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I also wish we didn’t need a bodyguard walking only a few feet behind us at all times. But I knew what I was signing on for. And like me, Bruno is only doing his job.
“Can we do this again tomorrow?” Ophilia asks once we’re back in the car.
Matteo gives her a gentle laugh before shaking his head. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. But that’s what makes special days special. You can’t have them all the time.”
“We’ll still have fun together,” I promise her, and she snuggles against me while holding her father’s hand. It would be so easy to forget what’s real and lose myself in the fantasy of us being something more than what we are to each other.
“How about I join you for dinner?” he suggests. “Would that help?”
Right away, her eyes light up again. I wish I had the ability to go from sad to happy so quickly, the way she does. “Yeah! Can you both eat with me?” When I look down into those big, dark eyes, I am toast. How could I possibly turn her down?
After dinner, Matteo retreats to his office—but not before giving Ophilia a hug and a kiss goodnight. “Thank you for spending the day with me,” he murmurs close to her ear, just loud enough for me to hear. She’s practically glowing with pride when I take her hand so we can head upstairs for a bath before she goes to bed.
He is so much kinder and sweeter than I would ever have guessed. I could almost forget about the way he makes his living.
Ophilia keeps herself occupied during her bath, chattering away about every aspect of our day while I go back and forth over how to feel about her father. I’m still pondering my feelings and the confusion over what we did by the time I sit with her on her bed, carefully combing and scrunching her wet curls.
When the door opens a crack, my heart leaps in a way I wish it wouldn’t. I want it to be him—one more moment with Matteo before the night’s over.
Instead, it’s the gray-haired, sour-faced housekeeper. “Sarah.” Grace crooks a finger at me, and the way she looks around tells me she doesn’t want to be overheard.
“You got this, kiddo?” I place a pair of pajamas beside her before going to the door. “I’ll be right back for your story.”
As soon as I’m out in the hall, I ask, “What is it?”
She’s wringing her hands. “I have to talk to you. You seem like a sweet girl, and you love Ophilia, so you don’t deserve what’s coming.”
“I don’t understand what you mean,” I whisper while my blood runs cold.
“I… saw what happened between you and Mr. Bianchi in the hall on your first night.” She’s definitely not embarrassed to admit that. I would be if I were spying on somebody.
“Yes, I know.”
She still doesn’t seem embarrassed. “Mr. Bianchi… You have to be careful with him. I’ve worked here for years, since his father’s time, and I’ve seen him go through women like most people go through tissues. As soon as he’s tired of them, he discards them. It doesn’t matter if they work for him. He’ll fire them without a second thought.”
My blood has gone from cold to icy. I figured it would be like this, didn’t I? It was always going to be complicated. And the worst part is, she has no idea how far we’ve gone since that night. It makes a simple kiss look like nothing.
“Thank you.” I don’t know what else to say. She narrows her eyes at me—maybe she was expecting something else—before giving me a firm nod and walking away.
What am I supposed to do now? I can’t help but remember how nice it was today, how much fun we had. How normal everything seemed. Grace’s warning has soured all of that. Spoiled it.
“Sarah? I’m ready. It’s time for a story.” Right. I’m here to do a job, and there’s a little girl waiting for me. I can’t make her suffer all because I don’t know how to feel about her father.
But once she’s down for the night, there’s nothing to distract me from my worries. It’s obvious we need to talk, even if I don’t have the first clue what to say. Maybe if I had a little more experience with things like this, it would be easier. Matteo would probably laugh if he knew he was the first man to ever look at my body, to touch or taste it, or anything.
I have to be brave. I have to suck it up and get it over with, or else the questions and doubts are going to kill me. I need to do this.
The door to his office is open a crack. I close my fingers around the knob and start to push before realizing the voice I hear coming from inside isn’t Matteo’s.
“I want the fucker dead. This is what we talked about. That’s the agreement we made.” Whoever he is, he’s angry—but he can’t be serious. An agreement to kill somebody?
“I remember the agreement, Jack.” Matteo almost sounds bored.
“Well?”
There’s a sharp gasp, and I realize it’s because I’ve already pushed the door and signaled my presence. I let go of the knob like it burns my skin and back away, ready to run—but it’s too late for that because the door is opening wider, and Bruno’s already menacing scowl deepens when he sees me.
“What the fuck is this?” the strange man barks while Matteo marches across the room to where Bruno holds me in place in the doorway.
