Page 74 of Savage King

I can't… if I bring her stuff, she'll know I was here. She'll know I saw them…

Fine, don't bring her stuff.

It's tempting. Very, very tempting. With a groan, I grab the damn pills and throw them in the bag with all the other stuff. For good measure, I check her medicine cabinet. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised by anything, but there's nothing there. Well, nothing she might need.

My feet get tangled in her bathrobe, which lies on the ground in a heap of discarded clothing. She went out with her friends that night. My lips curl because this looks exactly like the aftermath I would expect from a woman once she's done with her makeup and clothing.

The hours pass by incredibly slowly.I should ask Antonio if he could pick up some of my books. This is driving me crazy. The laptop he brought me on my first day to go shopping is gone, and I'm not sure if I should go in search of it or not. I decide I'll talk to him first, then I can decide if I want to go snooping around.

I was hoping Gigi would come by, but I haven't seen or heard from her. I even went into the kitchen, but only a man—the cook, I assume—was there. Again, the idea of snooping entered my mind, but there are so many rooms in this house that Gigi could be anywhere. Neither was I in the mood to walk in on her and Vito if that's what she was up to.

Finally, the door to the bedroom opens. "Ready?" Antonio asks with a mischievous smirk that makes him look all the more attractive.

"Ready for…" I fish.

"Shopping. I promised I'd take you shopping." He reminds me. "Don't tell me you forgot? You'd be the first woman in history who would forget a promised shopping spree."

Actually, I did.

"But where? You said I can't?—"

He doesn't let me finish. "Let me worry about that. Come on."

He holds out his hand, and I rush forward, eagerly tilting up my head for a kiss. He doesn't disappoint.

With a groan, he pushes me from him. "Evil temptress, come on, before I change my mind."

I giggle, and we walk down the hall and the stairs. A trio of large black SUVs wait for us outside. Antonio leads me to the one in the middle. "What's with all these cars?"

"Protection," he says, waiting for me to get in.

Further down, I see Gigi's red Mercedes. So she is here. With a smirk, I wonder if she is just a really late sleeper or if she and Vito found a spot where they could do whatever it is they do.

I don't think too much about it, though, because I'm still confused as to where Antonio is taking me. He's busy typing on his phone, and I don't want to disturb whatever mafia plans he's working on. So I look out the window, trying to figure out where we actually are. I could just ask him, but this is a lot more fun.

After a while, I narrow our location down to three places: Greenwood Lake or Lake George in New York, or Upper Greenwood Lake in New Jersey.

After about twenty minutes of driving, the forest retreats, making way for the first houses and a small city. Warwick, a sign announces. So we are still in New York, then.

When we turn into a more industrious-looking part, a nervous energy rises in me. With the warehouses coming in sight, this looks very much like the place where I had been taken, where Antonio rescued me.

Any worry, however, is dispelled the moment I look at him. He looks up from his phone, smiling at me. Wherever he's taking me, it's going to be safe—nothing like where Carlos's goons took me.

The driver parks the car in front of a building that looks just like all the others, while the other two SUVs pull in with us.

Like a gentleman, Antonio walks around the car and opens the door for me. Taking my hand to help me out, he leads me to an already open door. The warehouse is huge and mostly empty. However, one corner is filled with racks and industrial shelving, holding clothing, shoes, purses, and anything else a person without belongings might need.

He leads me to the racks.

"No price tags." He smirks, referring to my hang-up about buying clothes from the online sites he had suggested.

"What is this?" I ask, incredulous.

"I had some clothes and stuff brought in for you. You may pick whatever you like. I had them take off the price tags, so you won't get distracted," he adds with a lopsided grin.

My fingers brush over the soft material of a pair of pants, then a skirt. I look up at him, still somewhat in disbelief. "You had everything brought here?"

He nods. "It's not like we can go into a store right now, and you seemed reluctant to order online, so," he shrugs as if bringing in the inventory of an entire chain of high-end clothing lines is the most normal thing in the world.

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