"Professional courtesy of what?"
"One opponent to another." The words come out before I can stop them, and I see understanding flash in her eyes.
She knows what I just admitted. That this has become something more complex than captor and captive.
"Oh, and Camilla?" I move toward the door, needing distance before I do something irreversible. "Next time you want to test the blind spots, remember that just because the cameras can't see you doesn't mean I'm not watching. I’m always fucking watching and I miss nothing."
I leave before she can respond, locking the door behind me with hands that aren't quite steady.
Matteo is waiting in the hallway, his expression knowing.
"Everything alright, boss? You were in there a while."
"Fine." I straighten my jacket, trying to regain my composure. "She's manageable."
He nods slowly. "And the weapons we hid for her? Did she find them?"
"What weapons?" I reply.
His scarred face splits into a grin. "That's what I thought."
I head back to my study, needing another scotch and time to think. But as I pour the amber liquid, I can't stop thinking about the way she looked at me when I stepped close. The sharp intake of breath when my fingers brushed her skin.
She's supposed to be collateral. Temporary. A means to an end.
I drain my scotch and pour another, staring out at the lake that reflects the moon like scattered silver. Somewhere above me, Camilla Colombo is probably planning her next move, sharpening those tiny weapons, using her mind to find a way out of this situation.
Not realizing that in the end, I’ll be the only one who decides her fate.
Chapter 7: Camilla
One opponent to another.
His words echo in my head long after the lock clicks shut behind him. I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the small collection of weapons he generously left me. The fountain pen, the nail files, the hairpin. Evidence of a game I'm only beginning to understand.
He called me his opponent. An interesting choice of words.
I pick up the fountain pen, testing its weight in my palm. The gold nib catches the lamplight, sharp and gleaming. He knew exactly what I was planning to do with this. He watched me search for weapons, let me keep them, even gave me privacy to plan whatever comes next.
Why?
The answer comes to me slowly, like pieces of a puzzle clicking into place. He's intrigued by me. Men as powerful as Renato Vitiello don't get challenged often. Not intellectually, not emotionally, certainly not by the women they kidnap. I'm not behaving the way he expected me to.
And that fascinates him.
I stand and walk to the window, looking out at the lake. Tomorrow, if his plan works, I'll be back with the Rossis. Lorenzo will pay his family's debt, and I'll resume my life as his unwilling bride.
The thought doesn’t exactly make me any happier.
I could try to run. Test those weapons against Renato when he least expects it. But where would I go? Even if I managed toescape this villa, I'd be trapped in the Italian mountains with no money, no resources, no way to get home.
And if I were caught...
Running isn't the answer.
But maybe I don't have to run. Maybe there's another way.
I return to the bed and arrange myself where the cameras can see me, making sure he knows I'm thinking and planning. I pick up one of the books from the nightstand and flip through it slowly. As if I’d be sitting here reading the latest thriller while my life hangs by a thread.
