“Not your eye color, though.”
He growls and grabs my face with his left hand and squishes my cheeks together, and I get a weird flashback of him doing this before, leaning over me with a tequila bottle in his hand.
“Blue.”
“Blue,” I repeat. “Can I see?”
“No,” he snaps. “Now tell me what I want to hear. I don’t have all night.”
“Got a date with a murder victim?” I sneer. His patience is wearing thin, and his grip leaves my mouth to my neck, where he squeezes, and I begin to worry that he’s not going to stop. He doesn’t let me breathe until I’m in a full panic, writhing under him and weakly punching his chest. I suck in a deep breath when he lets me go. “The club!” I gasp. “To get downstairs, you have to be invited in by Valenti, and there are two keys.”
“Who has the keys?”
“I don’t know!”
He’s quiet for a moment. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, angel?” He lets me go and gets off me. He leaves my apartment without another word, and I scramble to grab my phone with my hands trembling. I finish packing as fast as I can while the phone rings.
“Hello, Ms. Young. How can I help you?”
“Gavin! Can you please come pick me up? I know you just left and it’s a long drive but—”
“Of course, I can. Are you okay?”
“Yes. Well, no, but…just, come as soon as you can.”
“I’ll be there in forty-five minutes,” he promises, and then hangs up. Two minutes later, my phone rings again and I answer it.
“Hey,” Christian greets, his voice sounding robotic and muffled. “Are you okay? Gavin just called and said you wanted to be picked up.”
I wipe away the wetness on my cheeks with the sleeve of my sweater. “Can I stay at your house tonight? The Silencer…he’s…I’m scared, and I just don’t feel comfortable here right now.”
He shushes me. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Yes, you can stay at my house. You don’t even have to ask. You can come over just to raid my fridge and do cartwheels by the pool if that’s what you want.”
I let out a sad laugh. “But I don’t know how to do cartwheels.”
I hear him laugh too. “I’m finishing up some stuff before we leave for our trip so I might not beat you back to the mansion. Gavin’s on his way, baby. Just sit tight. I—” He takes a deep breath. “I’ll see you soon.”
The line goes dead. Exactly forty-five minutes after I called Gavin, he knocks on my door and helps me with my luggage, loading it into the trunk and then driving me back to Christian’s mansion.
When we get there, waiting in the foyer is Paolo, with a diner-style glass in his hand.
“Miss Elena, Signore Reeves asked me to give this to you.”
It’s a strawberry milkshake, complete with whipped cream and a cherry, and a thick red and white striped straw.
My mood instantly improves.
CHAPTER 18
THE ANGEL
Soft kisses peppered along my jaw rouse me from sleep. A pleased smile makes its way to my face, Christian’s gentle stubble tickling the tender flesh of my neck.
“I know it’s early, but we need to get up.”
I groan in protest. “Sleepy.”
“I know, baby. You can sleep on the plane. Come on.”
