I looked at Dima. “Where is Dream Lake?”
“You get there by turning left on Platinum Row.”
“So, the Killer Crows and you lived on the same road?”
“We did.” He gazed at me with intrigue. “Why do you know that the Killer Crows live near Dream Lake?”
“I’ve been researching the West’s history and stumbled onto the horrific details about the lake.”
“You’re thinking about reporting on it?”
I studied him.
“I’m only asking.”
“Yes. I think more people should know about Dream Lake and how a whole prominent black town was flooded for no reason.”
“Good. The Killer Crows would like that. Even with the power of the Diamond Syndicate, their history and voices have still been silenced.”
“You mean that?”
“I do. I can’t wait to read it.”
“Good. Jonathan thought I should leave the whole topic alone.”
“I bet he did. Those atrocities paint Paradise in a bad light. It reveals the racist history.”
“Which is not the best thing for an election year.”
Dima smiled.
I looked out the window. The beach showed on my left. On my right, mansions and luxury towers lined Platinum Row.
And then we stopped at the tallest condominium tower I’d seen in Paradise. We entered a huge garage and drove up the winding road, rising higher and higher within the building. Once we made it to the sixth floor, a steel door stood before us.
The chauffer let down his window and slid a platinum digital card by a red light. The steel door lifted.
We drove through and entered a big private garage.
I took in the cars. “Are these all yours or are you sharing the garage with another tenant?”
He winked. “I don’t share.”
I laughed.
The car stopped near an elevator.
Dima kissed my cheek, moved his arm, and opened the door. “I can’t wait to be inside of you.”
I licked my lips and stepped out.
I couldn’t help but study all of his cars, trying to assess him the way he did me with my place. I crossed my arms over my chest and strolled toward the cars. “Hmmm.”
The car drove off.
With a wicked grin, Dima watched me. “What do you think you’re doing?”
My heels clicked in on the garage’s black floor. “I’m analyzing you.”
“This should be interesting.” He followed me.
“Perhaps, I can tell you how many kids you want from the way you park your cars.”
“I don’t waste my time parking a car. That’s what chauffeurs are for.”
“Wow.”
“And I already told you how many kids I want.”
“Five.”
“Correct. Although after tasting your pussy, I wouldn’t mind going up to six.”
“I’m not even going to address that.” I chuckled and spotted a shiny 1970’s Ford Thunderbird, painted in bright yellow. “You’re a man of nostalgia. You like history.”
“I do.”
I noted that the other vehicles were in various shades of yellow. There was a lemon Lamborghini, mustard Mustang, honey Hummer, and gold Bugatti. “While you may not wear the North’s color of yellow on your body, you do want other people to know, when you drive by.”
“It’s important.”
The garage steel door rose. Two yellow jeeps drove in with several of his men. They stopped in front of the elevator and left the vehicles.
I walked over to the canary yellow Dodge Firearrow and whistled. “What’s the year for this—1938?”
“You’re correct. I’m impressed.” He stepped to my side. “You know cars?”
“A little. My father was always campaigning for others or traveling on business. When he came home, he spent his time in his massive garage, staring at all of his cars. I would sneak down, hide behind a car, and watch him.” I walked off to the next row of cars.
He stayed by the Firearrow. “Why did you hide?”
“My father was never a kid-friendly guy. He recognized that kids were necessary to continue the Walsh family line, but he didn’t see us as individuals that he wanted to connect with.”
Dima walked over to me. “So, you hid in his garage to find some sort of connection with him?”
“Yeah. I did it about five times before he called me out to help him polish his ‘Duesy.’”
Excitement covered Dima’s face. “He had a 1935 Duesenberg?”
I nodded.
“I like your father already.”
“You would. You both are bossy.” I walked off to where his men stood.
He got to my side. “You said you hid in the garage five times, before he told you to come out.”
“Yeah.”
“He knew you were hiding in the garage the other four times?”
“I believe so.”
“Perhaps, it’s not that he didn’t want to build a connection with you. Maybe, he just didn’t know how.” Dima took my hand. “Communicating with others is not always so simple.”
“I’m surprised you would say that with your position.”
“Why?”
“Being a leader requires good social skills.”
“Which is why the Diamond Syndicate is a mess right now. Romeo handled the social part.”
His men separated to let us walk through.
We stopped at the elevator.
“Dima, you can’t blame yourself for the current state of things. That’s Leo’s fault.”