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“Diego.”
“I wasn’t sure where to buy the skirt you so eloquently decided I was required to replace. But I’ve left a thousand dollars on the counter. If that’s not enough, I’ll wire you more.”
I frown and start to shake my head.
“I reinstalled your security systems.” He cuts off the argument I'm moments away from starting. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up to show you how it works. I have a flight to catch, so if we could get started...”
He walks toward the front door.
“Alessia,” he calls, and without conscious thought, I follow his path, my eyes focused on the coffee table.
“Where are the broken ones?”
“Huh?”
I point. “The broken furniture, where is it?”
“I had them removed.”
I nod absently, moving up beside him.
“Your front door now has three automatic lock mechanisms. Your thumbprint controls them.”
I stand quietly as he saves my thumbprint to the system, giving me short and direct instructions on how to use it.
“It’s the same for coming into the house as going out. When you walk through the door and close it, the locks will click into place.”
“What if someone cuts off my thumb to get into my house?”
His head turns toward me slowly. “If someone is comfortable enough to sever your thumb from your hand, they were likely going to kill you anyway.”
I tip my head in agreement.
“For the thumb ID to appear, you must also enter a six-digit code.” He gestures to the screen, waiting for me to input my numbers.
I flick my hand up, silently telling him to look away, and he does so with an eye roll.
I type in my go-to password, and the screen presents me with a green tick. “Done.”
He turns back toward me. “It has a camera as well, so at any point in time, you can open this app”—he holds up my phone—“and see who is at your front door.”
“How did you unlock my phone?”
“I’ve installed numerous security cameras outside the property.” He ignores me, handing me my cell. “The app on your phone has an alarm. If you feel threatened or there’s an intruder, you hit the button, and it alerts a security company on your brother’s payroll.”
I open the app, look him directly in the eye, and hit the alarm.
He smiles.
I don’t know what we’re doing.
I don’t know why he’s here.
I don’t know why it means so much to me that he cares enough to ensure I’m safe.
I don’t know why I feel the need to reject the kind gesture.
I don’t know why I can’t find the willpower to do it, though.
