Chapter 6: A Child’s View of Monsters
Lily didn't understand why the men with dark glasses never took them off, even inside. She sat on the thick Persian rug in Vincent’s library, coloring on a fresh sheet of white paper with a brand-new set of markers Vincent had ordered from a boutique downtown.
Vincent sat at his desk, pretending to read shipping manifests, but his eyes kept drifting to the girl. She had Clara’s hazel eyes and his own stubborn, slightly upturned chin.
"Mr. Vincent?" Lily asked suddenly, capping a green marker.
"Just Vincent, Lily," he said, turning his chair toward her.
"Why do those men outside have things under their jackets?"
Vincent hesitated. He had lied to mayors, prosecutors, and federal judges, but he found it impossible to lie to the little girl sitting on his floor.
"Because the world outside is rough," he replied gently. "And their job is to make sure nothing rough ever walks through that door."
Lily nodded thoughtfully, then picked up a purple marker. She carefully drew three neat stars in the upper corner of her drawing.
"Mom says we don't have to play the astronaut game anymore because you have lots of bread," she said, holding up the page.
It was a drawing of three people holding hands in front of a tall glass building. The tallest figure was wearing a cream-colored jacket.
May you like
Vincent took the paper from her small hands. His fingers didn't tremble, but his vision blurred for a fraction of a second. He pinned the drawing to the front of his mahogany desk, directly over a million-dollar contract.
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