Jacopo is unconvinced. “He’s not a toy. You can’t just pick him up and put him down again when you get tired of him.”
I’m getting angry now. “I have treated him like a prince,” I snap. And—apart from denying him his liberty—thatistrue. “I’ve looked after him. You can ask him yourself. Teddy is not a toy to me.”
“So what’s with the clothes?” At my frown, he goes on, “You’ve dressed him up like a life-sized doll tonight, Sandro. You think I can’t seeyourhand in that outfit he’s wearing? Listen to me—Teddy isobsessedwith Mafia shit, with criminals—”
“He is obsessed withme,” I correct him.
Jacopo sounds almost gentle when he says, “Love is not the same thing as obsession. If you’re looking for love—”
“I don’t see what business it is of yours.”
“Teddy is Miller’s friend, and mine, too. And you—” He cuts off as I give a cold smile.
“I already know how you treat your friends, Jacopo. I’ll be sure to give Teddy a warning. Now, enough of that. Let’s talk strategy.”
* * *
At last I see Jacopo and Miller out the door, my arm around Teddy, who leans into me, warm and snuggly. He feels so natural there by my side, but Jacopo’s words are still echoing in my ears:Love is not the same thing as obsession.
As soon as their taillights disappear, I step forward to close the door, and lock it up. I dismissed Wilson for the night long ago, so we’re alone in the foyer. I turn to Teddy, who is smiling lightly, looking pleased with himself. Withme.
“That went well!” he says. “Don’t you think?”
“Go up to bed,” I tell him.
His face falls, and my heart aches to see it. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No. No, you were perfect.” I speak more kindly, reminding myself that it’s not Teddy’s fault that I have done monstrous things to him. Kidnapped him. Used him.Beddedhim. “Go on up to your room, Teddy. I have work to do, and I want to know you’re safe in bed.”
I watch him walk up the stairs before I make my way back to the dining room, where I look around the now-immaculate room. I roll up my sleeves impatiently as I wander around the table and pause by the seat at the head. My father used to sit here.
TonightIsat here. It felt right. But something within me now feelswrong.
I’m not even sure what it is. So Jacopo isn’t happy about my relationship with Teddy. So what?
I take a seat again as the reality hits me. “This isnota relationship,” I mutter under my breath. And I hear Jacopo’s voice, exactly what he would say if he could hear me now.
That’s your problem right there, Sandro. Not a relationship.
Howcouldit be? Even if that was what I wanted? Teddy is not here of his own free will.
I sit there for some time, elbows on the table, resting my head in my hands. I have too many things to worry about right now; why is Teddy the one that worries me the most? A murdered father, enemies trying to kill me, a Family to pull into line…
And all I can think about is that golden treasure lying asleep in his bed upstairs.
Only—as a soft noise makes me raise my head sharply—he’snotasleep in his bed upstairs.
Teddy has showered, based on his damp, slicked-back hair, and changed into the cream satin pajamas I ordered for him. They look so lovely on him. Is it so wrong of me to want to dress him, display that beauty to its best advantage?
“Alessandro?” His voice is quiet, but it’s the sweetest sound in the world nonetheless.
“I told you to go to bed.” There’s no heat behind my words, though there should be. I should never have let Teddy become so bold with me, so free. He walks toward me, his face troubled. “What is it,topolino?”
“I…” He tangles his fingers together in front of him, still half a room between us. “I think I might have said too much to Miller. I told him it was Julian who hurt me.”
I wave my hand. “It doesn’t matter.”
He comes closer, inching forward as though I won’t notice his approach. And I, because I am weak, let him come near.
