The tiniest smile curls the whiskers above his lip. “Lunch will be ready shortly,” he says, his baritone softer. “Sir Bennici had your belongings transported from Napoli. Please let me know if there’s anything else you need.”
“Can I look around?” I drag my fingers across the old writing desk next to the balcony doors. A small lamp sits across from a computer, a pen, and a stack of papers.
“You’re free to roam the premises, though you may get lost venturing beyond the grove. The property sits on four hectares, a little under ten acres.” He pauses. “Sir Bennici advised we provide a laptop and writing materials in every guest room for your planning.”
“Planning?”
“Your consulting business.”
He gives me a slight bow and leaves. I want to laugh at the formality, but I hold it in. I’m not Dame Judi Dench.
A warm breeze skates through the bougainvillea into my new bedroom. Papers flutter under my fingertips. Benny is still on my shit list, but this is nice.
The sun fades to moonlight over white walls and worn wood. Just me, the shadows cast around my desk lamp, and a glass of red wine I uncorked before Alfred left for the evening.
Alone again.
I set my pen down. The papers containing the first part of my business plan for working with a crime boss weren’t anywhere on my vision board, but one million euros would do more than get my consultancy off the ground. It will let it fly. As long as I’m not complicit in harming babies or cats, I’ll sleep just fine.
“Enough business for tonight.”
I grab my glass to roam the rest of the house. There’s one room pulling me to find it.
Wall sconces spread through the empty hall. I veer right toward a separate area from my bedroom. A paneled door is next to an accent table with a fresh bouquet of red roses. Locked. I pass three empty bedrooms to reach double doors.
Benny’s room.
Citrus and spice thicken the air. I should turn back, but curiosity tugs me through the door.
He might surprise you.
Stone walls the color of sand reach for a ceiling ribbed with wooden beams. There’s no mirror hovering over the bed. Only a suspended wrought-iron chandelier. Off-white sheets fall lazily over the mattress, soaked in moonlight from an arched doorway next to a fireplace.
On the other side of the knotted hardwood is a closet of suits, blazers, and pants between built-in shelves holding shoes and accessories. A small frame catches my eye. The picture is old, dull around the edges, but the love is bright. A young Benny stands between a couple with the biggest smiles. His complexion matches the woman grinning from ear to ear. Her silky strands reach her shoulders, her face serving full Salli Richardson. She’s hugging the man next to her with coiled Black hair and caramel skin.
His family.
Life forced him to become who he is.
I drain my wineglass. “What happened?”
Asking too many questions leads to the bottom of the ocean, or worse, feelings. Caring for my kidnapper is not part of the program.
Back in my room, I refill my glass with a dildo in hand and zero thoughts about the man I want to ignore.
Chapter 26
Late-Night Snack
Bianca
Sniff.
Sniff.
Sniff.
I pop an eye open and groan. The purple G-spot stimulator did not disappoint. My climax hit like a Mack truck. I convulsed, toes curled in these fine linen sheets, and fell into a deep sleep.
