I glance at Emmanuel, who’s already spreading out his toys on the floor. Seemingly comfortable in his own space.
“Come,” Basili insists. This time it’s definitely a command.
Hesitantly, I follow him out of Emmanuel’s room, down the hallway a short way to another door. This one is white with a black swirl mark close to a fleur de leis on it. With a hand on the door, he hesitates, then opens it and motions for me to proceed inside.
“This will be yours for the duration of your stay,” Basili says behind me. “It’s close enough to Emmanuel for you to be present, yet far enough to provide you with your own space. Mrs. Rossi will make sure you have everything you need.”
The room is beautiful — elegant yet comfortable, with a large bed, an ensuite bathroom, and a sitting area by the window overlooking a rose garden. It’s decorated in creams with black accenting, classically expensive, yet peaceful.
“Dinner will be in thirty minutes. Someone will come get you to show you to the dining room. There should be at least a few items in the closet that will fit you. If you need additional, more suitable clothes while you’re here, I’ll send a valet to fetch some.”
He moves toward the door, clearly taking his leave. But then he pauses, his hand on the doorframe, and turns back to face me. The softness that showed through in Emmanuel’s room is completely gone now. His expression is hard and unyielding now, every inch the mafia Don that I have no doubt many feared.
“One more thing, Chloe.”
I wait, all the while holding my breath. That warm feeling from seeing the castle is extinguished as the hairs on my neck stand up in anticipation.
“You are not to leave this property. Not without my direct permission. And certainly not with Emmanuel without me accompanying you personally. Is that clear?”
It was clear, — clear that I had just become the closest thing to a prisoner that someone who volunteered to be here could be.
“Excuse me?” Is the only response I can muster.
“You heard me.” His tone is matter-of-fact, unarresting. “For the next month, you stay here. Within these walls. I can’t protect you if I don’t know where you are or what you’re doing. And I will not have you compromising Emmanuel’s safety.”
The warmth evaporates completely, replaced instead by ice-cold fury.
“I’m not your prisoner.”
“You’re not a prisoner. You’re a guest who happens to be restricted to the property for the foreseeable future.” He says it so flippantly, so reasonably, that I want to scream at him. “The property is large. There’s plenty of space for you to wander within the walls.”
“A gilded cage is still a cage,” I protest.
“Those are the terms. You’re free to leave at any time,” he starts to close the door. “But should you leave, don’t ever plan to come back.”
And then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him. I stand in the middle of the beautiful, spacious room with my mouth slightly dropped open, feeling the walls close in on me.
One month. I just have to survive one month in this place.
Chapter Seven
Chloe
“Your shadow has arrived.”
I look up from the book I’m reading in the sitting room attached to Emmanuel’s room to find Raffaello leaning against the doorframe. His massive arms crossed over his chest, and his lips slightly upturned as he watches me.
He’s dressed more casually today than he was when they stormed the orphanage — dark jeans, a fitted black t-shirt that shows off every lean muscle. His tattoos, visible on his forearms.
“My what?”
“Shadow. Bodyguard. Babysitter. Whatever you want to call it.” He pushes off the doorframe and moves further into the room with a sort of easy confidence. “Boss’s orders. I’m yours for the foreseeable future.”
My stomach drops. “You’re joking. Right?”
“Do I look like someone who jokes?”
No, he doesn’t. He looks perfectly serious, and more than a little amused by my obvious discomfort with his announcement.
