“Aim it at me if—“
Bianca pulls back the slide and points the gun at my head.
Okay, then.
“I didn’t help Diana,” she says.
“I know. Better?” I nod toward the gun.
She lowers the Glock. “What are you making?”
I roll my lips and grab a mixing bowl for the mushrooms, peppers, and onions. “Pasta. I forgot to ask, are you allergic to shellfish?”
“No.” She angles her head for a better look. “It’s my first solo trip out of the country. I wasn’t expecting all of this.”
“How did you end up in Diana’s apartment?” I pick up a bowl with fresh shrimp and scallops to sauté next. Talking to her calms me.
Bianca crosses her legs, pulling me back to smooth thighs bearing the marks from my grip. “Some random housesitting website I found after quitting my job.”
“Seventeen years at Hamilton Capital and no vacation,” I say. “Some would call you a workaholic.”
“How do you know that?” The shake in her tone shifts my attention from the stove to her.
“I had my partner look into you,” I say with more care than I give to anyone’s feelings. “The one you called dickhead.”
Andrea finally came through with her background check. I spent the rest of the day in my office, learning everything about Bianca Harris. Where she was raised. What she studiedat university. Her desires. A fifty-page document doesn’t scratch the surface of who she is.
Her grip on the gun eases with her shoulders. I won’t admit I read her diary in case she gets trigger-happy. I only skimmed a few pages to better understand the woman in my kitchen whose company I don’t hate.
She clears her throat. “So now that we’ve established I’m not a threat, why can’t I leave? I won’t say anything. I just want to get back to my life.”
“To a life you were so eager to leave?” I eye her. “We both know that’s not true. I told you that you’ve seen too much. You also owe me, Trouble.”
I could buy four hundred more Lamborghinis—if that one were still in production—and not blink. Bianca’s “debt” isn’t an issue. I don’t want her to leave yet.
She sucks her teeth. “Where is Alfred and the rest of your staff?”
“His name isAlfonso. I gave him and my staff the night off. Before you try to climb down the balcony again, the property is on internal lockdown. There are no windows on this side of the house. If you make it outside, my surveillance drones will fire at any unauthorized person. For your safety, you cannot leave.”
“Drones?” Bianca reaches for the wineglass I hand her.
I pour myself a glass from the bottle I had Alfonso select from the cellar. “I reengineered them for my protection. I keep the drones for myself, but I do have a weapons supplier.”
“So you’re the plug.”
“A what?”
“Never mind. Is this local?” She swirls the wineglass in her hand.
“Yes, from my vineyard,” I say.
“You have drones and weapons, but you’re in the wine business?” Her tongue swipes over her bottom lip to lick off our signature red coating her mouth.
I adjust myself and check the food. “The vineyard is one of my businesses. I own restaurants. One here in Catania. The other is in Mazara del Vallo, with my seafood distribution center,” I say. “Andrea, my business partner, runs our manufacturing.”
Bianca huffs. “How do you have time for all of that? Human resources ran me ragged, and that was one job.”
I shrug. “Different interests keep my attention. I have capable managers to oversee the day-to-day of my businesses, which allows me to move between companies.”
