Page 96 of The Right Garza
“Lexi.”
I’m being shaken awake. But I don’t want to wake up. He never sleeps for more than a few hours and I’mtired. So tired. Why can’t this man ever justrest?
“Lexi, darling.”
With a whiny grumble, I open my eyes. Stefano is bent before me by the side of the bed. He’s wearing the same white tee and lounge pants he’d changed into before we came to sleep. Not dressed to go in a suit like he normally is whenever he wakes me.
He turns his face from side to side, his lips tipping down at the corners. “Which side do you think is my good side?” he asks me. “I have always thought it was my right side…but now I’m not so sure.”
Yawning, I push up on my elbows. “What? Why?”
“Because I’m certain your boyfriend will punch me at some point, and I want to make sure he doesn’t catch my good side.”
“What?”
Sometimes talking to this man is like reading a pop-up book, no joke. A quick glance at the bedside clock tells me it’s 3:16 a.m. Not an unusual time for him to drag me down to Black Gold—if we weren’t already there. The man has no concept of time. He just does whatever, whenever.
“Right or left?” he prompts.
I roll my eyes. “Left.”
“Hmm,” he hums as he straightens, eying me with distrust. “Right it is.”
He disappears into his walk-in closet then reappears with an LV duffel and throws it at me. “Up. Pack. Cousin dearest is on the way.”
I jackknife up, my heart hammering in my chest. “Trent?He’s coming?”
Stefano throws a glance at me over his shoulder. “Oh, ye of little faith. Did I not tell you he would come through for us?”
Out of nowhere, I burst into tears. Up until this moment, I hadn’t realized how tightly I’d wound myself with a triple-braided cord of hope, fear, and resignation.
Up. Pack. Cousin dearest is on the way.
Eight little words and it feels as if a wrecking ball has been rolled off of my chest. Irrepressible tears spill from me like burst pipes.
Stefano jerks around and scowls. “Oh, come on now. You have made it this far without bawling and crawling. Don’t ruin your street cred with me now. Save the waterworks for the journey home.”
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip to stop it from trembling, then clamber out of bed and pad to the bathroom.
He’s right. Though I’ve feared in secret and silence, I’ve done my best to put on a brave face around him and his men. Now is not the time to break down. Trent’s imminent arrival doesn’t mean I’m in the clear. If there’s anything the last five days with Stefano Castello has taught me, it’s that he cannot be trusted. I’m going to need a clear head for this exchange, make sure to keep my focus on him at all times.
So, I freshen up at the vanity and slip on the face of fake courage I’ve been wearing the past few days.
When I return to the room, Stefano isn’t there. I stare at the duffel bag.Pack, he’d said. As if I’ve been here on vacation or something. But, by now, I’d like to believe I know him and his warped brain just a teensy, tiny bit; if I leave behind all the expensive garbs and jewelry he bought me, he’ll interpret it as an insult. So I pack them all, but get dressed in the blouse and jeans I was wearing when I got nabbed.
When I trek downstairs, I notice suited men stationed in corner of the house, armed and stoic.
On this floor, there’s a wall of French doors that open into a large and luxurious indoor pool area. That’s where I find Stefano and Lorenzo talking in hushed tones, while Stefano attaches a silencer to his gun.
Apprehension and anxiety stabs at me again.What the hell are they up to?
Stefano catches sight of me and the trepidation must be emblazoned on me because his hard expression softens a smidge. He gives me a single, sharp shake of his head, and somehow I understand what it means.Not for you.
If not for me, then who? Ellie? Slim? Trent?
Dear Savior, I’m begging you, please don’t let anyone die tonight.
For the next several minutes, I pace restlessly in the living room.
