So I lean in and drop my voice. “Because it was reckless.”
That hits her. Her shoulders snap back like I’ve struck a nerve—and I think I have. For a split second, something flickers across her face. Raw. Wounded. It guts me more than I expect and I immediately regret my words.
“Cybil...” The truth is sitting on the edge of my tongue, but I bite it back. If I say too much, I risk everything—including her safety. I can’t do that. “You’re smart. Too smart to be working for someone like Edmond.”
Her fingers rub the bare spot on her thumb. Then she shifts—just slightly. A barely there shake of her head, like she doesn’t believe me. I want to make her believe, but then I catch her eyes drifting toward the counter.
A man stands there now—light blue linen shirt, clean haircut, scanning the space like a guy who’s trained to notice exits. Posture’s wrong for a tourist. All awareness, no chill.
Every instinct in my body buzzes.
My mind flashes back to yesterday—to the man watching me in the piazza. The one I caught watching Cybil later. I couldn’t get a good look at him then, so I can’t tell if this is the same guy.
Rook said they didn’t have anyone tailing me. Maybe it was the truth. Maybe it wasn’t. After last night’s conversation, I’d be an idiot to think I’ve mitigated his suspicions. Which means this guy might not be here to watch me. He might be watching Cybil.
The barista behind the counter calls out an order. Cybil stands. So do I.
But she holds up a hand, stopping me. Her cheeks are flushed now, pink and guarded. “May I have my ring back, please?”
I hesitate—but only for a second. Then I press it into her palm.
Her fingers close around it tightly. Like she needs to feel the weightof it. Like it’s more than a ring. She doesn’t say anything else. Just steps past me and picks up her order without a glance back.
I watch her go, shoulder brushing mine as she passes, and it takes everything I’ve got not to follow her out right then.
Five seconds later, the man at the counter leaves.
I wait two more, then follow.
Chapter 22
Cybil
Lagoverde, Italy
Saturday morning
This is a nightmare. No, really. Hundreds—maybe thousands—of people are swarming the streets in elaborate masks. It’s a Tim Burton movie come to life. Carved smiles, vacant eye holes, all popping up around corners like some kind of twisted Renaissance-themed jump scare.
I look over my shoulder and groan. My real problem isn’t the masked crowd surrounding me but the tall man with dark, dangerously tousled hair and a smile that could melt gelato faster than the Italian sun. He just ruined the exchange with the courier, and now he’s following me.Again.
Ben and his sharp eyes, his quiet interrogation, the way he tilts his head just so—like he can still see through me after all these years. He questioned why I was in the office, why I wasn’t chasing after my ring, and then—then—he hit me with that offhand remark about working for Earl Edmond.
“You’re too smart to be working for someone like Earl Edmond.”
It wasn’t just a compliment. It was aloadedone. And for a split second, I wanted to believe that Ben had changed, that maybe he was finally seeing me as more than the girl I was all those summers ago.
But like clockwork, he ruined it.
“Finding you out on that ledge was reckless.”
The cold prickle I felt when that word left his mouth runs down my spine again. I know exactly what it means and I’m right back there. Young, naïve, waiting under the oak tree, holding my breath, heart too full of something hopeful—until I heard his voice.
“Come on, Rex. She’s a mess. Reckless.”
I exhale sharply, shoving aside the sting of his words. Maybe he’s right—maybe I am reckless. But not in the way he thinks. Letting myself believe he’s changed, that I can afford to feel anything for him,that’sreckless. And I don’t have time for it.
I have a job to do.
