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, boss. And she’s warm enough under the blanket.’ Another voice, this one deferential. ‘Do you want me to call the doc?’
‘No, not yet.’ The hard voice again. The angry one. Only this time there was a hint of something else in those steely tones.
Worry?
Had she really slept that long?
Surely not. She never, ever slept.
She only ever dozed, kept awake by her tormented thoughts and the ever-present threat of danger.
Drifting in that blissful land between sleep and wakefulness, Jessie realised that she’d slept because she’d felt secure. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she knew she was safe.
Jessie opened her eyes and met his. Her heart emptied itself into that one, single look and she saw the answering flare of awareness in his eyes. There wasn’t a sound in the room, nothing but the hammering of her heart and his sharp, indrawn breath.
And then she remembered.
She remembered why she couldn’t feel this way.
He withdrew from her instantly, the hardening of his mouth the only indication that he’d read her thoughts.
‘There’s a bathroom through that door.’ His tone was neutral and he gestured to an archway. ‘Dressing room through there. Help yourself to anything that fits. When you’ve freshened up, we’ll talk.’
‘Dressing room?’ Jessie sat up, realising that the warmth and comfort had been delivered by an opulent velvet throw in a rich shade of aubergine. Underneath she was still wearing the minuscule gold dress and next to her was the shoebox. With a rush of relief, she curled her fingers over it, pulling it closer.
Silvio watched her for a long, disturbing moment and then a man appeared in the doorway and he glanced towards him. ‘Yes?’
‘Chief Inspector Warren on the phone. Says it’s urgent.’
‘I’ll call him back.’ Silvio turned back to her and Jessie stared at him in disbelief.
‘You were the one who called the police?’
‘That’s what they’re there for, Jess. Dealing with crime. I need to return this call.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘If you need anything, shout. I’ll be outside.’
‘No, wait—we can’t stay here. If they know where I live then they probably followed us here—they’re dangerous…’ Panic fluttered inside her like the wings of a trapped butterfly and his lips curved into a sardonic smile.
‘I’m dangerous too,’ he said softly. ‘Or have you forgotten that?’
She’d forgotten nothing and her eyes lifted to his cold, handsome face and she shivered.
‘You used the police as delaying tactics but that won’t work for long. They want money from me—and they want…’ She couldn’t bring herself to articulate the rest of the sentence and she didn’t need to because they both knew what she was referring to.
His eyes darkened and he turned abruptly and strode to the window, as if he were struggling with something. ‘If you can’t even say the word then perhaps you should consider changing your profession.’
She should have corrected him but she didn’t want to.
Let him think it.
His revulsion and contempt would help create the distance she needed.
‘What is this place, anyway?’ She looked around the room, seeing space and luxury. ‘Is it a hotel or something? Clever. They wouldn’t look for me in a place as fancy as this.’
‘It’s my apartment.’ He answered without turning. ‘And you’re lying in my bed.’
His apartment?
His bed?
