“I figured you might have a better touch with …” he could not stop the withering look that cast up and down her ill-gotten men’s clothing, “… feminine problems.”

He grimaced, but looked at her back with a touch of envy. That was one of his favorite suits – and she had a better ass in it! Auch, unacceptable.

His eyes lifted up the staircase, glancing to the room beside him that he had come from where Elijah and the [questionable] doctor still lurked. He squinted at the Italian, words echoing off wood and marble (he had hated the lack of privacy this place afforded ever since Penina had crashed in). Caught bits and pieces – something about God, something about ridiculous and the ledgers. Whatever she was spouting about, it did not sound like she had finally come around to [his] reason.

Quietly, Zechariah picked up the keys off the front door key ring, and went to lock his office from the outside …