She looked as though she wasn’t sure if the conversation was over or not.
I went into the living room and found a bottle of wine, picked it up, and took it and two glasses back into the kitchen. Gia was sitting by then, silent, her gaze on me.
“Hope you like red.” After rinsing the glasses, I sat at the table, poured the wine, and started to eat.
Gia ate too, each of us silent, the clanking of forks and knives on the plates the only sound breaking the heavy silence.
“What now?” she asked when we’d finished. “I don’t want to hide.”
“I need to listen to those conversations. Where’s this library?”
“Philadelphia.”
“We’ll go tomorrow. Does Victor know about the recordings? Does he know that you know about them?”
“I don’t think he knows there’s a copy. I know he had a flash drive he destroyed. He’s dumb enough to think that’s the only copy. When he questioned me, he didn’t ask me outright about it, so I think Mateo told him I wasn’t involved and knew nothing.”
“Don’t underestimate him.” I didn’t think Victor was a stupid man. An asshole, but not stupid. Although arrogance tended to give one blinders. I’d learned that myself. Maybe his arrogance would get him caught.
After eating, Gia took the dishes to the sink and began to wash them. I watched her as I finished the wine. Neither of us spoke.
“I’m sleeping in Lucia’s room?” she asked once she’d finished and wiped her hands clean.
I nodded.
“Where are you sleeping?”
“Not in your bed. Don’t worry.”
She gave me a smirk. “I’m going up to bed, then.”
I watched her walk to the swinging door. “Gia,” I called once she’d opened it.
She turned.
“Don’t go anywhere else.”
“Like where do you think I would go?” she asked, a hand on her hip.
I crossed one leg over the other and smiled, tilted my chair, and balanced on its back legs. “Like don’t do anything stupid,” I said, mimicking her.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She turned on her heel and left the room. I laughed outright, knowing she would do exactly what I told her not to.
I followed Gia upstairs half an hour later and walked into Salvatore’s old bedroom. I had a shower then put on a fresh pair of briefs, opened the bedroom door a crack, pulled the cover off the bed, remade it with fresh sheets, and climbed in to wait. I hadn’t locked Gia’s door on purpose. I wanted to see what she’d do. She didn’t trust me, which was wise, but I still needed her, and letting her go out there on her own would only get her in trouble. She most likely didn’t believe that, but she didn’t knowthis world like I knew it. Victor wouldn’t just let her go. And if Roman was involved, he was not one to leave loose ends. Gia was most definitely a loose end.
I leaned my head back against the pillow and closed my eyes. I was tired and had just drifted off to sleep when I heard it: the whine of a door unused for too long opening. I blinked my eyes open and listened. She walked softly, but the house was old, and it creaked. A lot. I waited until she was on the stairs before throwing the covers back and getting out of bed. I didn’t bother pulling pants on and left the pistol on the bedside table. Instead, I crept out of the bedroom and watched her in the dark. She stumbled once, righted herself, and moved toward the front door. She picked up the keys to the SUV I’d stupidly left on the hallway table, and when I saw her punch in the code I’d used to get us inside—sneaky little thing; she’d been watching—I sprinted down the stairs.
Gia turned at the sudden noise, and that second was what I needed. I caught up to her by the time she’d stepped outside the door. Catching her around the middle, I almost fell on top of her as we stumbled forward.
“Never put anything past a woman with an agenda,” I said, hauling her back inside.
“Let me go!” she screamed. “You fucking asshole, let me go!”
She kicked and punched. I turned her, tossed her over my shoulder, and slapped her ass. The door banged shut behind us as I carried a fighting Gia up the stairs and into my bedroom, where I tossed her down on the bed. Looking at her flushed face, her hair splaying out on my pillow, her eyes wild with fury—wild like a feral cat—it made me fucking crazy.
She lay still for all of a second, then tried to push me off. I flattened a hand on her chest and shoved her backward, climbed on top of her, and with one knee between her legs, trapped one of her thighs between mine. I laid my weight on her, caught herwrists, and transferred them to one hand. I then lightly tapped her face twice with the other.
“Like I said before, you’re so fucking predictable.”
