He laughs. If Marcella has taught me anything, it’s that people who don’t want to be found aren’t. We looked into her. It became part of my obsession, and it turned up dead end after dead end, almost as if she didn’t exist. If someone is smart and has resources, they can evade almost anyone. But these people aren’t in the shadows. They’re right here, in everyone’s face, loud and obnoxious with zero fucks to give about any of it.
They were robbed. An untold amount of cash was taken. A priceless diamond—and possibly the tiara—was too, along with who knows what else. Yet these people don’t have a care in the world. Why?
“Tomorrow we speak to that neighbor. Not me, obviously, but you.”
He chuckles. “Yes, sir. I know the drill.”
“Why would people like this not have any home security? No door cameras, no alarm. They had a lock that was easily picked and a safe that was cracked. That’s all.”
“Arrogance, maybe.”
“Or perhaps they thought no one would be dumb enough to try to rob them.”
The princeof Messalina has to appear as though he’s on some holiday that wealthy playboy princes take. Even when insuburban France. With that, we’re staying fifty kilometers from the house at a luxury hotel. They’ve been annoyingly gracious and perfectly imperfect with their fastidious service. I want to be left alone. I want to be inconspicuous.
No such luck.
They’ve brought me champagne and chocolate-covered fruit and nuts and fucking mini cupcakes. Since we returned here for dinner, I’ve had three people knock on my door with various items. I’m gracious. I tip well. But fuck off!
I shoo the last person away, take a shower, then climb into bed. It doesn’t take a genius to know where my thoughts gather, and I don’t stop myself when I pick up my phone and press her number for a FaceTime.
The call is declined, and I swear to fucking God, that woman is getting the best spanking of her life when I get back.
I call her again. Then again. Finally on the fourth call, she picks up, but it’s not her face I see.
“Do you have the phone stuffed into your blanket?”
“My pillow. Why are you calling me?”
“Marcella,I don’t even know your fucking middle name, Russo, let me see your pretty face or I’ll have Althea come down to your room, and trust me when I tell you, my aunt does not like to be up past nine, and here we are close to ten.”
“I was sleeping.”
A pang of guilt hits me. “Were you?”
“Trying to.”
“I’m sorry. Let me see you, then I’ll let you go to sleep.”
The picture shifts, and she’s there, on her side in the dark. A smile hits my lips, and my finger glides along the screen.
Fuck, the way my chest clenches and my heart flutters. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she replies even as she works to hide her smile. “Why are you FaceTiming me on my work phone?”
“Because your piece of shit regular phone is so old it doesn’thave that capability. Come to think of it, I don’t know the number for it.”
I get an eye roll. “You know what I meant.”
“I didn’t want to go a whole day without seeing you.”
She releases a breath, her cheeks pinking up, but I don’t want her to withdraw, so I keep going.
“Tell me about the palace.”
She licks her lips. “Emily came home. She was in some pain, and everyone fussed over her.”
My fingers continue to run over the phone, tracing her face. “I’m positive she hated that.”
