My mouth falls open. "How do you know this?"
"Jessica Williams. USC graduate, marketing director at TechFlow Industries. Married two years ago, divorced last year. No children. Active on social media, particularly Instagram where she has fifteen thousand followers."
"You ran background checks on my friends? It's only been thirty minutes!"
"I protect what's mine." He turns to look at me then, and his eyes are cold. "Your friends are entering my territory. I need to know if they're threats."
"You’re being ridiculous! I can promise you they're not threats!"
"The lawyer might be. Lawyers ask questions. Lawyers notice things."
"Sarah's not going to cause problems,” I assure him.
"She's going to stay at a hotel property I own in the next village. Both of them will. It's been arranged."
"You can't just tell them where to stay."
"It's done." He cuts me off. "The hotel is perfect, with a view they can put on Instagram. They'll love it."
"And if they want to stay with me instead?"
"Your house is under renovation. Unsafe for guests. I've had Franco make sure it looks that way."
I stare at him. "You're really going to stage my house to make it look unsafe to my friends?"
"I'm protecting my interests." He pulls out his phone, showing me photos of the hotel. "This is where they'll stay. Elegant rooms, pool, walking distance to three restaurants I own. They'll be comfortable there and pleased with the accommodations."
"Restaurants you own. So, you can monitor where they eat?"
"I’m only ensuring they have a wonderful, safe visit." His tone suggests those two things are mutually exclusive.
"What else?"
"I’ll provide a driver for them. Antonio will do it." He gestures to the man in the front seat. "He speaks some English and will make sure they see all the appropriate tourist sites. He’ll make a wonderful tour guide."
"What appropriate sites?"
"Places where they won't encounter any of my actual business operations."
The car pulls up to his villa, and I notice several more cars parked outside. Through the windows, I can see men moving around inside.
"What's happening? Why are so many people here?"
"Security briefing. Everyone needs to know American tourists are in the territory and they're off limits."
"Off limits. Like I'm off limits?"
"Exactly like that."
We get out of the car, and he guides me inside with a hand on my lower back. The possessive gesture that usually makes me feel desired now feels like a reminder of ownership.
His study is full of men I don’t recognize. They all stop talking when we enter, their eyes moving from Enzo to me with expressions I can't read.
Enzo says something in Italian, and several of the men nod. One asks a question, and Enzo's response is sharp enough to make the man step back.
"English," Enzo commands. "Madison needs to understand the rules."
The room shifts uncomfortably. These are clearly not conversations usually held in English.
