I curl my fingers under the wood frame, painted over with swirls of blue, and lift the window.
“Lupo,” I call, my voice hushed. The word bounces off the brick walls and echoes back. With a sigh I put out a bowl of dog food in case he comes back later.
Then I shut the window. At least he’ll be able to relax better with me gone.
Exhaustion drags at my limbs, the euphoria of the night collapsing into grief. Giovanni is gone. I need to accept that. Sometimes I feel like my life depends on it.
My gaze drifts over to the bare nightstand surface. No oranges. I must have gotten up during the night and eaten them. It’s the only thing that makes sense. The only thing left is a full glass of water.
I take a sip, and the liquid feels so refreshing, so calming, that I take another sip. And another.
Soon the glass is half-full. Sleep drags my eyelids down. This is crazy. I’m still dressed in a s
ilver sheathe, still holding my clutch in my hand, makeup on my face and high heels on my feet. I’m not ready for bed at all, but I feel like I’m a breath away from sleep.
The night must have taken more out of me than I thought. I guess it’s not that strange for me to be sleepy—I woke up early and then had to deal with Shane. Then there was the unveiling and the impossible hope of seeing Giovanni. Maybe I can take a little nap.
I drink the rest of the glass of water and barely set it down before my hand slips. My eyes are already closed by the time I curl up against the pillow, on top of the blanket.
A little nap.
So strange, though, how quickly I fell asleep. Completely dressed. All of a sudden.
Only as sleep claims me do I remember that the glass was half-full last night. And I didn’t refill it today. Someone else did, my mind sleepily fills in. But I’m too tired to care. Sleep pulls me under.
Chapter Seven
Something moves me gently, constant and rhythmic like waves. I’m warm. There’s something soft curling around my arms, wrapped inside my fists. Padding beneath my cheek that smells like home.
An unnatural darkness weighs down on me, keeping me from waking up—a demon’s whisper in my ear. You’re warm, you’re safe. Sleep.
But something is wrong.
I remember falling asleep, so suddenly, remember drinking water that I hadn’t filled. And I remember the phone call from Amy telling me that Giovanni’s alive. Impossible.
Awareness pricks my skin like a cold breeze. Wherever I am, I’m not alone.
I blink rapidly, forcing my eyes open. They adjust to the darkness quickly, taking in the tinted windows on either side and the wide leather bench curving beneath me. I’m in a car. A limo, to be exact. And it’s moving.
On the opposite side of the long space, a large body reclines. I can see the wide stance of his legs, the pale white of his shirt. A suit jacket tossed beside his hip. His face is hidden in the shadows of the vehicle.
I was raised by the head of the Las Vegas mafia, the capo. I grew up around guns and violence, so I know when a man is armed. It’s the way he holds himself, the warning shimmering around him like a dark halo.
This man is armed and extremely dangerous.
Every muscle in my body tenses. My mind still swims in thick water, because I must have been drugged. He drugged me, this faceless man. Why did he take me? It won’t be anything good, that’s for sure.
Even worse, I suspect this has something to do with my past, with my family. It’s messed up that I’d rather be taken by some random psycho. But at least then I’d have a chance of getting away.
“Who are you?” I demand, my voice hoarse from whatever drugs they gave me.
There’s a long pause, the weight of his regard as heavy as a finger trailing down my neck.
“Have I really changed that much, bella, that you don’t recognize me?”
The deep timbre runs over my skin, filling the hollows that have been there for years. Years when I believed he was dead, that he had been killed protecting me. Except he’s here.
“How?” I manage, unable to take in any oxygen. The car might as well be a black hole. There’s no air here, no light. It’s crushing me.