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I close and lock up the case, before returning the bracelet to Laura’s jewelry tray, and hustle back out of the room.

Ten-to nine.

The elevator seems to take forever, and when it opens on Rand, the urge to throw up sends bile shooting up my throat.

“Miss Quinn! Are you on your way down?”

“I’m, um … I forgot to grab a coffee.”

“Ah, excellent. I’m off to grab some breakfast. I’ll accompany you to the kitchen.”

“I … okay.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

The elevator reaches the bottom floor, where a number of people are bustling around. Construction workers, or something, judging by the tool belts strapped at their waists and one of the men carrying a ladder.

“What’s going on?” I ask, trying to distract myself from the guilt.

“Renovations for the atrium. The master is planning a masquerade ball, three weeks from today. There’s quite a bit of work that needs done before then.”

“Masquerade?”

“Yes. Some very important guests will be here.”

We wait for one of the workers to pass, a younger guy, maybe in his twenties, who winks and smiles as he passes.

Gaze trailing after him, Rand frowns. “I trust you’ll keep your distance from these men. I haven’t a clue what their background is.” He leans in, raising the hair on my skin with his proximity. “We’ve installed extra cameras, just in case.”

My blood turns cold. “Cameras?”

I didn’t even think of cameras. Why would I? It’s not like they have security here to monitor them.

“Yes. Master Griffin had them installed quite a few years ago. We’ve expanded the coverage to most of the common rooms.”

Common room? What the hell constitutes common? A sitting room? I swallow hard, my throat suddenly parched, lips dry. “Hey, I, um …. I need to stop at my room. I’m still not feeling the greatest.”

“Ah, yes, of course. Might I suggest some Pepto-Bismol? You’ll find some in the cupboard of your bathroom.”

“Thanks. I’ll catch up with you later, Rand.” On the verge of hyperventilating, I race down the hallway, practically sliding to a stop in front of my room.

“Isa?”

At the sound of my name, I jump back, and the doll falls to the floor. On impact, one of the hands cracks off.

Oh, no. Oh, my God.

My gaze snaps to Giulia, who frowns down at it before lifting eyes cold with suspicion back to me. “It’s … it’s not what you think.” Every muscle in my body is in a frenzy as I kneel down and gather up the doll with its broken hand.

“What is this, Isa?”

Glancing around, I open the door and usher her inside.

She shakes her head, shrugging my hand away. “I don’t want any part of this.”

“Please, let me explain.”

With hesitation, she steps inside the room, looking over her shoulder as she comes to a stop a few paces in.