“It’s an instruction.”
“From him,” I say. Not a question.
A pause.
“Yes.”
I take a step closer. Not invading his space, just enough to exist inside his peripheral vision. I smell soap and coffee.
“You’re very quiet. Does that come naturally, or did someone break you in properly?”
His jaw tightens. “Please don’t.”
That’s when I know. Not from the words. From the fact that he doesn’t look at me when he says them.
“Don’t what?” I ask, softer now.
He exhales through his nose. “Don’t make this difficult.”
I smile.
“Oh,” I say. “I’m excellent at difficult.”
A sound echoes behind us. Boots. Slow and measured.Shit.
I’m not sure how it’s possible, but the air feels like it shifts.
I don’t have to turn to know who’s there.
Lorenzo’s presence fills the space like gravity, bending everything toward him whether it wants to or not.
“Victoria.”
My name lands low. I haven’t seen him yet today, and somehow my very existence has already irritated him.
I glance over my shoulder.
He stands at the far end of the hall, dark shirt open at the collar, sleeves shoved up like he’s been scrubbing something off his hands.
His gaze cuts to the man beside me first, then back to me.
It’s sharp and makes a shiver run down my spine. “Go upstairs, Little Bird.”
That damn name again. All those years ago, it was endearing, but now, in my current predicament, it feels like a chain tethered to me, reminding me I can’t escape.
I look back at the guard and then at Lorenzo. “No.”
The word is quiet, but it’s clear enough to show him I won’t back down.
His jaw tightens. “That wasn’t an invitation.”
I step closer to the guard instead, close enough that I can see the pulse jumping at the poor guy’s throat.
“Hi, Nico.” I smile at him.
There is no question that I’m playing with fire. But sometimes it’s fun to get burned.
The guard’s eyes narrow. “Mrs. Amante.”
