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“Th-thank you for the gift.”
It’s no use. He’s rolling out of bed, dressing in sharp, jerky motions. He pulls on just enough to protect his dignity, shirt hanging open and waistcoat scrunched in one hand, then strides from the guest suite, the door closing behind him with a snap.
I’m left alone. Wheezing for breath, arms wrapped tight around my stomach.
I gaze around the room. The sofas and coffee table and closet door all blur as my eyes swim, but he doesn’t come back.
Crap.
That did not go well.
* * *
Someone knocks on my door in the late afternoon. I’m out on my balcony, bundled in the winter clothes that keep appearing like magic while I’m in the shower, staring at the red sun as it sinks over the grounds. Everything is white and snowy. Pristine and ice cold.
This weather suits him. Can’t imagine Santo in a heat wave.
I don’t respond to the knock, but the door to my suite cracks open. A blonde head pokes in, and a private smile flits over the stranger’s face when she sees me outside. “I like the balconies here too.”
This girl’s familiar somehow with her light blonde bob, and it’s not just from yesterday. She picks her way through the guest suite furniture and joins me outside, already bundled in a thick green sweater, and it’s not until she turns to gaze at the grounds that I recognize her.
“Did you…?”
“I worked for your father, yeah.” She shoots me a wry smile. “As a maid. Then he made me spy on De Rossi, and surprise! I got caught. I, um. I actually helped Santo.” Those cheeks burn red, and I raise an eyebrow, waiting. “I broke him into the Edwards mansion the night you were kidnapped.”
Huh. An accessory to the crime. What do you even say to that?
“The sedative was a bit much.”
The maid winces. “Sorry. I had no idea until it was too late, and then Diego promised you’d be okay, and… are you? Are you okay?”
My mouth twists, and I chew that question over. Am I okay?
As kidnap victims go, I’ve been treated like royalty. At this point, I’m not even being kept here against my will, I’m just being… kept. Treasured.
“Yeah,” I admit, and the woman sighs with relief. Holly, I think everyone called her earlier. “Why, are you gonna break me out?”
Those shoulders go back, and Holly’s pointed chin raises. “If you ask me to.”
Shit. Okay, I like this girl. And I don’t know why I’m suddenly confessing my whole soul, but I slump over the railing like a loser. “Actually, I’m not sure Santo would even care at this point. He’d probably thank you for clearing the guest suite.”
Especially after the things I said to him this morning. The way I thanked him for the incredible gift.
God, why did I make such a big deal about that freaking plane ticket? It’s not like I evenwantto go, not if he feels the same way, but the things I mentioned are all true. The power imbalance. The captor thing. One of us needed to say it.
There’s no manual for relationships like this. Is it so awful for me to feel nervous?
“You didn’t see him before, so I get that you won’t realize this.” Holly draws a shape in the snow heaped on the railing—a love heart. “But Santo De Rossi smiled exactly once in the whole month I worked here before you arrived, and that was at the moment they laid you in his trunk.”
I snort, and Holly shoots me a grin.
“He never sleeps. Never smiles. Definitely never laughs or takes days off. Or he didn’t, anyway, before you came. I’m sure there are other things too, other differences I don’t see, but hey. I was just the maid.”
Holly flicks a lump of snow off the railing, then winks at me before walking back inside. “Dinner’s in an hour,” she calls as she crosses the room, “and I know you’re hungry. We can hear your stomach growling from downstairs.”
I cough out a laugh. “I’ll be there.”
“Good.”
