Page 33 of One Filthy Kiss

7

MEGAN

It feelsas if we have always been here in Gio’s apartment.

A week ago, if someone had told me that I’d be living in a penthouse, God only knows how many feet above a Manhattan sidewalk, I’d have told them that they were deluded. And now, here I am, making waffles for Amber’s breakfast in a kitchen that belongs in a glossy home magazine, and watching the fish swimming around inside a cylindrical aquarium that I have no idea how to clean.

Gio was gone when I woke up this morning on the blankets piled in front of the living room windows, the imprint of his lips still on my shoulder. He didn’t tell me what business he has in Sicily, and I didn’t press for information. I suspect that there’s much I don’t know about him; he’ll tell me in his own sweet time.

Or maybe he won’t.

But I refuse to give into the thoughts that have plagued me for the past five years. I believe Gio when he says that Amber’sfather won’t find us here. I only have to press a button, and Ric will appear as if by magic to make sure that we’re alright.

“Where are we going today?” Amber asks when I slide her breakfast across the counter towards her.

She looks tiny sitting behind the breakfast island on a tall stool that was obviously designed with demi-gods and Amazonian warriors in mind. My feet don’t even touch the floor when I sit on them.

“I thought we’d stay here today. We could go swimming?”

“Is Gio coming?” The innocent question tugs at my heartstrings.

“No, Gio has gone away for a couple of days. But he’ll be back,” I quickly add, as much for my benefit as hers.

Tell the universe what you want, and it will listen. Right?

“Can we go back to the zoo?”

They say that children are resilient, and Amber is proof of that. Our flight to LA was the first time she’d set foot inside an airplane, and now she has crossed the United States on a private jet and is munching on waffles and bananas in a Manhattan penthouse, as if it is the most natural thing in the world.

“We don’t have to go out every day.”

I’m worried that, when we don’t go back to London in a couple of days, she’ll start to think that this is real life. No school. No set bedtime. Her own private rooftop pool.

“We can ask someone to tell us the way. Ric will take us.” She barely glances up from her half-eaten waffles. The sunshine and sightseeing have given her an insatiableappetite.

“It isn’t that, Amber.”

She wrinkles her nose, and I notice a few freckles on her face. “What is it then? We’re on vacation. You promised we would go out every day.”

She’s right; I did.

“Maybe I’ll ask Ric then.”

“Yay!” She doesn’t miss a beat. She climbs off the stool and presses a small red button underneath the counter.

Within moments, the elevator door slides open, and Ric bounds in, one hand on a holster that I never noticed before strapped to his waist.

Is he armed?

The thought makes my breath stick inside my chest. How have I been so blind? How else did I think that Gio’s bodyguards would protect him? With a few harsh words and a promise to call the cops?

Jeez, I’ve been so busy wondering how I ended up in the arms of the most perfect man on earth, that I failed to see what’s right in front of me. Ric, the other bodyguards who I wouldn’t even recognize if they walked straight into me, maybe even Gio … they’re dangerous people. They became bodyguards for a reason—they’ll kill to protect someone.

I will protect you and Amber with my life, Meggie.

Would Gio kill for us? Is that what he really meant?

“Everything okay?” Ric’s eyes narrow and finally settle on the waffles on the counter.