That's unusual for us; although Ronan isn't particularly talkative, I assumed he was busy given how everything unfolded a couple of months ago. He did have to wrap up the whole dead cop situation, so I’m sure he's been busy. Ronan prefers to handle things, well, with his bare hands. We often get sent in when you need information pulled out of someone or to do a cleanup.
"Not sure; he's been sticking to the city and overseeing the new warehouses we acquired."
"Acquired." I bark a laugh. If that's what he wants to call it. It's not difficult to do that if the owner is now dead. Convenient nonetheless.
It also worked in our favor that I was able to backtrack things to make it appear these dealings had been happening before both the father and son dropped dead. I mean, the father dropped dead, and the son is missing. He'll never be found. The only person who knows where that body might be is Ronan.
I'm sure he has a nice graveyard out there.
“I’ll send you the list and a few other things I need you to handle personally with a few of our accounts.”
“You want to move things around?”
“That’s the plan. Want everything to appear?—”
“Legal,” I fill in, War acting as though the word has a bitter taste to it. Legal or not legal, I could give a shit either way, but if War wants us to appear more like the Joneses, so be it.
Actually, the more I think about it, the more it has its appeal. There is a bigger picture I need to be considering, and that has everything to do with my family, one that is growing.
“Yes, legal.”
“Got it.” I drop my hand down on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze.
“I’m glad you’re home.” I nod in agreement. “And not only because it’s a convenience for work.”
“You going soft on me, War?” I tease.
“My wife would say I’m never soft.”
I chuckle. Glad I’m not the only one with that problem. “Did you actually crack a joke?” It’s not a side of him I’m used to seeing.
"Yes," War says, shifting his attention to where the girls disappeared. "And she didn't even get to hear it. My little mouse enjoys it when I make one occasionally."
"All right, man. Send me the list, and I'll send you a list of jokes to try out on your wife," I tell him before heading up to my room to shower. I make it a quick one, firing up my computer systems when I exit the bathroom.
I get dressed before dropping down into the chair at my desk, pulling up the list. As soon as I see the guests that are on it, I clench my teeth.
How I'm going to get through tonight without murdering anyone, I have no fucking clue.
Chapter Nineteen
COSIMA
Tova taps her foot as Rina styles her hair. We’ve been making small talk about what I’d been up to, and then we’d moved on to talk about books. As much as we love talking about books, I know it’s not what Tova wants to be discussing right now. She’s dying to get the tea, but she’ll just have to wait. It’s almost comical how she keeps having to stop herself from asking me.
I don’t think it dawned on her that we couldn’t have full-on girl talk with the two stylists here. I am letting the other, Abby, put makeup on me. I normally want to do it myself, but Tova already had them here.
“Don’t pin her bangs back,” I say when Rina starts to push them to the side with a glittery Dior clip.
“They’re long.” A few strands are catching on her glasses.
“They need to be trimmed.” Rina’s lips press together, and I know she’s fighting a retort. “Her husband loves her bangs. It’s her signature look.”
“Really?” Tova’s face lights up with a smile.
“Yes.” Tova has this soft beauty to her and a unique style not everyone could pull off.
Tova peeks up at Rina, and I know what she wants to say and do, but her politeness stops her. It's not about being rude but speaking up for yourself. Tova is getting there. I think she's still new to having any kind of say about things.
