I glance away and toy with the ring on my thumb, a subtle reminder of what I need to do—find an excuse to get away from here and into that office.
I just need a little distraction. The servers remove our empty plates and bring out the chocolate dessert that looks so decadent it might be worth killing for. I glare at Ben. This is his fault.
Unfortunately, it’s Sebastian who’s going to take the brunt of my frustration. He lifts his glass of wine, and before I can talk myself out of it, I “accidentally” bump his elbow with the grace of a toddler learning to use a spoon.
The timing is chef’s kiss—his arm jerks, and a glorious wave of red wine arcs straight into my lap. Silverware clatters as I shove back from the table with an exaggerated gasp. Everyone is watching me, and even though I’m the one who orchestrated the mayhem, heat creeps up my neck.
“What was that, Cybil?” Sebastian stares at me, holding out a napkin like it might rescue my dignity. “Why’d you hit me?”
“I was reaching for the uh... knife.” I dab at my lap, but there’s really no point. Ten out of ten for spectacle, zero for subtlety. “I should clean this up,” I say, already pushing back my chair.
“There’s a restroom around the corner,” a server offers.
“Perfect, thank you.” I hand him the wine-soaked napkin and grab my clutch. “If you will excuse me.”
I don’t wait for permission and hurry out of the dining room like I can’t outrun my embarrassment fast enough. Once I round the corner, I pause. Wait. Listen. Conversation in the dining room resumes, forks clink, and I’m mad all over again about missing out on that dessert.
There’s laughter—probably at my expense. Good. Let them. If they’re too busy enjoying my clumsiness, that means I can do what I need to do.
I walk past the restroom and head straight for the office. One quick look over my shoulder and I try the doorknob. Unlocked.
I slip inside. The office is quiet and dark, save for moonlight slipping through the French doors. It’s almost pretty—if I weren’t about to commit corporate espionage in a merlot-soaked dress.
At the desk, I check the drawer. Still locked. I remove the key pick set from my clutch. A chill skitters over my skin as Ramirez’s voice echoes in my head.“Accidents happen here, yes?”
I can do this. Iwilldo this. My fingers move to my thumb out of habit and freeze. The ring’s gone. My heart seizes until I remember I moved it after my little veggie-cart crashing incident. Right thumb to left thumb. I slide it back where it belongs. It’s still loose, but the weight of it on my right thumb steadies me. I can do this.
And no one needs to wake up with a horse head in their bed—not even Marcello. Hopefully.
With quickness, I pop the lock on the drawer and quietly slide it open. There it is. The folder. I pull out my phone and flip it open, spreading the manufacturing plans across the desk. Everything’s in Italian except for a few diagrams that might as well be IKEA instructions.
I start snapping photos. One page. Two. I’m halfway through when—
Footsteps. Heavy ones. Someone’s coming.
My gaze flicks down to the papers on the desk and blood rushes tomy ears. If I’m caught in here, there’s no excuse Ramirez will buy that doesn’t end with me in a pair of cement boots at the bottom of the Lagoverde lake.Does Prada make a cement boot for their mobster clients?
I freeze, heart racing as a shadow blocks the light under the door. Someone’s coming in.
Nope. Nope, nope, nope—
I scoop up the papers, shove them into the folder, and close the drawer—except I don’t, because I catch my thumb in it. Pain rockets up my hand. Tears spring to my eyes—pain? fear? Probably both—but I bite down on a scream.
I stumble toward the French doors that open onto a private veranda overlooking the manicured lawn and sparkling pool—one story up and absolutely not designed for emergency escapes. I wrench open the door, slip outside, and reach back to close it when—
Clink.
No.
My ring. My dad’s ring. It slides off my thumb, hits the floor, and disappears into the dark. I drop to my knees, but it’s useless. I can’t see a thing, and I don’t have time.
The office door creaks open.
I don’t have a choice.
My heart shatters as I leave the ring behind.
Chapter 18
