The boy could’ve had the name of Salvatore or Saviano.

The gardener, Giovani, is a man in his late eighties and doesn’t remember well.

The information might as well have been fucking useless to me. I know for a fact that Salvatore or Saviano or whatever the fuck his name is, has a mother. She could be dead or alive or hidden by Paolo. However, if he knew where the mother is, he should’ve found his son, too.

Now, I’m back to point zero. The gardener agreed to search for those who worked with him before, the ones who don’t have much of a record with the Costa because they haven’t stayed there long enough to warrant a file.

Most of them are dead, but some are still alive.

With nothing better to do, I go back to my current favorite hobby. Fine, not a hobby, an obsession.

I take a drag of my cigarette as I follow my little Petal. It’s about ten and she opted to walk halfway to the hospital after her car bailed on her.

She really needs to have that car checked, or better yet, throw it the fuck away.

Her steps are fast and fluid, almost as if she’s in a job. Her coat covers her frame, hiding the curves I’ve seen but wasn’t able to feast on.

I keep a good distance, walking on the other side of the street. She wouldn’t have noticed me even if I was walking right behind her. My little Petal is one of those who shut away the outside world when in the middle of chaos, and only focuses on getting where she needs to go.

The police would notice me, though. There’s a slim chance they’re still watching her for what happened with the doctor, and I’m not ready to take that chance.

As she takes the turn to the hospital, I stop. She stops, too, and for a second, I think she sensed me all along and will now turn around and confront me.

I don’t move, waiting for the moment she spins around. If she does, I’ll erase my plans and do this her way.

I’ll show her my true nature, bend her over her balcony and fuck this obsession out of her.

She doesn’t turn around, though.

My little Petal crouches at the corner. I lean sideways to see what she’s doing.

A small black cat sits in the corner and she stares at him with starry-wide eyes, as if she’s seen a treasure. Her smile is bright and soft, reaching her eyes, slightly closing them.

It’s anything but fake.

It’s utter happiness.

Fuck me.

How can someone look at cats like that?

My little Petal reaches into her bag and retrieves a tuna can then offers it to the kitten. Most women keep makeup in their bags, she keeps fucking cat food.

Go figure.

She plays with the kitten for a whole minute, and the little animal appears vulnerable, casting black magic on her to take him.

It’s working, too. Petal continues staring between her watch and the cat, biting her lower lip.

She wants the cat, but she must think she can’t have more.

With one last caress, she stands up and walks ahead, pulling out her phone. She’ll probably call some animal association, she has their cards on her counter, like a good old cat lady.

I turn around and go into Starbucks. I order an espresso and kids’ snack, ignoring the cashier’s attempts to flirt with me as I settle on the table near the door.

It should happen in three seconds, two, one…

The entrance nearly rattles from its hinges as two kids fly inside in all their energy.

A woman follows, wearing scrubs and carrying a wailing baby in her arms.

“Stop that, Oliver,” she yells at her son who’s pulling on his younger sister’s pigtails.

Her eyes are bloodshot, as if she didn’t sleep the previous night, most likely because of the toddler whose mouth she’s shoving a baby bottle into.

“Oliver!” she yells when the kid tries to kick his sister to the ground. “Can’t I order in peace?” Her voice lowers. “For fuck’s sake.”

With their mother turned away, I wave my snack in front of them.

The kid trots in my direction first and the sister follows as their mother gets engrossed in ordering her drink.

“You want this?” I ask Oliver.

He nods once.

“If I give it to you, will you share with your sister?”

He hesitates but then nods again.

“Now ask your mom for permission.”

“Mommy!!” he screams. “Can I have it please, please?”

Dinah finally turns in our direction and notices that her kids aren’t silent because they listened to her.

She smiles at me and I smile back. This isn’t the first time I do this for her kids. It’s precisely the third. We reached a point where she sighs in relief whenever she sees me.

“Oh, my God.” She balances the now quiet toddler on her hip and takes the coffee with her other hand. “You’re a lifesaver, I don’t know how to thank you.”

“They’re adorable kids.” They’re not, but she doesn’t need to know that.

I push the plate in front of them. Oliver and his sister get busy eating as Dinah gulps a mouthful of her latte before she sighs again. She’s one of those who feel out of her element if she doesn’t have caffeine in her system.

“I swear I made the mistake of my life by getting married at my freshman year,” she grumbles while drinking. “It’s stupid, seriously don’t do it.”

I smile, appearing every bit the gentleman she believes I am. “I think it’s too late for that. I’ll be lucky to get married at all now.”

Her slurping stops as she watches me intently. Too intently, like she’s seeing me for the first time. She gives me a onceover and slightly narrows her eyes in calculation.

Bingo.

She’s seeing me from a different perspective.

“Why? How old are you?”

“Thirty-three.” I take a sip of my coffee appearing nonchalant. “I always seem to miss the right one. I don’t give up, though.”

She pauses. “Jasper, right? What did you say you work as again?”

I never mentioned my work, and she well knows that, but she’s using her woman skills to gauge what she needs to know.

“HR in C Electronics.” I give her my card.

C Electronics is one of Lucio’s few legitimate businesses, small but lucrative. And technically, I’m the head of HR for the Costa organization.

I clean the unwanted humans.

Dinah tries to hide she’s impressed as she studies my card, and fails. She’s more than impressed, she already has a plot.

She balances her toddler again, eyes fleeting over her other two children before she meets mine again. “This might seem too sudden, but I actually have an amazing friend who I think would be a great fit for you.”

Bingo again.

I feign disinterest. “No, thanks. I don’t have good experiences with arranged meetings.”

The best way to negotiate is to pretend you don’t care for what the other party offers.

She appears flustered. “Of course. I understand. But I promise it’s different this time.” She leans in to whisper. “She doesn’t like arranged meetings either. You already have something in common.”

Hmm. Interesting.

I raise an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Dinah’s eyes light up as she pushes her kids aside, ignoring their protests and retrieves her phone. She shows me a picture of my little Petal carrying a baby, the toddler in Dinah’s arms, I suppose, and smiling softly at the camera.