Page 5 of Shark’s Edge

“Of continuing to serve the biggest client we have right now?”

She re-crossed her arms. “And because of that, you’re automatically taking his side?”

“Whoa.” I raised both hands. “How are there suddenly sides?”

“You don’t realize the media is already creating them?”

“That woman jumped on her own. He wasn’t up on that bridge with her.”

While she openly fumed about that, I grabbed the chance to neutralize my own features. My argument to retain Shark Enterprises as a customer made a ton of sense, but no way could I reveal it was based on anything except business. No way could Rio—or anyone else—discern what a mess Sebastian Shark made of my nerves, my senses, my sex drive.

“Look, I know the guy seems like a real douche sometimes. But we don’t have to be in bed with him for—”

Rio cut in with a cute snort. “Luckily, we don’t have to be in bed with him at all.”

With an eye roll, I said, “You know what I’m talking about. The checks I’m collecting from Shark Enterprises are the surplus revenue we need to make headway on the dream.”

I didn’t elaborate past that because I knew Rio got it. My whole family did. Ever since the day my mom was suddenly supine on the kitchen floor, breathing her last breaths due to a massive coronary, making me promise I’d never give up on our vision. Ever since that morning, when I swore to her I’d one day own and operate a full restaurant and not a piddly food-delivery service.

Rio’s huff saved me from diving down that heartache hole. “I get that. But you can get someone else as big as him, Abs. There are hundreds of huge corporations downtown.”

“Yeah? And tell me how many of them are planning to break ground on a skyscraper that’ll be a hundred stories high? That’ll have both professional occupants and personal residents? That’ll have hundreds, maybe thousands of people not just wanting lunch at noon but something easy to cook up for dinner that night? That’ll be one of the largest exclusive catering contracts to ever be landed in the city?”

She hauled out a headstrong pout. “I hate it when you’re right.”

I preened—but just a little—and said nothing else. We were wasting time, and it was going to be a scorcher of a day. So instead, I refocused on loading the sandwiches and entrées for the day’s runs.

Our new silence meant we could hear Cindy again. “LAPD has stated they’ll be reaching out to Mr. Shark today, hoping he’ll be able to provide more clues about Miss Mansfield’s actions. But at this time, no foul play is suspected, and Mr. Shark is not under criminal investigation.”

“Not a suspect.” Rio harrumphed. “Too bad shattering a woman’s heart isn’t a criminal offense.”

I had no idea whether to laugh, scream, or both. “The prison system would have an even bigger overcrowding problem then, wouldn’t it?” I walked toward the delivery van. “Text if you have any issues with the pinwheels.”

“Only if you promise to text back with pics of the circus at Shark’s office.”

I halted in my tracks. “Huh?”

She stared back, lips quirking, before drawling, “The . . . media circus?”

“Pffft.” I shook my head. “Not going to happen.”

Her grin grew into a full giggle. “How do you call yourself an Angelino?”

I shot her a narrowed glare. “There’s not going to be a circus, Rio.”

“I predict at least a dozen rings, honey.” She brightened and raised a finger in the air. “Hey, if you see TMZ, can you snag a selfie with their cute ginger reporter for me?”

“Oh my God.”

“No, just little ol’ me.” She shrugged and gave me a playful wink. “The one you love with the passion of a thousand suns.”

I spread my arms heavenward and turned to leave as Rio pumped a victory fist into the air.

“Pesto pinwheels!” I yelled over my shoulder.

“Cute ginger!”

“I’m doomed,” I muttered for my ears alone while climbing into the driver’s seat.