Page 46 of Ruthless Vengeance
Clara’s smile fades slightly as I cross the room and take Zoe from her. “What’s going on?”
I sit beside her on the couch, balancing Zoe on my lap as I try to think of a way to ask Clara to speak with Ben without coming across like a selfish prick. "Ben is telling the truth, at least the stuff about Cillian."
I told her about my “talk” with her brother and his intentions, but I also told her I’d check him out first, so she knew this was a possibility, even if we both wish it wasn’t.
Her entire body goes still, so I reach out to place my hand on her knee, squeezing it once.
"I still don’t trust him. But I trust my sources, and they’re backing up his claims. So…I’m leaving it up to you."
Clara’s brows furrow. "Leavingwhat up to me?"
"If you want to hear him out or not.”
She exhales slowly as she looks at Zoe. She brushes a thumb gently over her cheek, lost to her own thoughts for a moment. When Clara eventually looks back at me, her eyes are filled with a silent determination.
"If there’s even a chance he knows something important, then I’ll listen. But I don’t owe him anything, Marco. He stopped being my family a long time ago."
I nod, feeling a sense of relief at her words. “I hope you know I don’t take your help for granted, and that you can always change your mind.”
“I know.” She offers me a smile.
I lean in to press a quick kiss to her lips.
I really need to get going if I’m going to make my meeting in the city, but then I catch sight of my laptop on the coffee table, and a thought crosses my mind.
"Have you applied for fashion school yet?" I bounce Zoe on my knee.
Clara rolls her eyes. “Marco, I only made the decision yesterday.Besides, applications for this semester are already closed, so I’ll have to wait to apply until next term.”
I can tell she’s trying to sound nonchalant, like it doesn’t bother her, but I know her too well by now.
I lean into her so I can brush a kiss against her temple. "We’ll see about that.”
She laughs. "What does that mean?"
I smirk. "It means I have a meeting to get to. But I’ll be home in time for dinner.”
I hand Zoe back to her.
The moment I’m out the door and heading across the drive toward my car, I decide to make a call to an old friend who might be able to help with Clara’s application to fashion school.
It rings twice before my old friend, Max, picks up. "Marco. it’s been a while. How’s things?"
"Not as good as with you, I’m sure.”
He laughs. “You got that right. Now, what can I do for you?”
I open the car door and slide into the driver's seat. “I need to ask a favor.”
There’s a pause, followed by a deep rumbling chuckle. “What kind of favor?"
"Your wife, is she still on the board for the New York Institute of Fashion?"
"She is." Max’s voice is laced with curiosity. "Why?"
I glance in my side mirror, watching the house grow smaller as I drive away, thinking of the sad look in Clara’s eye when she talked about being too late to apply.
"I know someone who wants to apply, but she missed the deadline for this semester.”
