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I walked along a stone path leading to the pool, then shortcutted through a meadow to the darker area of the extensive garden of Uncle Fausto’s villa.
I’d staked out the house and the security system. Dodged Uncle Fausto’s watchful eyes and those of his goons all evening.
Except when I followed her into the foyer instead of what I should’ve done—just blocked the door and hindered her escape.
Fuck.
I ran my fingers through my hair. Here I was back to obsessing. Even out here.
When I should be in there, focusing on getting a read on all the men in the room. Cousins of ours, capos, ‘made’ men who were most likely on Fausto’s side of this war for power.
I was in enemy territory. And the only two men I could trust were Cristo and Alessandro—my brothers.
I replayed the evening.
There weren’t any overt threats or strange situations.
She came back to mind.
The way she handed me a new glass after mine got knocked over.
She’d tried to tell me something, when she handed me the glass, though I missed what.
Fuck.
If this evening was any evidence of how coming back home had completely messed up my mind and fucked with my ability to focus on the important, I didn’t know if coming back was such a smart decision.
There was a noise to my right, and I crouched down and froze.
Was this the attempt on my life I’d been waiting for all evening?
I waited, listened.
Movement, a muffled cry—female—when someone stumbled and fell.
I moved toward the sound, farther away from the lights. There were bushes separating the vast gardens into smaller areas which would make hunting someone incredibly fun.
I could hear her short gasps quite clearly now.
She was running, darting from hedge to hedge—trying to remain hidden in the shadows.
Escaping or playing?
I closed my eyes and calculated her distance and trajectory, then moved into position and waited until she was on top of me.
I stepped forward. “In a hurry?”
It took me a split-second to recognize her and cover her mouth to muffle her shriek. I pulled her struggling frame against my body and with me into the bushes, carefully avoiding her flailing arms and legs.
Her heartbeat thrashed against my arm.
“Shhh. Be quiet.”
But instead of doing exactly that, she took the flesh of my middle finger between her teeth and bit down—hard.
Fuck.
It hurt like a bitch. She’d probably taken a piece out of me.
