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As he strode across the room and walked out, she expected to hear the door being locked. She didn’t, but let out a resigned sigh. Even if she wanted to get away, with nothing to protect her feet she wouldn’t get very far, and she’d already learned the house had security cameras. She was his prisoner, and there was no way out. Nervously looking around, she stretched out and closed her eyes.
Chapter 7
Returning to his den and starting a fire in the natural brick fireplace, Marco lit a cigar, poured cognac into a large snifter, and settled on the couch. Whatever Steph was holding back he could get out of her, but the thought of hurting her to do it was wholly unappealing. He’d have to find another way to elicit the information. Sipping his brandy, savoring the warm liquor sliding down his throat, he puffed his cigar and stared at the fire.
Deep lines carved his forehead.
Though his father, Carlo Moretti, had been revered in his world, outsiders had considered him a villainous thug, yet he’d died from cancer, not a bullet, and had never seen the inside of a prison. He had built his organization and amassed a fortune from various ventures—both legitimate and illicit. His mental prowess and powers of persuasion were legendary. Though Marco had inherited his gifts, when facing difficult challenges he often recalled his father’s sage advice.
Emotion has no place in business.
Treat everyone with respect and dignity.
Trust your instincts, but make decisions based on fact.
If you hit a wall, you’re missing something.
Don’t assume anything.
Marco shook his head. He knew she was holding back, but he’d assumed someone had told her to keep her mouth shut. Was he wrong?
Continuing to drink the soothing liquor, he took a deep breath and let his mind wander. A possible answer floated through his brain. She could be scared of his reaction.
He suddenly cursed under his breath.
If that was the case, perhaps it was because of how much she knew.
He had to find out, and soon.
Forcing himself to settle, he sipped his drink, puffed his cigar, and sank back into the couch. The dancing flames began weaving their hypnotic spell, and it wasn’t long before an idea began to form.
He nodded.
It wouldn’t be pleasant, but he’d uncover the secret she was keeping.
Placing his cigar in the ashtray and his glass on the side table, he closed his eyes to work out the details. By the time Benny and Joe returned, Marco knew his way forward. He’d give her one more opportunity, but if she didn’t come clean…
* * *
The sound of a car’s tires crunching its way down the gravel driveway stirred Steph from a series of disturbing, disjointed dreams. Though they were fuzzy, Max had been front and center. Marco had been there too, but he was a firefighter. Confused and groggy, she sat up and switched on the bedside lamp, then looked across at the windows. No light shone through the crack in the closed drapes. Slipping from the bed, she was padding across to the bathroom when she heard a noise in the hall.
She was naked.
Startled, she ran the last few steps and quickly closed the door.
“Steph, it’s me,” Marco called. “I’ve brought your things. I’ll put them on the bed.”
“I’m here,” she exclaimed, peering out. “Thanks.”
“Come and join me. I have a surprise for you.”
“Uh, is there a robe anywhere?” she asked, feeling a bit odd in spite of their salacious activities. “I’m cold.”
“There should be one in the cabinet on the right.”
“I just woke up. Give me a minute.”
Closing the door, she splashed her face with water, then stared at her reflection in the mirror, dubiously wondering what possible surprise he might have for her. Opening the cabinet and finding the thick white terrycloth robe, she slipped it on and walked back into the bedroom. Marco had kicked off his shoes and was sitting in the bed, his back propped up against the padded headboard.
