Page 95 of Salvatore

The house manager closes the fridge, her shoulders slumping as if she’s been dealt a mortal blow.

I breathe a laugh into my drink. “Don’t worry. She will be yours to dote over for the unforeseeable future.Lei è di grande importanza. Ti affido il compito di farla sentire benvenuta.”

“In English please,” Ivy pleads.

I eye her over the rim of my mug and take another mouthful. “I simply stated your well-being is of great importance.”

Catarina beams as if my admission is a proclamation of love. “Let me show you to one of the guest rooms.”

“No need.” I take a final gulp of caffeine and place my mug on the counter. “I’ll do it.” I retrieve my wallet from my pocket and a black card from inside. “You’ll need this.” I slide the credit card across the counter toward the older woman. “It isn’t safe for Ivy to leave the property, so you will have to go out and buy whatever she requires.”

“That would be my pleasure.” Catarina places my card in the pocket of her apron.

“Does that include a phone?” Ivy asks.

I watch her with slowly building annoyance. I’ve never been an impatient man, but having her constantly question my motives is wearing thin. “Did I stutter when I said Catarina will buy whatever you require?”

“Che maleducato,” the house manager chastises.

“So I’m allowed to call my friends?” Ivy continues undeterred.

“You can contact whoever you like.” I place my wallet back in my pocket and stride for the hall. “But if you prefer to remain alive I suggest you don’t tell anyone where you are. Not even those you trust. Phones can be tapped and messages intercepted.”

She follows as I lead her down the hall, past the bedroom I occupy when I’m in town, to the one right next door. “You can stay in here.” I reach inside and flick on the light. “There’s an adjoining bathroom that should be stocked with a newtoothbrush and essential toiletries to tide you over until Catarina makes it to the store.”

Ivy walks by me into the middle of the room and does a three-sixty visual of her surroundings. But it’s not the ornate dresser, leather wingback chair, or king-size bed that draws her attention. Her gaze is raised to the ceiling.

“There aren’t any cameras in your room.” Her fucking family have a lot to answer for. “You’ll be safe here. Text me once you get a cell.”

Her gaze cuts to mine. “Where will you be?”

“Back in Baltimore. I need to get going.”

“You’re leaving me?” Her eyes flare.

“Catarina will look after you.”

“And the guards?” Her voice hitches. “Will they tuck me in and read me a bedtime story before they smother me with a pillow?”

I sigh and enter the room, gliding my hands into my pants pockets to stop from doing something stupid like dragging her onto the bed and comforting her in the only way I know how. “Lorenzo’s guards only enter the house under threatening circumstances. If you see them inside, it means something is wrong.”

“And then what would I do?”

Nothing.

There’s nothing she could do while unarmed and defenseless.

“I don’t want to stay here, Salvatore.” She anxiously picks at the chipped black polish of her nails. “It’s a bad idea.”

And I don’t want to fucking leave, but we’re both going to have to deal. “There’s no safer place for you to hide.”

“I don’t feel safe.”

“You think a little old Italian woman is going to hurt you?”

“Maybe.” She lowers her voice. “If she finds out who I am.”

“I’m sure she already knows.” At least enough to understand the seriousness of the situation. “It’s a good sign that Catarina was excited to see you. It means Lorenzo told her you’re a welcomed guest.”

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