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All bedrooms are guest rooms, and they hold nothing of personal value. I return to his bedroom an hour later after I’ve searched all the rooms in the downstairs portion of the home. His office and one bedroom up here remain locked, and I’m not sure why.
I have a niggling feeling that they both have contents that will be instrumental in me learning the identity of my family’s murderers. Slipping back into the bedroom, I lay beside him, tracing the lines of his face. He doesn’t budge but continues releasing soft snores.
I press my hand against his chest. “Ales?” I whisper.
He doesn’t move as I kiss his lips and slide my hands down his thighs, gripping his semi-erect shaft.
“Ales,” I mutter again, stroking him.
Nothing. I free my hand and slide out of bed once more, satisfied that he’s knocked out. I grab my phone and continue my search.
It takes another ten minutes before I find a set of keys that aren’t the ones he carries on him.
I head to the other wing of the house upstairs and slide the key into the locked bedroom. It doesn’t work, so I try another one. I hold my breath until I hear the satisfying click of the locking mechanism opening.
Pushing the door open, I’m faced with a second door. I try the handle, although I don’t expect it to open.
There’s a security keypad beside the door.
“Damn!” I mutter and then recall the number on the back of the key.
I think I hear a noise. My heart is racing, and I remain in the hallway for several seconds, listening. Satisfied that it is just my imagination, I return to the bedroom and check on Alessandro again.
He’s still sleeping and still not responding to my sensual touch.
I creep back out of the room and head downstairs with the keys balled in my hand to keep them from making a sound. The house is silent, and I’m thankful he gave his entire staff the night off.
I make my way to the office and start sliding keys in. This is the only room Alessandro did not show me when giving me the tour of his home. He asked that I not bother this room and respect his privacy about it.
The first key doesn’t work, so I remove it and find another key. I get it right on the second try.
Sliding the flashlight app on my phone into the “on” position, I look around the room. The room is round and has an incredible dome ceiling with recessed lighting. Wood paneling throughout the office and large dark furniture give the space a masculine appeal.
A cherrywood desk with a large leather chair behind it centers the room. Behind the desk and chair, windows make a semi-circle in the wall. Heavy chocolate drapes are drawn to keep the night at bay.
Open shelves at the top of the walls sport various cultural artifacts. Underneath each open shelf is a marble counter with locked cabinets lining the wall. I know I’ve hit the jackpot when I see each cabinet has a lock. I’m sure he has many secrets here, and I will uncover each one.
Between the cabinets and shelves are a large fireplace and a painting I presume to be his family hanging over it. I make my way over to study the occupants of the family.
Their genes are strong. All the boys look just like their father, from the narrow, untrusting eyes to the long, blunt nose and the squared-off chin. Only Alessandro has a mouth like his mother. His sister is his mother’s twin.
Looking into Alessandro’s eyes, I say, “I’m sorry, but I can’t stop now.”
I return to the desk to see what I might find hidden there. I’ll start with the desk and move to the cabinets. The most important items I’m looking for will be found there.
Kneeling, I insert the key into the top drawer lock, and it doesn’t work. Setting my phone on the desk so the light can angle onto the keys, I glance up briefly.
There’s a picture frame on his desk. I can’t see it well in the dark, but I can tell two people are in the frame. I grab my phone and then the picture. Lifting it, I stare closely at the images in the frame. One in particular.
My heart so pounds loudly in my chest that I’m certain it will awaken him. I feel a bit dizzy as I hold onto the edge of the desk. I’m not crazy. I cannot be crazy.
What the entire fuck?
Bile rises in my throat, and I grab a metal trash basket underneath his desk, pulling it closer to me. The contents of my belly spew forward as the picture frame in my hand trembles. When my eyes return to it again, tears fill my eyes. Two years have passed, but I know who I’m looking at. Nothing has changed.
“Zoe?”
It can’t be Zoe because I’ve been told she died in the explosion, but…it’s her. I know my baby, and this is her. Tears prick my eyes, and anger radiates throughout me, causing a headache.
