Chapter 15: Rule Three

The lobby of the Park Avenue building was full of cameras.

Somebody had told them the meeting would end at ten.

Somebody had told them where to stand.

Marcello and I came out of the elevator side by side, one foot apart.

The doors behind us were already closing on Chiara's smile.

"Mrs. Ferraro! Mrs. Ferraro, over here!"

"Naomi, did you take the boy out of the country without permission?"

"Mr. Ferraro, are you still the chairman?"

The crowd moved in.

Two microphones hit my shoulder.

A flash went off so close I saw spots.

I stopped, and the whole mass of people closed around me.

I could not see the doors. I could not see Marcello.

Then a hand pressed flat against the small of my back.

It was big, and warm, and it pushed me forward with a steady, unhurried weight.

"Walk," Marcello said, low, at my ear. "I have you."

I walked.

The hand stayed where it was, through the crowd, past a man shouting my name.

Eight years of marriage.

He had never put a hand on my back in public once.

I felt each of his fingers through the wool.

I felt his thumb settle against my spine, and my skin knew exactly what it was.

My mouth opened.

"Rule three, counselor," I said.

The hand stopped.

I felt him start to take it away.

"Don't," I said.

"Naomi, you said..."

"I said not in a hallway to move me out of the way. This is a mob. Keep walking."

"Understood."

He did not take the hand away.

Neither of us said anything else until the revolving door.

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