She’s lucky Jacopo pulls me away before I can respond. “Stupida ragazzina,” I mutter under my breath as he leads me back to the car. “She’s a fool and a liar, and she knows nothing of use,” I mutter to Jacopo as we get into the car. “Christ. She didn’t even realize how much of a substitute she really was.”
“Substitute?”
“‘Lina’ is her stage name,” I point out. I’ve already looked her up on the IMDb, and until eight months ago, she was working under what I assume is her real name, Lizzie Barker. “My father used to call Julian’s mother ‘Lina,’ hisCara Lina. So who do you think might have encouraged that name change?”
Lina’s whole look is a dime-store knock-off of Caroline Castellani. Whatever else Julian’s mother was, at least she had class. And if my father really did love this surface-level doppelgänger, well, more fool him.
“I didn’t know how much you hated him,” Jacopo says quietly, as he starts the engine, “until I saw you grinding your teeth together every time she mentioned him.”
“Of course I hated him,” I snap. “He did everything in his power to get rid of me, to replace me—my mother—” I break off. “You hated him too, Jack.” I look across at him, immediately aware that I have used the old nickname. He hasn’t driven off yet, just staring out the windscreen with a carefully neutral face. I speak on, covering up my slip. “You would have killed him too, if you could.”
“There’s truth in that,” he sighs, and finally starts driving again. “But he wasn’tmydad. If you hated him so much, and Julian too, why bother to find the real killer? You can easily get rid of Julian by blaming it on him. The senior administration won’t mourn him.”
I snort. “Is that what you think of me? That I’ll do the easy thing, just to save myself some trouble?”
He’s silent for a long time, driving on, and my temper builds until he says, simply, “No. I know you’re a man of honor.”
“Take me back to Redwood. Then get on with your job.”
But the thought of Redwood twists inside me, because that is where I am keeping Teddy. I know what Jacopo would say if he was aware—especially if, as I now think, Teddy MacCallum really is an innocent.
Atemptinginnocent. It is gratifying to know that he had fantasies, that hewantedme—or did, before he saw my face. But even if things were different, if I had never been cut, I would still not be like my father. I would not,willnot succumb to passing desires, will never endanger the Family on a mere whim.
Ciro Castellani almost destroyed the Family when he divorced my mother, all because of hisCara Lina.
And Teddy might be innocent, but some of the chatter on that site of his comes too close to truth at times, even without him knowing. My problem now, of course, is that I can’t let him go. He knows too much. He’s seen too much. He has become more of a problem rather than less.
I can’t see a way to set him free.
CHAPTER15
TEDDY
While Alessandro has been gone,I’ve been investigating the room he locked me into.Rooms, really. There’s the bedroom area, with an enormous bed almost the size of his own, also covered in a silken bed set—though this one is blue, while his was royal purple—and too many pillows to count. There’s thechaise longuenear the window, with the clothes on it that I looked through this morning.
To one side, set into the bottom stroke of the “L” shape of the room, is a sitting area with two small sofas, a wingback chair, a disused fireplace and two well-stocked floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. There’s a door set into the wall between the bookshelves, but when I try the handle, it’s locked.
I get on my knees to look through the keyhole, but it’s blocked by the key. I consider trying to push the key out onto a piece of paper, but when I check the bottom of the door, it’s so close to the plush carpet that it would be pointless to try. The key would never get through.
I’m pretty certain it leads into Alessandro’s bedroom, though, when I try to figure out the layout of this wing.
I leave the door and check out the huge walk-through wardrobe, which is really another room of its own, with a large, round ottoman in the middle and a small chandelier overhead. The racks and drawers are all empty, but perfectly clean.
At the other end of the wardrobe, there’s a sliding door that opens into the bathroom. Large, sparkling white, as well-appointed as Alessandro’s own. There are guest toiletries scattered around, including bubble bath for the spa-jet tub.
I stare at myself in the mirror for a while. If there’s any truth in what Julian keeps saying, that Alessandro might be attracted to me, that I should flirt more, I should probably practice. But when I try to smile at myself, I just end up looking like a serial killer, not someone Alessandro might be inclined to take to bed.
I flush at the thought, until a worse one occurs to me. Oh, God, I hope he hasn’t looked through my DMs to some of the people onCute Crims.
My reflection goes from pink to maroon, and I have to turn away.
Back in the bedroom, I look through everything, every drawer, every cabinet, although I’m not really surewhy. There’s no way Alessandro would have casually forgotten about a stray cell phone or laptop or something. And even if he did, I don’t know what I would do.
Would I send for help?
Or would I just let Mom know that I’m fine, and staying at “a friend’s” house?
I don’t think anyone else would miss me. I don’t have many close friends. Okay, I don’t haveanyclose friends, although I guess someone like Miller Beaumont would notice if I didn’t turn up to his parties for a few months. There are people online who would notice I was gone—but the people online don’t know who I am.
