The voices sounded like they were coming from another corner. I turned it, not even bothering to put the brakes on, and collided with something hard. Hard enough that I felt myself bounce back, except I didn’t hit the ground.
Two strong hands caught me.
Neither of us said anything.
I had no clue why he wasn’t, but I knew why I wasn’t.
I’d died the moment we collided.
Because he’d killed me.
With his hands.
Or his body.
Or whatever.
Because he’d fucking shocked me. Shocked me like I was made of water, and he had an electrical current running through his veins.
It might have been the drugs making me feel the collision like it was one of epic proportions, but I could still feel the shock he’d left behind. I was dizzy, almost unstable on my feet, and I was sure my hair was standing on end like I’d just taken a bunch of clothes out of the dryer.
After what felt like both a mini second and a century had passed between us, he cleared his throat. Our eyes searched for a second, and I remembered him.
Remembered his intensity.
Remembered his name.
Nazzareno Fausti.
He was with his mom. He gave me the subtlest of nods, I thought, and left with her. Then I came face to face with Scarlett Fausti. She must have been there the entire time. Even though she was tiny, she had a fierce look on her face, like she wasn’t fucking around.
Whatever was going on back here, people were rushing toward it.
I wasn’t going to give her a reason to send me in the opposite direction. I was going to play it cool and just act like I was looking for a bathroom and had gotten lost.
Or…there was something I needed to say to her, but I couldn’t remember what it was.
The lie was so much easier to come up with than the truth.
I went to walk past her, but she stopped me. “What is your business back here?”
“The bathroom.”
“There are plenty of bathrooms near the main event room.”
“You must be Scarlett Fausti.” I offered her my hand and she took it. “I’m a—”
“Journalist. Yes. I gathered that.”
I had no idea what my face was doing, because it had become as gooey as my limbs, but I hoped it didn’t seem hostile. She wasn’t being rude, but she was terse, like she needed to fly to wherever she was so anxious to be.
“This area of the palazzo is off limits to guests,” she said. “You need to—”
“I tried.” I sighed. “I’m lost.”
It seemed like she was trying to decide what to do with me when her eyes focused on something behind me. She signaled and a man walked over. It was the same man who Renato—his name, finally!—had left me with.
“Can you escort this woman back to the main event?” Scarlett asked, but there was no mistaking it was a polite order.
