His eyes narrowed instantly, scanning her face and dress, and then the hall, the shadows beyond. His gaze dropped to the stained carpet. “What’s wrong?”
“Someone…” Her breath hitched. “Someone broke into my room.”
“What?” His tone sharpened instantly.
“Yes!” Her voice rose. “When I got off the elevator and opened the door, he was just there. He pulled the door out of my hand and scared the life out of me. He slammed me into the wall and took off!”
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay,” she said, her voice steadier now. “I got him, though.”
Enzo frowned, a dangerous edge flashing in his eyes. “What do you mean, you ‘got him’?”
“I managed to scratch him. You should see marks on his cheek. I tried to hold his arm, but he shrugged me off and went down the stairs.”
“Did you call the front desk?”
“I did,” she bit out. “But I don’t think they believed me.”
Enzo’s jaw tightened, his expression darkening. In four strides, he crossed to the phone, yanked it up, and barked Italian into the receiver. The clipped, cold edge of his voice sent a shiverdown Kathleen’s spine. He paused, then said something sharper and hung up.
“They’re sending someone to check the stairwells,” he said. “Another team’s already reviewing the security footage.”
Kathleen rolled her eyes, frustration bubbling up with her fear. “Must be nice to be a man in this country.”
Enzo cut her a look. “They would have told you the same thing if you’d pushed.”
“I did push!” she snapped. “I was on the phone and they put me on fucking hold!” Even with her temper flaring, her hands were trembling. Her whole body was jittery, adrenaline still tearing through her system. Then something else clicked.
“It was the guy from the alley,” she said softly.
Enzo’s head whipped toward her. “Wait, what do you mean?”
“It was the man who stole my purse.”
Enzo’s expression hardened, eyes narrowing like a hawk’s. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. At least… I think so.” She rubbed her forehead, trying to steady her breath. “That was my first impression, that it was the same guy.”
“Then it was,” Enzo said flatly. “Always trust your first instincts on something like this. They’re usually right.”
She nodded once, the truth settling like a lead weight in her stomach. “Yeah… well, I’m pretty sure it was him.” Her gaze met his, her voice barely above a whisper. “What the hell does he want? He already has my purse.”
Enzo’s jaw flexed, his tone low and grim. “I don’t know. But that’s a good question.”
There was a sharp knock at the door. Enzo signaled her to stay still and went over to pull it open. A tall, lean man stepped inside, his suit perfectly pressed, his expression composed but serious.
“I am Alonzo Cavalli, head of security for the hotel.” He gave Kathleen a small, formal nod. “Signora Drake, I am so sorry for your difficulties. What can you tell us about what happened?”
Kathleen’s stomach churned. “Let’s sit,” she said, mainly because her knees were wobbly and felt like they could give out at any moment. When had she become such a scaredy cat? She’d spent much of her life in witness protection. How could this small incident unsettle her so much? Did old habits ever die?
Suddenly, she realized she’d missed what Cavalli had said as he was taking a seat on a chair across from her. “I’m sorry?” she said.
Cavalli gestured toward Enzo, who was now sitting beside her on the sofa. “Signore Valardi mentioned that the assailant pushed you into the wall, and I inquired as to whether you would like to see adottore.”
She waved him off. “No, I’m fine.” She glanced down at her dress. It had been one of her favorites. A green jersey dress that clung to her curves, matched her eyes, and highlighted her red hair. “Maybe, though, you could help with dry cleaning?”
“Of course,” Cavalli replied.
