AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Her phone buzzed again and she looked in the rear-view, to see him right behind her, on her tail.
She picked up.
"I told you to never cut my calls," the whiskey voice rolled off, the tone harsh, intimidating.
It broke the spell even as it
weaved it.
"No point in staying on the line if all I get to hear is creepy breathing," she retorted, swallowing, grateful that her voice didn't sound as breathy as she felt.
Silence. But the line stayed open.
She wondered if she should thank him for intervening. That would be the polite thing to do. Screw polite.
"Who was in the SUV?" she asked quietly.
"I'll find out after I get back," he replied quietly, the sound of air loud in the background as he sped behind her.
Morana's eyes drifted to the rear-view again. "You don't have to escort me," she told him tartly.
His voice came back equally tart. "I told you I don't do that gentleman thing."
"Then what are you doing?" she demanded.
"Making sure the information in your little bag doesn't fall into the wrong hands."
Of course!
She'd completely forgotten about the evidence Dante had given her to look at. Things framing Tristan Caine. Of course, he'd want that safe. That explained so much. She cut the call again, that feeling of being connected to him unsettling and she'd had enough of that for a night.
She stayed silent the rest of the way, focusing on the road. The phone didn't buzz again, but he followed. Right till the mansion gates were in sight.
He stopped beside the car again as she paused.
She deliberately didn't look at him again, not wanting him to ensnare her, and felt the weight of his eyes on her as her nape prickled with awareness. Shaking her head, Morana drove forward and into the property as the gates opened. She saw him drive away and relaxed a little, going up the driveway and finally, after minutes of seeing the extensive lawns, parking in her regular spot.
She switched the car off, and sat inside silently, taking a few deep, relaxing breaths, just as her phone buzzed again.
She seriously needed to do more yoga.
She picked up. That husky, deep voice came on again, making her close her eyes.
"There was another reason why I followed you tonight."
The air stuck in her throat and her chest tightened, her heart pattering.
"What?"
There was silence for a few seconds, before the words came on, the dead tone in them, the rigid hatred in them turning her stomach.
"No one else gets to kill you, Ms. Vitalio," he spoke quietly. "The last face you see before you die will be mine. When it comes to death, you're mine."
And then, for the first time, he cut the call.
Two guards stood beside the huge double doors of the house, their eyes passively watching her approach.
Morana kept her spine straight and chin up, her legs gratefully not wobbling on the heels, the pounding headache the only reminder of her drugged state. Moonlight and ground lights mingled in an erotic combination of white and gold, making the path in front of her feet seem almost ethereal. Had she been some stranger walking the same path at the moment, she would have thought of fairy lights and enchanted tales, of long walks under the pure moon, of warmth against the chill in the wind.
