Without knocking or giving a rat’s ass that Alessio’s on the phone, I rush into his office. I cock my hip, rest my hand on it, ready for the throwdown. “What’s going on?”
“We’re traveling to Paris.”
Life is so unfair. Paris. The city on my bucket list. I shake my head. “I can’t go to Paris.” Two months ago, if someone had told me they’d be taking me to Paris, I would have screamed in excitement. Now, all I want to scream is:We cannot leave this house!
Alessio’s eyes widen. I think I might’ve shrieked. Oh no. Did I? I’m so stressed out that my thoughts might’ve slipped past my mouth filter.
I dislike confrontation, but this man…oh, this man is infuriating. Still, I clear my throat so I don’t sound like a sick canary. “I’ve planned lectures for Leo, and we must stay here for those. All our supplies are here. We have art lessons this week.”
Alessio comes to lean his backside (his ass is as fabulous as the rest of him, by the way) on the desk. He spreads his legs and rolls his shoulders. “You’re saying you don’t want to go to Paris with me because you’re teaching my nephew art. Is that your argument?”
The excuse sounded pathetic even as I said it, but now that he’s confronting me about it, it sounds damn near stupid. I have nothing against Paris. God knows I would love to go there. And I can’t think of a single reason besides the real reason not to go there.
I can’t tell him that sadistic people who may’ve killed my uncle last night want me to deliver the gun from Alessio’s desk drawer, along with the name of a man he spoke to on the phone the other day. This man might very well be a father to a newborn baby, so now I have this newborn I don’t know about weighing on my conscience.
As if I needed to feel worse about spying on this family.
“I have no passport,” I say.
Holy crap, I’m a genius to have remembered that in a pinch. I lift my chin.Got ya, Lord Grump.
Alessio reaches into his pocket and produces a black leather pouch. He holds it out to me.
When I don’t accept it, he says, “Take it.”
“I’m afraid of what’s inside.” A letter of termination of my employment laced with anthrax?
“Nothing that will hurt you, I promise.”
The way he says this melts my heart, and the warmth in his eyes is unexpected. I’m not sure what he’s thinking or who he thinks I am, but the Lake who exists in his head isn’t me.
I’m cornered, and the people I care about are going to get hurt. One way or the other, someone will get hurt. The sadists want it to be Alessio. They want to inflict pain on the man responsible for the gun owner’s death. And if Alessio did do such a thing, he’s the man who would be held accountable.
Thing is, I don’t want to be the one who makes anyone pay their dues. I just want to eat good food, write about the nice places I’m experiencing, and laugh while in the company of people who are kind to me.
I want to be as far from trouble as possible. But I’m forced to accept the pouch he’s handing me with trembling hands.
Alessio traps my hand between his palms and tugs me to stand between his legs. The heat of his body, the size and sheer energy of him, makes me want to surrender. Not only all my secrets, but my body too.
“You can tell me anything, Lake. Anything at all. If someone hurt you, if they even looked at you wrong, I will deliver themtoevil. You can count on me.”
Should I tell him? Tell him!Tell him.Tell him everything. Do it now.
“All ready, sir,” Rosalba says quietly from behind me. I step away and turn to see her helping Leo with his backpack.
“I brought our atlas,” he says.
I teach with books and maps and not online. The Angelini family thinks children can learn from electronics later in their lives. The tactile nature of physical materials benefits intellectual development and assists in quicker learning and longer retention of the subject matter.
“Antonio is being tracked as we speak,” Alessio says, his voice low.
“What did he do?” I ask.
Alessio tilts his head. “When he called, you froze. I noticed and asked him if he touched you. He swore up and down he didn’t, but I wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth, so I asked him to come by the house. He hung up on me, rushed home from the hotel, and tried to escape the island. The men you called SWAT are tracking him.”
“Alessio, no.” I step back. “Antonio took me back to Luigis. That’s all he did. He made sure I arrived safely.”
Alessio assesses me. It’s unnerving to be the object of all his attention, and my heart starts to pound wildly in my ears.
