"Work faster."
The footsteps are right outside.
The door handle rattles.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
"Get in the vent!"
Isabella's voice is low and urgent and completely insane.
I look at her, then at the air vent above the dressing room, then back at her.
Fuck, no.
"You're joking," I whisper.
"Do I look like I'm joking?" She's already buttoning her jeans with shaking hands, her hair still a mess, her lips swollen from my mouth. "He's right outside. If he finds you in here we're both dead."
"Isabella—"
"Please." The word comes out desperate. "Please just get in the vent and I'll get him out of here."
Vittorio's voice comes again, closer now. "Isabella? Are you in the dressing rooms?"
I look at the vent, which is approximately two feet square and held on by screws I could probably break with my bare hands, and I feel my dignity preparing to die.
"This is ridiculous," I mutter, but I'm already climbing onto the bench.
"I know. I'm sorry. Just—" She reaches up and helps me push the vent cover aside. "Just stay quiet."
I pull myself up into the space above the ceiling, which is exactly as cramped and uncomfortable as it looks, and I'm a six-foot-two man folding myself into an area designed for air circulation and possibly small rodents.
Isabella slides the vent cover back into place just as the door handle rattles again.
"Isabella?"
"One second!" Her voice comes out bright and cheerful, nothing like the panic I just saw in her face. "I'm almost done!"
I hear her take a breath, smooth her hair, and then the door opens and I can see through the slats of the vent as she steps out.
Vittorio is standing there with a smile that makes me want to punch through the ceiling.
"There you are," he says. "I've been looking everywhere for you."
"Sorry. I was just—" She gestures vaguely at the dressing room. "Trying things on."
He looks past her into the empty room, taking in the scattered clothes, the scarf on the bench, and I watch his eyes narrow slightly.
"Where's your guard?"
"Enzo?" She sounds genuinely confused, which is impressive given that I'm currently above her head trying not to breathe too loudly. "He's around somewhere. Probably checking the perimeter or something. You know how he is."
"I do know how he is." Vittorio's voice has an edge to it. "Which is why I'm surprised he's not standing directly outside this dressing room."
"I told him I needed privacy."
"Privacy." He says the word like he's testing it. "In a closed mall. With no one else here."
