Page 139 of Keeping Kasey
I shrug. “I’d rather keep you close.”
She ignores me and leads the way to our rooms.
I strategically put myself in the room closer to the elevator. I’m not worried about her trying to run, but if something were to happen, I’d rather be closer to the threat.
We stop at our respective doors.
“We’ll meet here at seven tomorrow. Come get me if you need anything,” I tell her.
Kasey slides the key in the lock, flips me off, then slams the door behind her.
I give up on sleep at five in the morning.
Replaying the entirety of four months isn’t the most efficient use of my time, but it’s all my brain was willing to do last night.
I’m careful to only consider the facts as they are and nothing else.
No feelings. No regrets. No what-ifs.
I mentally retrace each of our steps. Her actions—while I may disagree with them—fit the circumstances and the logic I’d expect Kasey to follow based on what I know about her.
And that’s as much of a conclusion as I draw before my brain repeats the drill.
My father ensured that I was capable of operating on minimal sleep, so one night without won’t have much effect, especially after a cup of coffee.
I have two hours before I told Kasey we’d be leaving, and I’m itching to use the hotel gym to work off the restlessness, but I can’t. Without soldiers to keep an eye on her room, I won’t be going anywhere.
I spend the time reviewing emails, which I tried and failed to do on the flight home. All I could do was watch Kasey look out the window.
I answer my phone when it rings, needing anything to occupy my mind.
It’s too late when I see the caller ID and realize I should’ve let it go to voicemail.
“Consoli.”
The sweet, feminine voice is gentle—as soothing as a lullaby. “Good morning, Mr. Consoli. How are you?”
I take a deep breath and force myself to remember she’s only doing what she was raised to do.
“I’m fine, Isabella. Can I help you with something?”
I have to give her credit for not wavering despite my apparent lack of interest.
“What time should my father expect you tomorrow? He’d like the other family bosses to be ready for your arrival.”
Tomorrow?
The opening of a hospital wing dedicated to Giovanni Romano.
I completely forgot.
“Since when do you handle your father’s correspondence?”
“Since it’s an excuse to call you,” she says, balancing the coy and confidence with perfect ease.
“Unfortunately, I’m not sure I can make it after all. James meant to reach out yesterday. Some urgent family business came up that requires my full attention.”
“Oh, well, that’s okay,” she says, perfectly sympathetic. “The family comes first.”
