His tone matches mine when he replies. “Then I’ll do my best to get you out of here as soon as possible.”
“Perfect,” I say tightly. “Until then, what do you suggest I do? Knit?”
His gaze doesn’t waver. “I’m going through Sienna’s things to donate. See if there’s anything you’d like to keep for yourself.”
Her name is a knife to the ribs. I can’t breathe.
The tears hit before I can stop them. I turn my back, pressing a trembling hand to my mouth.
“Elizabeth…”
“I’m fine,” I whisper, waving him off though my voice breaks. “I’ll go through her things. Just—please. Leave me alone.”
He hesitates, and I can feel the weight of his stare before the sound of his footsteps fades down the hall. Only when I’m sure he’s gone do I sink to my knees. I miss her so much, but all I have is her blanket, memories, and the hollow ache of being left behind.
I make a point of avoiding Lorenzo as I go through Sienna’s things. It feels easier that way. Simpler.
Every day, I shut myself in her old room and sort in silence. The quilt goes into the “keep” pile. So do the framed photos from our apartment. Photos of Sienna with her wild hair and reckless smile, me beside her looking unsure but happy. Everything else I tape up neatly, labeling the boxes for charity in my careful handwriting.
By the end of the week, the room is bare. Just walls and dust motes and the faintest trace of her perfume that no amount of cleaning can erase.
And me standing in the middle of it, feeling more lost than I did the night everything fell apart.
I finally make my way downstairs, needing the distraction of another human voice. The penthouse feels cavernous, all marble and silence and expensive emptiness.
Rosa is in the kitchen, humming softly as she polishes a glass. She looks up when she sees me, her kind eyes instantly softening.
“How are you, dear?”
“Good. Is Mr. Conti around?”
“Mr. Conti is out of town,” she says. “I believe he went to Kansas City.”
My pulse jumps, a sharp, involuntary rush.
Kansas City.
Maybe he’s following a lead. Maybe he’s finally doing what I’ve been begging him to. Finding out who did this. Maybe this will all finally beover.
I nod, trying to sound casual. “Did he say when he’d be back?”
“A few days, perhaps. He left very early.” She hesitates, glancing at me with something like sympathy. “He said you are to have free roam of the penthouse but you are not to leave.”
A humorless laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “Of course he doesn’t want me to leave.”
Rosa’s eyes flicker, but she wisely doesn’t say anything.
I move to the window, pressing a hand against the cold glass. The city stretches out below. So close I can almost taste it, and yet completely unreachable.
“Free roam,” I mutter under my breath. “How generous.”
The reflection in the glass looks back at me: pale, thinner than I remember, with eyes that have seen too much.
Sienna would have told me to run.
But there’s nowhere left to go.
I get a surprise that evening when the guards switch out. Most of them barely look at me. They keep their eyes forward and their mouths shut. But one of the new ones is different. He’s young, maybe my age, with dark eyes that crinkle when he smiles. And he does smile. Every time our paths cross, a quick flicker of warmth in this otherwise sterile place.
