A gun holstered at his side.
He brought afreaking guninto my studio.
I barely contained my panicked squeak. “I’m not a spy! I already told you. I was in the bedroom because I wasn’t feeling well.”
“We both know you shouldn’t have been there in the first place. Your last name is more than enough to keep you off the guest list.”
“Why don’t you ask Fabi?” It didn’t feel great, throwing her under the bus, but she was his future sister-in-law. Maybe he'd be more civil with her.
“To ask Fabi, I’d have to loop in her brother. You really want me to get Rafaele Messero involved in this too?”
I grimaced. No. No, I absolutely did not. One mobster was more than enough.
WhyhadI shown up last night? I could’ve waited. Reached out to Fabi after the party.
But that would’ve meant sitting with the possibility that I’d hurt someone—and I wasterribleat that.
As a result, I was in this mess.
Maybe it was better to just tell Romolo the truth.
“All right.” I exhaled. “If I tell you, will you promise to leave?”
He chuckled, as if he was amused at my attempt to negotiate with him. “Deal.”
I didn’t trust him. He didn’t strike me as a man of his word. Not at all. But what choice did I have?
“Fabi and I went to boarding school together. She used a different last name. I didn’t know she was a Messero until last night. She didn’t invite me to the party, I just showed up, and then… Well, then I found out why I wasn’t invited.”
KNOCK KNOCK.
I shot to my feet, nearly tripping over my chair.
Romolo twisted, looking over his shoulder. “Your appointment?”
Panic clawed its way up my chest. I doubted my no-show client would appear this late, which meant it could be anyone. The glass on the door was frosted, but the window beside it wasn’t. Whoever was out there would look through the clear glass in seconds if I didn’t open up. That’s what everyone did.
What if it was Jenny? Or someone else from my dad’s staff?
They couldn’t see Romolo here.
Our eyes locked.
I grabbed the curtain that separated the changing area from the front of the studio and yanked it aside. “Go. To the back.”
It wasn’t an order. It was basically a plea.
To my relief, he rose out of his seat. He brushed past me, his arm grazing mine for the briefest moment before he ducked under the curtain.
I let it fall back into place and hurried to the door, praying—praying—that I could quickly get rid of whoever it was.
CHAPTER7
MIA
The face that appeared in the window belonged to Kassandra Proctor.
I’d never been so relieved to see her.
