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Jamie: Of course, go wild.

Elena: Will you need backup tomorrow?

Jamie: He won’t come to kill me.

Elena: He arrested you last time.

Jamie: It didn’t work last time. Not enough evidence to make it stick. This time, he’ll be more careful.

Elena: You sure you’re not thinking with your clit, doll?

Jamie: Keep the afternoon open, just in case.

I toss and turn all night.

Watch my favorite video of us. Satisfy myself. Fail to sleep.

In the morning, I’m tired and worn, but I’m ready.

The call comes early, while I’m sipping espresso at the café across the street.

Matteo has already put the pieces together. He’s working with the Italian police.

He found the note. The hotel room. Everything.

He’s on my trail now.

Which means he’s exactly where I want him.

Chapter

Six

MATTEO

Even though it’s four in the afternoon, Jamie is lying on her bed, eyes on the door, cool as a cucumber. As if I caught her mid nap. Or mid-seduction of her latest mark.

She looks impossibly relaxed splayed over the comforter, her pale pink robe falling off her shoulders, her long, elegant neck begging for my lips.

The second my eyes find hers, my breath hitches in my throat.

My body is still desperate to join hers. Taste her, touch her, kiss her, fuck her.

Anything.

Everything.

But I know better.

“Afternoon, baby,” she says, as if we’re still lovers. As if I’m blissfully unaware she’s playing me. “How was your flight?”

“Fine.” I try to give her nothing, but my eyes don’t cooperate. They go to her collarbones. They trace the line of her robe from her chest, down below her belly button.

Jamie ties the sash with an impossibly loose knot. She looks up at me with hunger in her eyes, like she’s about to beg me to touch her. “I was expecting you a few hours ago.”

“I stopped at Tommy’s flat,” I say.

“You wanted to see my note first? That’s sweet. I figured the Italian police’s version would do.” Even though we’re discussing murder, she stays sweet and loving, like she’s a house cat who left a dead man as a present for me.