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The lie she’d told in the garage suddenly flashed through her head.
During the mayhem, she’d been too afraid to admit she’d stolen the flash drive in front of Marco. She had to tell him, but at the right time. Quickly dressing, and hoping the coffee and tiramisu would be waiting, she opened the bathroom door.
“Hello, Steph. Are you feeling better?”
“Marco!” she exclaimed, shocked to see him sitting in the throne.
“I ran into Carmine bringing you a tray,” he said calmly. “It’s on the coffee table.”
“Thank you,” she said gratefully, walking quickly across the room. “I’m dying for this,” she continued, pouring the cream into the steaming mug and adding sugar.
“How do you feel? Are you still shaken up?”
“I’m fine, but I’m worried about what happens now,” she replied between swallows of the hot drink. “What about you? Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s under control, but, Steph, are you sure you’re all right? Are you shaking? Do you feel nauseous at all? That was a traumatic event.”
“I was trembling like crazy at first, but the brandy went straight through me and I fell asleep. I’m not shaky anymore, and no, I don’t feel sick at all.”
“We’re staying at my house tonight,” he declared as she took a large bite of the tiramisu. “I’m hoping to return to the lodge in the morning, but I may have to stick around. If I do, you’ll be taken back. It’s the safest place for you.”
“But—”
“Finish up,” he ordered sharply. “I need to go.”
Startled by the edge in his voice, she wolfed down the dessert and downed the last of the coffee. Suddenly remembering her bag, she looked quickly around the room.
“Have you lost something?” he asked, leaving the chair and walking over to her.
“My purse. I don’t remember where I left it.”
“It’s in the Rover. Anything else?”
“No.”
“Steph, take a drink of water,” he ordered, his eyes narrowing.
A slight chill pricked her skin.
She was about to say she didn’t want one, but he was standing directly in front of her. Staring into his dark eyes, she read his silent warning as clearly as if he’d spoken the words.
You’d better do as I say.
Butterflies bursting to life in her stomach, she stepped quickly to the nightstand, picked up the bottle, and took a drink.
“Have I done something wrong?” she asked as he walked toward her.
“Put the bottle down, then turn around and close your eyes.”
Terrified he’d discovered the truth about her theft, she anxiously followed his instruction.
A blindfold slipped over her eyes.
“Open your mouth.”
“Sir, please tell me what’s—?”
A sharp, stinging swat from something solid and wide scorched her backside. Wailing loudly, she instinctively threw her hands behind her.
