AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Oh! Mr Cedrone—”
She breaks off as I crouch down to pick up her feather duster. Down here, with my elbows resting on my knees, my face is level with her stomach, the taut planes of her belly pushing against the cotton of her dress with each breath. If I pressed my face against her stomach, would I feel her body heat? Would she let me rub my face on her and breathe her in?
See, it’s thoughts like that that make me think I’m losing my grip. I push reluctantly to my feet. “Dusting the shelves?”
Holly pauses before she answers, and it’sthis, shit like this that makes her suspect number one. Why’s she gotta think through her answer? It should be an immediate yes, no pause required.
“Um. Yes. But I couldn’t reach high enough—”
“There’s a ladder.”
She follows my nod and blinks, cheeks flushing even brighter. “Oh. Wow, I guess I didn’t look properly.”
Not very spy-like. That’s good. “It’s safe if you want to use it.”
“Thanks.”
We stand there, awkward silence wrapping around us, and I curse myself for ever coming in here. I could’ve watched her for a while longer, maybe seen another glimpse of hidden thigh, and what do I care if Santo’s top bookshelves don’t get dusted? No skin off my nose.
Out there in the darkness, I could’ve looked my fill. Could’ve stared at Holly until my eyes ran dry, the wind howling all around.
The maid clears her throat, her pulse tapping out a fast rhythm beneath her jaw. “Is there anything I can do for you, Mr Cedrone?”
Oh, there are hundreds of things this girl could do for me, and they all flash before my eyes. Things on her back or on her knees; things with her dress rucked up around her waist. Things that end with my teeth on her throat and my seed spilling out of her, trickling down those creamy thighs.
And other things too, that somehow feel even more shameful. Things like her pressing a soft kiss against my beard, or sitting in my lap for hours and telling me about her day. Smoothing down the creases in my shirt, or teasing me for the dusting of gray at my temples.Sentimentalthings.
Jesus.
“Yeah.” I wrench my gaze away from her, feeling trapped. Feeling wild. “Yeah, do me a favor, okay? Don’t linger in this room—in fact, don’t linger in any room, Holly. Do your job, then get out. Okay? You don’t want to draw attention to yourself, do you?”
Because if Holly’s the spy… I don’t know how I’ll handle that. We’ve barely spoken, and already I think it might break something in me.
Her lips press together and she nods once. She’s staring at the floor now, and won’t look up, and I can’t blame her, what with me barking orders like that. Was that really necessary?
Time to follow my own advice. I turn around and get the hell out of there.
Three
Holly
He’s on to me. De Rossi’s enforcer: the man with a ragged scar on his cheek and swollen knuckles on his right hand, like he doled out one too many punches and the bones have never recovered. He knows I’m the spy.
Or he suspects, at least. Because if he knew for sure, I’d already be dead, right? Sinking down to the river bed with cement boots on my feet. But last night in the library, he dismissed me with this glare that saw right down to my soul. That told me heseesme, and he’s furious about it.
Oh, god. How did I get into this mess?
Ruthie.Screwing my eyes shut, I force myself to picture my sister back at home in our apartment, knitting baby hats and wiping her eyes when she thinks I’m not looking. We have the same blonde hair but hers is longer, always braided to one side. Now that I know about her bump, it’s impossible to miss, even with her baggy sweaters.
That’s how I got here, and it’s why I’ll keep leaking information to the Governor. Because what’s my alternative? Besides, it’s not like these are good people, you know?
They’re murderers. Criminals. Hell, the man with the scar, Diego Cedrone—heoozesviolence. He bristles with it, and I shouldn’t feel guilty.
So why do I feel so small and gross? Like a creepy little cockroach, sneaking around the mansion and listening at doors.
They’re bad people. Bad people.
Bleurgh.
