“What’s going on?” I press. “Tell me.”
His hand lands on my shoulder, and with a squeeze, he looks me dead in the eye. “I want you to be the godfather for my daughter, Bane. Trina and I are expecting a baby girl in six months.”
I turn to the side to face him. “What the fuck?”
His hand doesn’t move. “Trina insisted on waiting to tell anyone until she was past the first trimester. We talked about this, Kavan. Trina wants you to be the baby’s godfather as much as I do.”
I have no idea what the hell that entails, but I’d do anything for Graham and his wife.
“I’ll do it.”
He moves to embrace me. It’s only happened a handful of times during our friendship. Most notably, the night I was released from jail.
Graham flew down to Miami to hire the best attorney in the state to represent me. Sean and Harrison trailed after him on the first flight the following morning.
Two days later, I was out on bail and headed back to New York City with a cloud hanging over my head that has yet to leave.
I give him a hearty pat on the back. “Congratulations, Locke.”
Graham is on track toward the future he’s always desired, and I’ve taken the first step to escape the past I’ve never wanted.
This is a night we’ll both remember.
Chapter Sixteen
Juliet
I rush into the lobby of the building that houses Marks Creative’s offices.
It’s currently just past six p.m. on Saturday.
I was about to sit down for dinner with my sister at her favorite restaurant when I received a call from Mr. Marks.
My hands shook as I answered.
Margot was practically bouncing in her heels.
I haven’t explained my newest assignment to her because legally I can’t, and also, I don’t want to worry her.
If I tell her that I’m going to be spending a few days next week interviewing one of the most notorious accused murderers in the country, she’ll insist I take a job with her.
She’s been trying to get me on staff for more than a year.
First, she wanted me to work as her assistant. That would have been an epic fail since I have zero experience in that capacity.
Her second offer was to write all the website copy for Arten Lorey. I explained that my journalism degree didn’t afford me the insight I would need to make gingham napkins sound irresistible to her clientele.
The pay and perks were tempting, but journalism is where I want to make my mark.
I jab a finger into the elevator call button three times.
Mr. Marks sounded serious during our call. He requested a meeting as soon as possible. He didn’t need to tell me what it pertains to. I assume he wants an update on how my initial meeting with Kavan Bane went.
Fortunately, the NDA I signed at Mr. Bane’s office allows me to speak to Mr. Marks about my article.
I jump onto the elevator the moment the doors slide open. Pushing a finger against the button for the top floor, I take a breath.
This is what I’ve always wanted, yet, after spending most of today reading a book titled The Bad Bane, I feel a knot of anxiety deep inside.
That book, written by a reporter based in Miami, portrays Kavan as a heartless killer with no regard for anyone.
That doesn’t match with the man who saved me in the alley from the mugger.
That man showed compassion and concern.
He also said something to the mugger that convinced him to tell the police that I was the one who restrained him. I imagine Mr. Bane did that to keep his name out of it.
I understand why.
Even though the charges against him were dropped, he’s still an accused murderer in everyone’s eyes.
I have to wonder if that’s who he is to me.
I shake off those thoughts and turn to look at one of the mirrored walls in the elevator car. I’m wearing an off-the-shoulder black and white fitted dress and a pair of red-soled heels my sister bought me last year. I don’t consider this look professional, but there was no time for me to race home from the restaurant to change into something else.
Mr. Marks didn’t summon me here for a fashion show. He brought me here because of the assignment he trusted me with. That assignment is about to change my life forever.
“Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice.”
I glance across the desk at Mr. Marks. Apparently, Saturdays aren’t casual days for him. He’s dressed as he always is in a dark blue suit complete with a bowtie.
“Of course, sir.”
He nods. “Were you able to meet with Mr. Bane last night?”
Crossing my legs, I lean back in the chair. “Yes, it was brief, but we met.”
“Good,” he says as he studies my face. “I’m wondering about something, Juliet.”