Oscar fixes pieces of his ruffled hair. “If Moretti really fucked his client, there’d be consequences.” My pulse solidifies like cement in my veins. I’m not looking at them. Farrow blows a bubble and pops it in his mouth. “Yeah, we’d have to get Donnelly to tattoo hypocrite on his ass.” If that’s what it took to make things right with him, I’d fucking do it.
