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I open my mouth, then close it again. Even I know when to quit while I’m ahead, and I think I’ve pushed Marco’s buttons as far as I can today.
Or, at least, until dinner time.
We ride the rest of the way in silence, in the confined space of his elevator, as I try not to think about diving out the nearest window and plummeting to my death just to get away from him.
I know without a doubt that what he said was true, but none of it adds up.
The Medicis aren’t exactly known for their ‘safe’ practices.
Angelo Medici is the most feared man in Boston, next to my Uncle Aleksi, but I have a feeling that Marco is slowly but surely moving into first place.
All we need now is the man with the checkered flag. Surely there’s a racing track around here somewhere?
I don’t say another word until the doors ping open on the top floor.
My sentence has just started.
9
MARCO
I allowher to step ahead of me, my hands fisted at my sides. I don’t trust myself to speak because if I do, I’ll end up shouting at her and probably making her cry.
I’ve been known to do that, not because I enjoy making women cry, but because I tend to hurt them by being brutally honest.
We take a left, and I proceed to show her to her room.
Of course, I picked the best suite in the house.
When I open the door, I hear a small gasp from her lips.
The room, like every other one before it, is adorned with a textured white and gray wallpaper. It has a huge four-poster bed, an open lounge area with antique furniture, and a modern plush bathroom with a claw-foot tub overlooking the grounds.
I berate myself for offering her this room the moment I step in.Fucking fool.
She’s under house arrest, not on fucking vacation.
Still, having her close will be better than having her wandering around downstairs whenever she feels like it. She can use the elevator to go down to the kitchen, but I wasn’t kidding when I said there will be guards everywhere. She won’t see any of them, except Rocco and Santino, and possibly Darko if Angelo spares his best henchman. I doubt it, though. Angelo was under the impression I could handle this little minx all by myself.
I try not to let the fact that her scent has been a distraction the entire afternoon. It doesn’t matter that she’s wearing sweats and hasn’t a scrap of makeup on. She’d be beautiful dressed in a paper bag.
“You’ll find all you need here,” I say when she strolls across the Persian rug.
Maurice also lit the fire and it’s cozy and warm. She glances around, and once again, her face is difficult to read. I don’t know what she’s thinking.
“Katiya?”
She turns to look at me. “Yes?”
“You will not leave this floor, do you understand?”
Her eyes narrow. “What if it’s an emergency?”
I point to the house phone on the bedside table. “You’ll press 1, and Maurice or my housemaid Clary will assist you.”
Her nostrils flair slightly, and I refrain from smirking. “I thought I wasn’t a prisoner?”
“I never said that.”
