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“Come on,” he said.
The makeshift shiv pressed against the small of my back where I’d tucked it under my waistband and covered it with my blouse. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Boss said you might make it difficult,” he groaned, shaking his head. “I’m under orders to take you to your room. I’m only allowed to touch you if you make it difficult, but I’d rather not test his patience today. He’s already in a pissy mood.”
I ground my teeth. “He could come and get me himself.”
“The don is a busy man.”
“I’m a busy woman, but nobody gave me an option to not be here.”
His exacerbated sigh was enough indication that he hadn’t wanted this task. “Please,” he said in an almost begging tone.“Just let me bring you to your room, and I’ll leave you alone. I don’t have time for this bullshit.”
“My room,” I mused, straightening. “Not a cell?”
“It’s what the boss requested,” he groaned. From his tone, I could tell he disagreed with his illusive boss’s demand, and I wanted to smirk in satisfaction.
“Fine,” I said, striding past him into what looked like a small living area.
It was cozier than I would have expected. A large, cream sherpa rug and dark leather couches sat around a flatscreen, all accentuated with matching throw blankets and modest decorations. It reminded me of an old hunting cabin my dad used to love spending cool winter weekends in upstate New York.
My eyes shifted to my emptied purse on the desk, and I shot the man a glare as I approached it and shoved all the contents inside.
“What did you think you were going to find? A bomb?” I shot at him.
But I knew exactly what they were looking for—any sign that I was a threat.
I wasn’t stupid enough to leave one.
Hell, I’d spent years doing undercover work and keeping myself hidden from all but Valentino’s closest advisors. I’d spent yearsensuring nobody knew my face. I wouldn’t be sloppy enough to leave an incriminating item in my purse.
“Where’s my pepper spray?” I asked, sifting through the stuff.
“We’re not leaving you alone with a weapon here.”
Funny. If only he knew.
I made a show of huffing and followed him up a flight of stairs toward the second-story room that had, apparently, been assigned to me. I strode inside, and before the man could follow, I slammed the door between us. The subtle thump told me I’d hit him with the door before it latched, and I couldn’t stop the smug smile that crossed my lips.
It evaporated when I looked around.
This wasn’t like the nearly empty guest bedroom on the first floor. It was tidy, but the bed had wrinkles from where it was made in a rush. The dark duvet and sheer black curtains didn’t match the décor I’d seen in the rest of the house. Knick-knacks littered the top of the dresser, none substantial or important enough to have a place. I took in a small pack of cigars, a lighter, and a few poker chips. A half-melted candle—sandalwood.
The room smelled of sandalwood, too, and I could almost place another lingering scent.
I threw my purse on one of the bedside tables as I moved toward the dresser and pulled it open.
Clothes rested inside, neatly folded.
This wasn’t a guest room.
As the realization hit me, the door to the room opened, and Dante strolled inside, grinning wildly.
“Is my room to your liking?” he asked.
Shit. How was I supposed to stash my shiv here?
“Why am I inyourroom?” I asked, looking around again.
