It’s horrible.
I… Ihatethis.
I hate Lazarus, too.
Except, I’m not sure if that’s true anymore. He’s nothing like I would have expected. The ruthless, cunning, intimidating mafia boss known for striking down his enemies and killing without compassion.
Yet he’s… he’s basically gentle with me. Harsh, too. Yet he hasn’t touched me in a way that’s made me feel unsafe.
And Johan is everything I find attractive in an alpha. Intelligent. Handsome.Kind.
Noah, I don’t know well enough yet. But he seems kind of goofy. In an adorable, sweet way. Something that’s probably insane to even think, given that he’s also clearly an assassin.
I shake my head, sending water all over the place.
This is all really confusing. And the shower isn’t helping.
Growling, I turn off the water, step out, and wrap myself up in the softest towel I’ve ever touched.
Everything about this place is opulent and lush. I know the Ferraro family has money. My own does, too.
But there’s something exquisitely decadent about this estate. Something masculine yet beautiful.
I’m not sure if that’s from Lazarus and his pack or if it’s related to his familial history.
Regardless, I like it. And I kind of hate that I like it. Because I feel like I’m betraying my Bianchi roots.
Sighing, I dry myself off, fix my hair, and then head out to grab some of my clothes from the drawer Noah unpacked for me.
Except… all I brought were lounging clothes, mostly to piss off my father. The Bianchi household has a strict dress-only policy for the women. Which is why I stuffed my bag full of sweats and oversized T-shirts.
Now I don’t really want to wear those.
WhyI don’t want to… is something I don’t want to consider at the moment.
So I ignore the impulse to analyze my mind and wander back into the bathroom to the attached closet space, curious as to what I’ll find there.
My eyebrow inches upward at the wide array of choices.
Pant suits. Dresses. Sweaters. Jeans. There are even some shorts and tank tops at the back.
I open some of the drawers of the dresser situated in the middle of the space, and my lips part.
Lingerie… and jewelry.
Having come from a life of wealth, I recognize real diamonds when I see them. And wow… “You have got to be shitting me.”
I’m about to go text Johan to demand that he tell me what woman occupied this space before me, but all of the glittering items still have their tags.
Tags that make my eyes bug out of my head. “Holy crap…” The collective value in this drawer alone is worth more than the money I stole from them. “This is insane.”
I go check all the hanging items, find that they’re some of my favorite brands—which are thankfully a lot less expensive than the jewelry brands—and all in my size.
These guys prepared this entire suite for me.
I… I don’t know how to feel about that. Spoiled? Lucky? Intimidated?
They tricked me and kidnapped me. I definitely shouldn’t feelflattered.
