“Regarding?”
I stare at him, unamused. “Regarding mysafety.”
“You are safe, Beatrice,” he says, tone steady. “You don’t need to worry.”
It’s not an answer, not really. But that’s how Valerio works. When he doesn’t want to give information, he responds with smoke and fog. Not lies… but never full truths either.
“Fine. You don’t have to tell me,” I quip and shut the door, irritation prickling under my skin. I don’t want to act like a child, but Ihatewhen they keep me out of the loop.
I walk into the spa, trying to shake off the gnawing feeling clinging to me like a shadow. The last thing I want is the ghost of my past resurfacing again. We barely survived his last resurgence.
The spa smells of eucalyptus and roses. Soft music hums low—piano notes that seem to breathe rather than play. Warm light spills across the marble floors, flickering from tiny candles set in glass bowls.
Peace.This is why I’m here. The chaos of Giacomo can wait at the door.
I let myself be undressed, pampered, scrubbed, soaked—slowly melting into the sweet ambiance of tranquility.
When it’s over, I sit alone in the lounge with a cup of tea at my side, and my journal and pen in my lap.
I open to the first page and ready my pen. I don’t know where to start. Too many emotions buzz beneath my skin. But once I begin, the ink seems to pull the thoughts out of me.
‘The spa was exactly what I needed today. I feel refreshed and ready to take on the next two weeks. But I can’t help feeling like something is looming in the shadows. I’ll need to address it with Matteo when I get home. No more secrets—that was our promise. I want the full truth.’
I pause, thinking.
‘Valerio got me this journal. I’m thankful for it. I can’t believe he’d actually do something like this for me—the ice man really does have a heart. But I can’t let anyone know, or I’ll ruin his brooding bad-boy persona.’
I smile slightly and close the cover. I place it back into my bag, reach for my tea, and sip slowly. I lean back into the lounge chair and melt into the soft cushions.
I want to believe all is well. Stillness lies. It always has.
I step out into the afternoon light feeling lighter than I have in weeks. My muscles are loose. My head is clear. Even the ache behind my eyes has dulled to something manageable.
Valerio waits near the car, leaning against the driver’s side like he has nowhere else to be. In another life, this man could’ve been a model. His gaze sweeps the parking lot, hawk-like, missing nothing.
He’s always watching. Nothing gets past him—and that’s exactly why he’s so damn good at his job.
“I feel like a brand-new woman,” I say as I approach. “Whatever they did back there worked. I feel amazing.”
“You do look a little less dead,” he says. “Miracles do happen.”
“Ha. Hilarious,” I drawl.
He opens the door for me. I step forward?—
BOOM.
The world detonates.
A truck three cars down erupts in a violent bloom of fire and metal. Heat slams into me like a freight train. Glass explodes overhead. The ground vanishes.
I’m airborne before I understand what’s happening.
I hit the pavement hard, breath ripped from my lungs, ears screaming with a high-pitched shriek that drowns out everything else. Somewhere, people are screaming. Somewhere, metal is still twisting and collapsing. I can’t tell where any of it is coming from.
Everything blurs. Flashes. Spins.
Smoke burns down my throat. I cough, sharp and wet, tasting ash and blood. My hands scrape uselessly against the concrete as I try to push up, but my arms shake, weak and uncooperative. My vision doubles. Then triples. Nothing holds still.
