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A gasp escapes my lips.
His jaw tics. “My enemies would hurt you to get to me.”
“Guilt by association?” I murmur, trying to understand.
“Something like that.”
The lifestyle he leads is completely foreign to me. Always looking over his shoulder. Always suspicious about the people he surrounds himself with. Always needing to be in total control, or least pretend to be.
I stare at him.
He ignores me and continues eating.
“You can’t just take a person like that. Believe it or not, Sandro, the world doesn’t revolve around you.”
“I can.” Within a heartbeat, he places a thumb beneath my jaw and raises my head until our eyes lock. I shudder because his expression is downright wolfish. “And your world does.”
My gasp fills the kitchen. He loves the idea.
“Caspici?”
“No.” I study him closely. “Explain it to me.”
His phone buzzes, and he curses, already on his feet.
“Eat your omelet before it gets cold.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Things change swiftly over the next two days. Men come and go, some familiar, some not. The house staff have vanished; whether it’s because business has replaced pleasure is hard to say, though I’m grateful for the reprieve.
And Sandro’s temper has taken on a deadly edge.
I hover in the hallway a few feet from his office door as the yelling begins. “Where in God’s sake is Renzo? I thought he was in Italy?”
“Yes, boss. We’ve confirmation he’s here. But he keeps managing to avoid us.”
“He’s a goddamn junkie. How hard can it be to track him down? Contact every kink club, every dealer.”
“Understood, boss.”
“Do you?” I flinch. Sandro’s tone is downright sinister. “I’ll kill each and every one of you if Conti gets his hands on him before we do.”
The room grows quiet.
“What’s the status on the files we seized from C&C Enterprises?” Sandro demands. “Any trace of him or where the fuck he’s hiding?”
My ears prick up.
“No, sir.”
“He probably shit his pants when he learned you escaped,” another man comments.
“Think she knows something, boss?” a third man says. “She worked for Ciro.”
They’re talking about me. I bite my lip, anxious to hear Sandro’s reply.
“You insinuating something?” His tone’s threatening, his question causing my heart to skip a beat.
