"What about you?"
"I'm always in some level of danger. It comes with the territory."
The matter-of-fact way he says it makes me want to wrap my arms around him and never let go. How does someone live with that constant threat? How do I learn to live with it?
"Will you tell me?" I ask. "When there are threats I should know about? I don't want to be kept in the dark about my own safety or yours."
He considers this for a moment. "Some things are better handled without your knowledge."
"Maybe. But I'd rather know what I'm facing than be protected by ignorance."
"Even if the knowledge frightens you?"
"Especially then."
He studies my face, and I can see him weighing my request against his protective instincts.
"I'll tell you what affects you directly," he says finally. "But there are aspects of my business that you're better off not knowing."
It's not everything I wanted, but it's more than I expected. A compromise.
"Thank you."
My phone buzzes from somewhere in the pile of clothes I discarded last night. I start to get up to find it, but Enzo's hand tightens on mine.
"Leave it."
"It might be important."
"Nothing is more important than this conversation."
But the phone keeps buzzing insistently, and I realize it's probably not a text. Someone is calling. Repeatedly.
"It might be an emergency," I say, though even as I say it, I'm wondering who would call me with an emergency. My parents are in different time zones, my friends think I'm living a quiet life in Italy.
My friends.
"Oh God," I whisper. "Sarah."
"What about her?"
"She's probably calling to check on me."
I finally retrieve my phone and see seven missed calls from Sarah, along with several texts:
"Maddie, call me back immediately."
"Something's wrong. I can feel it."
"If you don't answer I'm calling the police."
"I'm booking a flight back to Sicily."
"MADISON ANSWER YOUR PHONE."
My hands are shaking as I show Enzo the messages. "She's panicking. She thinks something's happened to me."
"Something did happen to you."
