They took the Acura for the short drive to Amelia’s apartment. Their coffee cups sat in the console, steam fogging the lower windshield. The drizzle from earlier had settled into a faint mist.
“Tabitha’s… something,” Amelia said at last.
“She’s an acquired taste,” Chase said. “Like black licorice or existential dread.”
“I think I like her.” Amelia then added, “I like how she sees through people without making them feel exposed. It’s like she’s been watching the world, and not buying the act they are selling.”
“That’s how she gets you.”
They both smiled, the weight of the café visit – specifically the newspaper Snakes had slid across the counter – still hung between them.
“So,” Amelia said, shifting gears. “Before we forget: The ‘Announcement.’ You said you’d bring the truth.”
Chase sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “Vincenzo wants me to work for him. Officially.”
“I thought you already did. They’re Michael & Cole’s biggest client.”
“This is different. He’s launching a new division. Some ‘Philanthropic Venture Arm.’ He wants me to be the face of it. The consultant. The guy who convinces people that selling out is actually buying in.”
Amelia frowned. “Selling out to whom? El Viento?”
“To ‘human futures’,” Chase said, quoting with a grimace. “He wants to buy up local businesses. Revitalize the city. He specifically mentioned he has a team looking at places like Summers Brew.”
Amelia froze. “He wants to buy the café?”
“He wants to buy everything, Amelia. He’s playing ‘The Sims’ and we’re just NPCs. He even tried to frame it as ‘monetized benevolence.’”
She traced the rim of her cup, staring at the wet pavement. “And you told him no?”
“I told him I wasn’t shopping.” Chase looked away. “But the firm… Michael & Cole, we, had a rogue. El Viento’s board is probably pissed. If I say no to him, and Michael & Cole folds, I might be waving a life-boat away from a sinking ship.”
Amelia reached out and touched his arm. “Chase. You’re not responsible for the ship. You’re just a passenger who knows how to tie knots.”
He laughed, a dry sound. “That’s a horrible metaphor.”
“I’m working on it.” Her grip tightened slightly. “But seriously. IF your firm crashes and burns, you’ll find the Wright path, you always do. Besides, you don’t wanna owe him your soul just because he pays the rent. If he wants to buy the city, let him try. But don’t let him use your voice to do it.”
Chase looked at her, really looked at her. She was right, of course. She tended to be.
“He offered to buy the clinic too,” Chase admitted quietly. “Or at least, he asked about it. Said ‘animal wellness’ was an untapped vertical.”
Amelia’s expression hardened instantly. “Absolutely not.”
“I told him to leave you out of it.”
“Good.” She started looking ahead again. “He sees everything as an asset. Even life.”
“You mean ‘human resources’,” Chase corrected.
He idled at the curb outside her building. Amelia turned in the passenger seat, the streetlight filtering through the rain-streaked glass to draw soft gold through her hair.
“I’m glad you said no,” she said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You don’t belong in his world. You’re too…” She searched for the word. “Wright.”
Chase opened his mouth to say something clever, then didn’t. She smiled, in a way that said she noticed the silence and forgave it.
“Coffee again?” she asked.
“Always.”
She squeezed his hand across the gearshift before opening the door. He sat there, watching until her building door closed and the lobby light flickered on.
He didn’t know why the word always felt like a contract.