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I frown as I stare at the large silver key. “What do I need a safety deposit box for?”
“Just in case.” He kisses me quickly.
“In case of what?”
“My death.”
“What?”
“I’ve made arrangements for you in the event of my death. If I die, I will have been murdered, and you will be their next target.”
My face falls.
What the actual fuck?
“In the safety deposit box, you have five passports of different nationalities, and instructions on how to access money that I’ve secured for you in offshore accounts.”
I begin to hear my pulse in my ears. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Olivia. Listen to me. Lorenzo has all the instructions, but in the event that he goes with me, I need to tell you this. If I die, you get yourself to that deposit box without being followed, and you get out of Italy immediately. Tell nobody—and I mean absolutely nobody—where you are.”
I stare at him, completely lost for words.
His face softens with empathy, and he cups my cheeks. “Bella, I have to be prepared, that’s all. Don’t worry.”
“Do you think you’re going to die?” I whisper. What the hell is going on here?
“No,” he replies as he takes me into his arms. “But what kind of man would I be if I didn’t have arrangements in place for you?”
“A normal one.”
He smiles broadly, and then goes to his wardrobe. “I am not a normal man, Olivia, and we have had this conversation too many times this week.” He glances in my wardrobe and looks at all the shopping bags that I haven’t even opened yet that are sitting on the floor in there. “When are you going to look at the things I bought you?”
My heart drops. To be honest, I don’t want to. I’ve been putting it off. I can’t even begin to fathom the money he spent on me.
“I haven’t had time. I’ll do it tomorrow night.” I shrug, disappointed in myself that I’m coming across ungrateful. “Thank you again. I’ll wear one of the dresses tonight.”
He raises a brow, clearly unimpressed.
I stare at him, rattled that he has just given me his death plan as casually as taking out the trash. And yet he stands here, annoyed that I haven’t looked at the fruits of his shopping trip.
Priorities.
He glances at his watch. “I have to go.”
“Who’s taking you to work?” I ask, suddenly panicked that something may happen.
“Lorenzo is here. My normal crew.”
“Oh.” My eyes hold his. “Please… be careful.”
“I will.” He kisses me softly. “Ti amo.” He pulls me in for a hug, and then turns and walks out of the room. I hear him walk down the stairs, and then out of the front door.
It closes with a sharp click as he turns the deadlock.
The room is silent. Heavy.
I walk into my wardrobe and stare at all the expensive things in bags, and I feel sick to my stomach.
