The line repeats inside my head like a mantra. Whenever I feel myself drifting, losing focus, I pull myself back to it.
“We’re going to my old home.”
I’m betting on the fact that Rafe hasn’t touched the penthouse yet. It’s in my name, and he’s my beneficiary in case of death.
Still, I doubt figuring out what to do with my penthouse was high on his list of priorities. It’s only been six months since I’ve left.
If I’m wrong, I’ll have to take Blake to a hotel, but the penthouse is more secure—impenetrable to anyone whose biometrics have not been programmed into the security system.
The Ferraros won’t be able to get in unless they decide to blow up my front door.
The only complication is that the concierge downstairs will call Rafe as soon as we step into the elevator.
But that’s fine. I’ll only be a minute to drop Blake off before I go to see him.
Reporting for duty.
When Blake and I step into the main entrance, we catch the concierge, Alec, mid-conversation with another resident. “Yes, Mr. Benoit. I’ll bring the package to you as soon as it arrives.”
The older man nods and shuffles toward the elevators, carefully navigating with a white cane, and Alec turns his attention to us.
His eyes nearly bulge out of his head. “Mr. De Luca! You’re…” He wrings his hands, unsure of how to finish that sentence.
“Hey, Alec. I know. I’ll explain later.”
His eyes flick toward Blake. He hesitates for a moment before asking, “Are you all right, miss?”
I don’t need to look at her to know what he sees. Her face is a patchwork of browns and purples. She hasn’t complained of the pain, but I know she’s hurting. As much as she can’t look at me, I can barely look at her. As soon as I talk to Rafe, I’ll ask him to send Doc. She’s a walking, breathing reminder of how fucking badly I failed.
But I won’t fail her again. I’ll do whatever it takes to get Rafe to agree to protect her from the Iron Raptors and from the Ferraros, if it comes to that.
Blake shifts on her feet. “I’m fine, thank you.”
I glance down at her. I half expected her to tell Alec I’m holding her hostage, but maybe she’s finally accepted that trying to run away won’t do her any good.
My hand tightens around her arm. “Alec, buzz us upstairs.”
He turns paler when he notices the movement. “Of course, sir.” He looks uncomfortable, but he knows better than to argue with me. I can guess what conclusions he’s jumping to inside his head. I hate that he probably thinks I’m the one who hurt Blake, but I also can’t blame him.
At the end of the day, I’m the one responsible for this whole fucking mess.
“And Alec?” His gaze jumps from Blake back up to my face. “Let’s keep this between us for now. I’m just going to drop her off before going straight to Don Messero.” I reach into my jacket and hand him five crisp hundred-dollar bills.
He takes them uneasily. “I can give you thirty minutes, sir. After that, I’ll be in trouble.”
“Understood.”
In the elevator, Blake huddles in the corner while we ride all the way up to the top floor.
She waits for me to step out first, her footsteps nearly silent as she trails behind me through the foyer that leads to my front door.
I press my fingertips against the sensor and wait for the security system to disengage.
When the front door swings open, Blake sucks in a breath.
I walk straight through the circular foyer and lead her into the living area.
Her gaze travels over the Italian-made sofas, the marble coffee table I got from a legendary artisan from Florence, the wall of built-in bookshelves that I never got the chance to fill, and finally to the open-concept kitchen at the back.
