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It could have been a trap, a game. If I walked out of the room, there could be someone standing there in the hallway, ready to pounce. But what was the point? This woman didn’t strike me as the type to play games any more than Amadeo did.
“A word of advice, though,” she said as I stood up and dug my bare toes into the carpet.
“Don’t go back home,” she said. “Don’t go anywhere there aren’t plenty of people around. If Bianchi comes to you, don’t let him get you anywhere on your own. And if you don’t have a gun already, I suggest you get one.” She pressed her lips together like she had more to say but was holding back.
She shook her head after a moment, apparently dismissing whatever it was. “I’m going to go downstairs now. I suggest you take a few minutes to think about it, and then, whatever you decide…” She shrugged. “Well, at least it was your choice,si?”
And just like that, she turned and walked out of the room. I was really free. I could leave.
“Thank you,” I called after her.
She didn’t stop, but she nodded her head as she started down the tall spiral staircase.
I stood in the open doorway, watching as she reached the landing and disappeared somewhere further inside the house.
My feet weren’t moving. Why weren’t they moving? I should have been flying down the stairs and out the front door. I should have been running as hard and fast for freedom as humanly possible.
Good? Definitely not in the traditional sense of the word.”
“He’s keeping you here for your own protection.”
“You should be damn grateful there are men like Deo out there who don’t mind getting their hands dirty.”
Bloody hell, maybe she had been playing games with me, getting inside my head.
A door across the hallway opened and another blonde woman stepped out through it, one who bore a vague resemblance to Greta. She was wearing silk pajama pants and a camisole, and her upper arm was wrapped in a bandage, the reddish-pink tinge of blood just beginning to seep to the surface.
She came to an abrupt stop when she saw me.
“Buongiorno,” she said with a faint line forming between her perfectly arched eyebrows.
I nodded, not quite sure what to say to this woman.
“I’m Freya,” she said, her bafflement seemingly long forgotten as she crossed the hall with a kind smile on her face. “I assume you’re Deo’s…” she trailed off, looking at me like she was waiting for me to fill in the blank.
And how would I do that? Kidnap victim? Could I even call myself that if I wasn’t making a beeline for the exit?
“I’m Heidi,” I said instead.
She flashed me a small, knowing smile that had me looking away uncomfortably.
My gaze settled on her bandage-covered arm. “You should see about having that bandage changed,” I said, nodding at it.
“Si. I’ve been waiting forPapà’sdoctor, but he seems to be taking his time.”
“Do you—” I slammed my mouth shut, but Freya just looked at me, waiting for me to continue.
Well, I’d already mended one criminal today; why not help another?
“If you have the supplies, I can change the dressing for you,” I offered.
Her brows drew together.
“I’m a doctor,” I explained in case she thought I had some strange wound fetish.
“A beautiful woman with brains too?” she said, smiling. “My brother would be wise to hold onto you.”
Yes, it seemed he was of a similar mind, though the image that sprung to mind wasn’t of syringes filled with sedative. The handcuffs and rope I’d found in his room flashed behind my eyes. His big hands and long fingers. His amber eyes changing from smug certainty to heat and need–
