Smiling, I placed a soft kiss on his lips, and then, like a deepwhooshof air after going too long without it, he freed me.
He watched as I stumbled to my feet, my head still a little woozy, my body completely sore, and covered my bare skin in a silk robe. I did the necessary things in the bathroom, and on my way out, twisted my hair up into a messy bun. Little tendrils fell around my face in soft waves.
Maybe because I’d experiencedthe little deathand survived it, I could see the life burning beneath my skin. My eyes looked electric. My lips rosy and plump. My complexion like shimmering candlelight.
Cilla seemed to take notice of it when I walked into the kitchen.
“You’re all lit up like a candle,” she said, her eyes appraising me through the moody darkness. “Or maybe high.”
She hadn’t put on any lights. She had cooked grilled cheese by the light of the microwave. It was depressing, so I flipped on the lights. She winced, squinting at me.
“Turn them off,” she said, turning back to her sandwich to flip it. “I don’t want bright.”
The venom I expected when I’d heard the doors slam earlier slithered through the air.
I leaned against the counter, my eyes on her. “What’s going on, Cilla?”
“Nothing,” she snapped.
“Something,” I said.
She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
“If it matters to you, it matters to me, show girl. Whatever it is clearly does.”
She slipped a grilled cheese on a plate and slid it to me. She made damn good grilled cheeses. She coated the inside of the bread with mayonnaise, the outside with butter, and then stuffed the middle with whatever kind of cheese and thin slices of tomato.
“Thank you,” I said, taking a small bite.
She nodded, and I noticed her shoulders relaxing some, until Aniello came out of the room. She stiffened. I looked between the two of them, but Aniello’s face didn’t show any hint of emotion or feeling. His usual. Cilla was burying hers deep.
“Pack a bag,” he said, looking at his phone. “Both of you.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said, but it was a lame attempt at an argument. I could tell there was no true fight in her. She knew better.
“You each have five minutes to pack for a couple of days,” he said, not even bothering to argue. “You bring a bag or you don’t.” He shrugged. “Not my issue.”
I offered him a bite of my sandwich. He looked at it, at Cilla, and then shook his head. “Five minutes starts now,” he said.
After Cilla gave me a death glare, mouthingtraitor, we both took our sandwiches to our rooms and ate while we packed. I had the next two days off, so I figured he was bringing us somewhere more private. I packed three different outfits, all casual, and three sets of pajamas. I hustled to get a few of my favorite makeup items and toiletries in my bag. We were down to seconds.
That was how fucking precise he was.
I quickly switched out Bambina’s collar on our way out. When I did, the same noise that had woken me up earlier, from his phone, went off. It sounded like an alert.
He had the door opened exactly five minutes later. Two minutes later we were in a car I’d never seen before, a sporty looking black Range Rover with windows so dark there was no way anyone could see in. Two minutes later, we were on the road, heading in the direction of the city that never sleeps.
* * *
I wasquiet as the car sped toward the city. I gazed out of the window, thinking about the car that had pulled into the condo’s complex as we’d left it.
Ben.
He was arriving in his expensive car right as we were leaving. It was clearly him though. When the lights of Aniello’s car hit the glass, it highlighted Ben’s face before it was drawn back into darkness.
One thing was for certain, I would have to be one of those romantic fools in Cilla’s romance novels to believe that the timing of our leaving and Ben’s arrival was merely a coincidence.
The man next to me, his strong profile hard against the many lights of the city, didn’t do anything by chance. Just like he had our timing down to a second. We had one minute to spare—ten minutes in total—to leave as Ben was pulling in.
