “he’s not the don. He’s just named after one. And second, I didn’t suddenly go blind just because he thinks he has a claim now.”

“Thinks.” I reach around and scratch the back of my neck. Funny how breeding and muscle memory still have nerves running through my blood, because the thought of questioning a Timothy comes with the promise of pain.

Not the Tim we know. Never him. But the instinct is still there.

“Pretty sure the ring on your finger says otherwise, Emeri.”

“He understands my eccentricities,” she quips. “It’s hardly reasonable to expect a woman to live in this city and notaccept there are sexy men all around. Daddy Mayor is a prime example.”

“For god’s sake.” Minka presses the pads of her fingers to her eyes and groans. “Can we stop calling him that? The first time it accidentally slips past my lips when I’m talking to him, I’m going on a murder spree. Nothing could top the humiliation I would feel in that moment.”

“She wishes she could admit he’s hot,” Aubree taunts. “But she’s got daddy issues and is already at a social disadvantage. It simply wouldn’t come naturally for her to acknowledge such deep-seated, baser feelings.”

“Fletch?” Her eyes are hard with a glare she means for someone else. “Carrying or not?”

“Carrying.” He swallows when he looks my way, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement. “Please. It’s how I think I could show my respect. But Mia would have to stand with?—”

“We won’t leave her alone for a single second.” She writes her notes, but peeks up at him from beneath her lashes. “I promise. Outfits for the day?”

“I already left a dress with the funeral home and?—”

“I mean yours.” She sets her hands atop her notes and smiles at him. “We’re three days out, and you still need something to wear. A suit is typical. But you’ll need an extra warm coat, since we’ll be outside. And Mia might want to wear a dress and stockings? Something cute and semi-formal, but still comfortable and warm.”

“I don’t…” Sighing, he sets his face in his hands as frustration builds. “I have a suit. And Mia has dresses. So I guess I can probably just?—”

I look over to the opening door, my eyes flashing wide in stunned disbelief, but even if I wanted to say something, to warn Fletch of our visitor, the opportunity passes too quickly, because Seraphina rests her shoulder against the framing and offers asmall, terrified smile. “I would like to take Mia shopping for a dress, if that would be okay with you.”

His head snaps up, dangerously fast and painful when he spins to find the owner of the voice. But it’s Mia who squeals with delight and bursts into tears.

Happy tears. Sad tears.

Her emotions sit so impossibly close to the surface, her eyes brimming over. But then she takes off like a shot, crossing the office and throwing herself forward the way I’ve seen her do with her mother in the past. But where Jada let the girl crash into her legs, Fifi bends and sweeps the four-year-old into her arms.

“Oh my gosh, Fifi!” She wraps her arms around her neck and squeezes tight enough to cut the woman’s air off. “You’re here! I wished for you to come.”

Fifi cries, elegant tears slipping free of her eyes. But she turns her face and hides her vulnerable side, wiping her cheek on Mia’s sweater before she pulls back. “I’m so sorry I went away.”

“It’s snowing outside, Fifi.” She points wildly back in the direction she came, risking her safety if Fifi were to let go. But she’s so happy, tears dribble over her goofy grin and drip off the edge of her chin. “It’s snowing, and now you’re here! That means Mommy must’ve sent you.”

“Oh dear.” Minka slowly rises from her chair, nervously twining her fingers together and gritting her teeth. “Sorry. That was my fault. She?—”

“I’m happy that you want me here.” Instead of touching on the mommy thing, Seraphina allows Mia to grab a lock of her hair, to twist it around her finger and bring it up to tickle her chin. “I’ve missed you a lot since we last hung out.”

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