Madison appears in the doorway wearing one of my shirts, nothing else. "I’m worried."
"About?"
"What happens when Sarah figures out what you really are."
"If she figures that out, she's smarter than her investigator."
"She's very smart."
"Then she's smart enough to know when to stop looking."
Madison crosses to where I'm sitting, curling into my lap like she belongs there. Which she does.
"Promise me they'll be safe," she whispers. “Promise me nothing will happen to my closest friends.”
"As long as they leave when planned."
She lets out a long sigh as if she accepts this.
Three more days.
In my world, three days is nothing.
Or everything, if the wrong questions get asked.
Chapter 23: Maddie
I knock on Sarah and Jessica's hotel room door at nine the next morning, carrying coffee and pastries from the café down the street as a peace offering for last night's tension at the villa.
"Room service!" I call out.
Jessica opens the door wearing the hotel's fluffy white bathrobe, her hair in a messy bun. "Maddie! Perfect timing. Sarah's in the shower plotting her next interrogation, but I'm caffeinated and ready to hear everything."
She grabs the coffee and pulls me into their suite. The room is gorgeous, marble surfaces, sea views, French doors opening onto a private terrace. Their suitcases have exploded across every surface.
"This place is incredible," I say.
"Definitely nicer than we could afford on our own," Jessica says. "Yeah, we figured that out. Your boyfriend has expensive taste."
"It's complicated with him," I say automatically.
"You keep saying that." She settles onto the bed with her coffee. "Want to explain what's actually complicated about it? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks pretty simple. Hot Italian guy with a villa and mysterious business interests has swept you off your feet."
Before I can answer, Sarah emerges from the bathroom already dressed in jeans and a white shirt that's somehow perfectly pressed.
"Morning, Maddie." She accepts coffee with the desperate gratitude of someone who needs caffeine to function. "Sleep well?"
"Fine."
"At Enzo’s villa?"
The question is pointed. I stayed there last night after dinner, per Enzo's orders, but I hadn't mentioned that.
"How did you know that?"
"Your car wasn't at your house this morning."
My stomach drops. "You went to my house?"
