Delgano: A Dark Contemporary Interracial Romance

She swallowed her first response, along with the pain she’d been shoving down for years. “Mora, you’re a Lieutenant General who recruits killers for a living, and my father used to be one of those killers. In a way, he also took an oath—to work for you.”

“I’m not a sociopath like your father.”

“Oh, so he’s a sociopath now?”

“You were the one who broke into my files,” Mora continued. “You did all that reading and skimming, and you didn’t see any of that? Any of his profile and details? You only see what you want to see?”

“I didn’t break into your files.”

“Then how do you know anything about him?”

“I’m going off of what you’ve told me.”

And what Atlas had shared.

It was the basis of their interaction—he gave her information, and she dug stuff up to send him in return. It started as an act of rebellion, but she trusted a name on a computer screen more than she trusted her mother these days.

Mora rolled her eyes and massaged her temples in large circles. “You know what? That’s water under the bridge. It’s been much easier now that you know about your father and me. Also, I can’t blame you for the way that you feel. Little girls do tend to idolize their fathers, as deadbeat as those fathers might be.”

“You weren’t in my life either, Mora. Sometimes, I feel like you’re mad at him and taking it out on me. Aunt Jackie said you pushed him away. Is that true?”

“Jackie doesn’t know shit.”

Sayeda chewed on her bottom lip.

Mora shuddered her way back to composure. “Anyway, you avoided my question earlier. Answer me, Sayeda. Do you like Adrían?”

Of course, she liked Adrían.

Under different circumstances, normalcy for them would have been going to the movies or having drinks with friends. Under those same circumstances, she might have even been his girlfriend.

“I do like him.”

“Have you had sex with him?”

“Again, Mora. I’m still a virgin.”

For now.

If the man she knew was indeed the man he was, her being smitten was merely the beginning.

“Can we switch focus?” she suggested. “Is everything still on track with Qasim and Ahmed’s extraction? Because a man showed up at the ‘safe house’ a few days ago, and honestly, he seemed like he had screws loose or something. Gave me seventies serial killer vibes.”

Her mother set her chin on her palm and studied her with dead eyes. “Really? And what, you told Adrían, and now he’s going to handle it? Be your protector? Are you still reading those romance novels? You know life doesn’t work that way, right?”

Sayeda exhaled, watching as invisible “fucks” and “damn its” sailed away on the breath.

“Sweetheart, under no circumstances do you ask Adrían to help you. That’s an order. You’ve already screwed up by telling him your name. This isn’t a game.”

“The serial killer asked me if I recognized some names.”

“Oh? And what names are those?”

“Ty Wolfe, Zach Wolfe, Steven Wolfe, Anne Wolfe.”

“And did you? Do you?”

“No.”