Page 70 of Confession
Dulce is my cousin’s restaurant, my territory. A risk for her.
The waiter opens the $600 bottle of wine and pours a taste into each of our glasses. At Cecilia’s appreciative sound, he pours for us both and leaves the bottle. Plates of bruschetta sit before each of us.
Cecilia settles back with her wine, swirling it elegantly. “You’re in love with him.”
“Yes.” There’s no point in denying it.
“He’s very handsome. If you like rugged men.”
“Oh, I do.”
My eyes flick across the room to where Quinn is keeping an eye on me from the bar. I wish, abruptly and searingly, that he were the one sitting across from me.
“You forgave him?” Cecilia asks.
“What was to forgive? He chose me.”
Her dark eyes study me. “So you won’t use the evidence,” she concludes.
“No, but there are other paths to what I want. I might choose a path that could converge with one you might choose.”
“That would be interesting.”
“And mutually beneficial.”
She swirls her wine and sips. “What are you thinking?”
“How far are you prepared to see things go?” I take a bite of bruschetta. Fuck, it’s good. I want Quinn to taste it.
“My brother is a careless fool. He’s unfit to run our family business, and soon my father won’t be able to. I believe in being proactive.”
“We have that in common.”
Cecilia sips her wine again. “I wonder. If we laid certain … grievances to rest, how might business flourish atop the grave of those grievances?”
“It would be interesting to find out.”
She smiles. “My brother wants to kill you.”
“I know.”
“It’s not as simple as you think. Or perhaps it’s simpler? He claims it’s to eliminate the possibility of Quinn passing the evidence to you—obviously now moot—but the real truth is that he’s never quite recovered from Quinn’s betrayal. A powerful motivation, revenge.”
“Indeed.”
“It occurs to me, then, how easy it might be for me to … send him in your direction. He knows I’m here tonight.” When I tense slightly, she cocks her head to the side. “What choice did I have, coming here? He thinks I’m lying to you, putting myself forward falsely.”
“I see.”
“Easy, then, to tell him of another meeting, one where you might be more exposed. Where he might, perhaps, try to kill you. And you could, in self defense of course, act in kind.”
“Your father might react badly to that.”
“Of course. But he would be forced to recognize the justification.”
“By you?”
“Naturally.” She shrugs elegantly. “Dying? Grieving? He’ll yield to me.”
