Page 61 of Kai
The donor situation is a mess.
And Sister Agnes practically cornered me after Bingo tonight with a notebook, three ideas, and enough determination to conquer a small country.
“Saint Patrick's Day Gala,” she'd declared.
As if saying the words out loud made the event real.
Maybe it does.
Because before I left tonight, I'd already texted half a dozen people.
Including Aella Ramirez.
Including Clementine Callahan.
And both women had immediately agreed to help.
Of course, they did.
The Ramirez children attend Our Lady of Grace.
So do the Callahan kids.
Both families are related to the Volkov and Fury families—yes, them.
We’re talking big money and connections.
Heck, I’m pretty sure Sigma International Security is owned by one or both of them.
Anyway, the point is that the school matters to them.
It matters to all of us.
And with families like theirs behind the fundraiser, maybe we actually stand a chance.
Maybe.
The problem is... I'm not thinking about any of that.
Not right now.
Not with Kai sitting six inches away from me.
The truck rumbles softly beneath us as he drives.
One hand is steady on the wheel.
The other is resting casually on the center console.
Streetlights flash through the windshield, painting shadows across his face.
God.
He's handsome.
Unfairly handsome.
Out of my league handsome.
