Then we were moving. I blinked up at Brando and cleared my throat. “How long was I asleep?”
“Long enough.”
“You don’t need to carry me.” I yawned. “I can walk.”
He glanced down at me, eyes serious. “I know,” he said softly. “I want you in my arms.”
“Oh.” It came out as a swoon-worthy sigh. I melted into his arms, his embrace, and he could’ve carried me back to our villa in Tuscany for all that I cared.
As we grew closer to our room, he cleared his throat. “Don’t go to sleep, Ballerina Girl. We need to talk. Without using words.”
At first I thought he had meant something sexual, but then his meaning became clear to me with more thought. I signed:Like this?
He nodded and we didn’t say another word until we came to our room. Before I jumped in our bed, I made a pit stop in the bathroom. Too much lemonade was hard on the kidneys.
“Do you have to watch?” I insisted.
“Yeah, I don’t see the problem.”
“This is personal!”
“We’re married. Nothing is personal. You watch me all of the time. You waltz in and out like I’m in here fixing a leaking roof or a faucet. And you don’t mind when you’re using public bathrooms—you make me stand outside of the door so you don’t have to lock it.”
This was true. I had an irrational fear of locking bathroom doors out in public. Some of them looked questionable, like perhaps they wouldn’t open again once locked. I’d be trapped inside with the smell and the filth, along with rodents or whatever else decided to tramp through.
“Hmph!” My cheeks burned.
He grinned. “I like when you make that noise. Do it again.”
I narrowed my eyes at him while I washed my hands. He smiled at my mean face. His humor didn’t last long though. He stopped smiling when I signed,What’s going on?
Leaning his back against the counter, he crossed his arms over his chest. He had most of the language, but sometimes he forgot certain signs and I had to piece the conversation together. He seemed to be thinking so I wouldn’t have to this time.
There’s a rat among us.
What?I signed with gusto and mouthed the word.
In this house,he signed back.
My mouth fell open and goosebumps puckered my skin. “Who?” I whispered.
He shook his head.Could be anyone.
Why do you think that?
“Nemours,” he whispered. Then he signed:He knows where you are all of the time. How? I have a feeling he sent…“Taylor.”
I leaned on the counter, slid to the edge, where I collapsed on the toilet. This wouldn’t be the first time Nemours had sent someone after me. In Paris, he sent a stalker after me that killed my roommate because I had refused to dance.
The gangsters that were protecting him were keeping him hidden from the Italians. No one could find him. He was a rat, living beneath the sewers, coming out mostly at night and squeezing himself into situations that would crush the bones of a normal being. That didn’t mean he didn’t have someone on the inside with us. How would Taylor know where I was? Ireland? Spain? Here? Taylor had known Brando and his brothers were in Africa.
What about Ciro?I still didn’t get a good feeling about him—or any feelings, which made me antsy. And what made me even more suspicious was that he left not long after Guido had been attacked in Ireland.
Brando lifted his arms, bringing them down against his chest.Who knows?
Perhaps Ciro could’ve been giving Taylor information? Making it cleaner for him to get rid of me? Or you?
Brando thought about this for a moment. He shook his head. “Lothario,” he mouthed. Then he went into signing again. …did not tell anyone until the last minute that we were coming here. Marzio and Grazia owned a place in Sardinia.It was known that we were going there until the last minute.
