"Is not safe. Please."
Another rustling sound from the bushes, closer this time, makes my decision for me. Pride is one thing, but becoming dinner for whatever lives in these mountains is another.
"Fine," I say, yanking open the passenger door. "But this doesn't mean I'm going back to his house."
"Yes, yes. Your house. I take you to your house."
I collapse into the passenger seat and immediately want to cry with relief. My feet are throbbing, my ankle feels like it might be sprained, and I'm pretty sure I have gravel embedded in my palm from catching myself when I stumbled.
"Thank you," I say as Antonio pulls back onto the road.
"Is nothing. The boss, he was worried."
"The boss can worry all he wants. I'm not his responsibility."
He doesn't respond to that, but I catch him glancing at me in the rearview mirror with something that might be amusement.
The rest of the ride passes in blessed silence.
When we pull up to my disaster house, it looks even more depressing than usual in the darkness. No lights, no warmth, just a pile of old stones that may or may not be structurally sound.
"Signorina," he says as I get out of the car. "You have my number if you need anything." He hands me a business card through the window.
"Thanks," I say, though I'm not sure what kind of help he's offering or whether I'd want it.
After the car disappears down the mountain road, I stand in front of my house and realize I may have just made a terrible mistake. It is completely dark, probably freezing inside, and I can hear things rustling in the bushes that might be wild boar for all I know.
But it's my terrible mistake to make in my own house.
I unlock the front door and step into the darkness, using my phone's flashlight to navigate to the camping supplies I left upstairs. I have a battery-powered lantern, a sleeping bag rated for cold weather, and enough energy bars to last a few days.
It's not luxury, but it's independence.
I set up the lantern and arrange my sleeping bag on the old mattress, then sit in the circle of light and try to process what just happened.
Enzo Benedetti is either the most successful businessman in Sicily or something much more dangerous. His house screams money and power, but there's something underneath all that sophistication that makes me very nervous.
And yet.
The way he looked at me across that candlelit table. The way he said my name like he was tasting it. The way the air seemed to crackle whenever we got too close to each other.
I'm attracted to him. Dangerously, stupidly attracted to a man who's holding a massive debt over my head and sabotaged my car to keep me from leaving.
This is exactly the kind of situation my mother warned me about. Well, not exactly. I don't think Mom ever imagined I'd end up owing money to a potentially criminal Italianbusinessman. But the general principle applies: when something seems too good to be true, it usually is.
I pull my sleeping bag up to my chin and listen to the old house settling around me. Somewhere in the distance, an owl calls, and the wind rattles the loose shutters.
It's not comfortable, but it's honest. No hidden agendas, no subtle threats wrapped in expensive wine and candlelight. Just me, my disaster house, and a debt problem I need to solve.
Tomorrow, I'll figure out my next move. Tonight, I'm sleeping in my own house, making my own choices.
Even if those choices involve sharing space with mice and possibly bats.
At least the mice don't want anything from me except maybe some crumbs.
Chapter 6: Enzo
I watch her disappear into the darkness beyond my gates, her heels clicking against the asphalt like gunshots in the silence. The stubborn set of her shoulders, the way she refused to look back even once. Madison Sullivan just made the biggest mistake of her life.
