Page 45 of Kept

I look around the bathroom for the pile of discarded clothes I left earlier, though they seem to have vanished.

“Umm, about that dressing thing. Do you know where my clothes went?”

“Probably to be washed. Marie dropped some things off for you. They are in the closet.”

I laugh. “Of course she did. Who is this woman?”

Vincent smiles, warmth shining out from his dark eyes. “She basically makes the place run. Her mother worked here, so she grew up with Marco and I. Kind of like a stepsister.” He gives my towel another yank. “Clothes. Dinner. Now.”

I giggle when he playfully smacks my ass as I walk out of the bathroom.

The walk-in closet is massive. Naturally the majority of it is filled with neatly hung menswear, accessories, and I’m almost positive the giant safe in the back corner is made for guns. Because why not?

A small area has been cleared out, and a selection of women’s clothing is hanging there. Several drawers are left pulled open, and I see they are filled with underwear, loungewear, and pajamas. Shoes in their boxes are lined up neatly on a floor shelf. Everything is mysteriously in my size.

“What kind of clothes?” I yell over my shoulder.

“Whatever you like,” Vincent says from right behind me.

“Holy shit!” I shriek, clutching my chest. “Where did you come from?” I never heard him come into the room.

He laughs and makes a faux Dracula voice. “I fear you are underestimating the sneakiness.”

“I’m sorry, did the head of the mafia just quote an Adam Sandler movie at me?”

He shrugs. “What? We watch movies. In between the whacking and stuff.”

I roll my eyes and turn back to the clothes. I grab a luxuriously soft cable knit sweater in a light mauve color, and a pair of ankle-cut black trousers. There happens to be a pair of patent black flats with light pink trim and cute little golden bows on the tops that pair nicely. I start to rummage through the bra and underwear drawer before turning an accusatory eye at Vincent.

Holding up one of the many matched sets that include a barely-there thong, I say, “I’m sensing a theme here.”

He just shrugs and walks out of the closet, whistling innocently.

I finish dressing and return to the bathroom to comb out my hair. I notice a neat row of hair and skin care products, as well as makeup. The same makeup I wear. Naturally.

I finish pulling my hair into a half-up ponytail and lightly dust some make up on before joining Vincent. He extends an elbow as if he’s escorting me to a ball.

We walk through the confusing web of hallways before finding ourselves back at Lina’s cafe. The little tables have been replaced with a dining table set for two, and soft music drifts down. I realize a window is actually a TV screen, which is showing a clip of a busy European street, the pedestrians dressed for dinner and strolling down the brick and cobblestone sidewalks, lights from the street side cafe seating illuminating their faces. Some are smiling, and most are caught up in animated conversation with friends and family.

“Where is this?” I ask.

“Rome. It’s a livestream. Thought it might provide a little entertainment.”

“That’s so cool. I’ve never heard of that before.”

He just smirks.

“Oh, right, because you’re you.”

He pulls out my chair and gestures for me to sit. “Because I’m me.”

A waiter materializes and unfolds a crisp white napkin into my lap before filling our glasses with a white wine. A ridiculously good white wine.

“The chef is amazing. He can make anything you’d like, but I had to take a guess for tonight.”

“Well, you’ve been right so far.” I point at my wine.

The waiter reappears with help, and the two of them set out a small spread of grilled salmon and a colorful salad with a collection of dressings, from a creamy poppyseed to several vinaigrettes. A basket of bread, wrapped in a linen cloth, completes the display, the heavenly fresh-baked scent quickly filling the room. He places serving utensils in the dishes and empty plates in front of each of us. The wine glasses are topped off before the bottle is left nestled in an ice bucket at the side of the table.

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