“Thank you,” I say. “I tripped.”
His eyes move over my face slowly. There’s something assessing about his gaze. Before I can react, I feel light fingers on the strands of my hair. I usually wear my hair back, sleek, but tonight, for a different look, I let it down. A gasp tears out of me when he lightly tugs on the strand, causing my neck to arch.
Heat creeps into my cheeks.
From the corner of my eye, I notice the other men quietly drifting away, giving Alessandro privacy without being told. My breath stutters and I pull out of his grasp. His arm drops, letting me go.
Before I can speak, he does, “You don’t look comfortable.”
I glance around dramatically at the surrounding chaos.
“It’s hard to be,” I quip, with all the confidence I don’t feel. “I prefer my fun a bit more private.”
Something sparkles in his eyes. I think it’s amusement, but it’s gone before I can make sense of it.
He cocks his head at me. “You’ve never been to this house before.”
It wasn’t a question. My pulse flickers.
“How can you tell?” I ask playfully, keeping the tension out of my voice.
He watches me silently for another long moment. “Come,” he says finally. “I’ll show you around.”
I find myself nodding. Anything to get new information. And not to be here alone. I’m that desperate.
“That sounds exactly like the beginning of a murder documentary,” I chuckle.
“If I planned to kill you,bella, I wouldn’t start with a tour.”
He gives me his back as he strides away, expecting me to follow. Of course, I do.
The atmosphere changes the farther we go. The foyer had felt performative, but here, deeper inside, it feels much more intimate. It doesn’t escape my notice that he’d said we were going on a tour of the house, but so far, we’ve just been walking past rooms. He clearly has a destination in mind.
“Why are you showing me around?” I ask. “Is this your house or something?”
“Or something.”
“I see. What kind of business requires masks and public indecency?”
“Private business.”
What’s with him and his annoying two-word answers?
And how do I bring up the Kuznetsovs without risking myself?
Alessandro stops before a door and pushes it open. A breath whooshes out of me as I come upon the most shocking scene of the night yet. Two men. Two women. The women have cocks. While the men have pussies.
My mouth hangs open and I take one step back. Alessandro pauses in the doorway, then shuts the door.
“You blush easily.”
Normally, I’d have a comeback ready, but not right now. I’m still a little thrown by what I just saw. Alessandro approaches the next door. This time when we enter, it’s empty. It’s a bedroom of sorts, and just as I turn to ask what we’re doing here, he locks the door, and slips the key into his breast-pocket.
Suddenly the room feels smaller. My panic rises as the claustrophobia takes over. My gaze strays to the window, and when I find it open, the fresh night air moving the curtains slightly, the tightness in my chest loosens.
Alessandro still stands near the door, watching me. I’ve heard so many stories about him. Many say he’s cruel, violent, ruthless. But no one mentioned his intensity.
“What am I doing here?” I ask carefully, proud that my voice sounds steadier than I feel.
