Page 20 of Where Wild Hearts Dance
He coughs. “I…er… don’t think that will be necessary.”
He strikes a line through the total and hands me the pen. I scribble down the new lease amount and sign.
A base kicks in beneath our feet and a male voice barks out instructions somewhere below.
My lip curls in amusement at the thought of Contessa Castellano, the girl who can’t seem to stand the sight of me, discovering I’ve just leased the office above her studio.
“I’ll be in first thing tomorrow,” I say as I walk past the realtor, dismissing him. “Make sure it’s clean.”
Contessa
“Do you promise?” I repeat.
Trilby rolls her eyes in the phone screen. “Ipromise. Benito Bernadi won’t be here. I swear.”
I see more of Trilby now she’s moved in with Cristiano than I ever did when she lived at home. It’s probably because Sera has moved to the Hamptons and Bambi’s still a little too young to be flitting between the two properties. Still, I’m not complaining. Since Federico left, it’s nice to have at least one other person besides Allegra to talk to. It helps, too, that we’re a part of the same world. The girls at my dance class have no connection at all to New York’s underworld. I wish that I didn’t, but now that Trilby’s engaged to the don of the city’s biggest crime family, I don’t really have a say.
“You know, you said thislast time and the guy was perched on a stool in the kitchen like it was his second home.”
“I wasn’t expecting him that day, and neither was Cristiano. But, this is kind of their second home. Those guys are always coming and going. You know how it is.”
No, I don’t actually. But it didn’t take long for Trilby to get the mafia-shaped memo. I always knew she was cut out for more than art school; I just hadn’t expected her to become prime crime wife material. But, as itchy and uneasy as it makes me, the life seems to suit her. I suppose having an unrealistically handsome and unfeasibly powerful man for a fiancé oils the wheels a little, as it were.
“So you can’t swear he won’t be there, can you?” I challenge.
She purses her lips then lets out a sigh. “I can because I know where he’s going to be instead.”
“And where’s that?”
She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “You don’t want to know, Tess. And I’m not going to put you in any danger by telling you. Just believe me when I say Benny is going to be otherwise engaged this evening, okay?”
Benny. That name makes me want to puke more than Benito or Bernadi.
“Fine,” I say, straightening my shoulders. Then I grin. “I’ll be there in twenty.”
A few hours later, I’m lying on a sun lounger staring up at the stars, feeling pleasantly tipsy. Trilby has gone to refill our glasses when I decide I need to pee.
Instead of going through the house I take the garden route to the restroom. After relieving myself I decide to walk back through the property in search of Trilby. The kitchen is deserted but some plates of food have been laid out, presumably for me and my sister, and possibly Cristiano, because there’s no one else here.
I help myself to a bruschetta and carry it through the kitchen. Just as I’m about to pass into the hallway I hear hushed voices. Hushedmalevoices. I pause and peer through a gap in a door. It’s a room I haven’t seen before. Some sort of laundry room filled with closets and cleaning equipment.
I recognize one of the voices as Cristiano’s but I can’t make out what he’s saying, then a shadow leans over a faucet, releasing a shard of light from the window. It shines over the man as he washes his hands, illuminating them.
Quiet, commanding voices utter vindictive words.
Glistening red water runs onto porcelain.
Then a head turns.
Bronze eyes. Heated gaze.Unaffected.
I spin away and walk as quickly as I can back to the terrace.
Trilby is standing over my lounger, a frown buttoning her brows together. “Where did you go?”
Um, hell?
“The restroom,” I say, gathering up my things.
