Page 287 of Rosetti Family New York
The burner phone on the counter buzzes with a text from Connor Callahan:Meeting pushed to 9. Be ready.
My stomach tightens. More time to prepare, but also more time to think. More time to doubt. I text back a simple acknowledgment and put the phone down.
In the living room, I check for surveillance devices, even though I swept the penthouse thoroughly yesterday after the jasmine incident. I look towards the ceiling corner where a tiny camera would probably be hidden, even though I failed to find one. Is he watching now? Has he already sneaked past building security to set up his own surveillance? The thought makes my heart race, skin tingling with awareness. This invasion of privacy is disgusting, this electronic stalking. Yet, I find myself standing taller, moving more deliberately, a performer aware of her audience.
I head to the bedroom and open the closet, thinking about what to wear for tonight's meeting. Connor Callahan might be a psychopath, but he's a predictable one—he reacts to power, confidence, and hints of skin.
And Emilio? He reacts to something else entirely. The thought comes to me before I can stop it, reckless and dangerous. What if I gave him something to watch? More than just security footage and metadata? Something to remind him of what he lost when I left?
A warmth spreads through me at the idea, followed by cold fear. This is dangerous ground, mixing professional manipulation with personal desire. I should forget the idea completely. Somehow, I’m reaching for the black dress with the slit up the thigh, the one that falls off one shoulder, revealing the freckles Emilio used to trace with his fingers in the dark. I lay it on the bed and then head to the bathroom to shower.
Under the hot water, I close my eyes, trying to focus on tonight's goals. I need to convince Chase and Connor that I'm not funneling information to the Rosettis. I need to make sure they still need me alive. And most of all, I need to make sure theykeep up their side of the bargain, the whole reason I'm doing this. Nothing is more important than that.
Yet my thoughts keep returning to the burden of Emilio's watchful eyes. I have a growing sense that wherever I go, whatever I do, he's observing. The water splashes against my skin. Standing here, naked and exposed with steam swirling around me, the reality hits hard: I've never truly been in control. Not really. He's always been better at this than me, always one step ahead, even when he seemed behind.
I step out of the shower, wrapping myself in a soft towel. As I wipe condensation from the mirror, I find myself looking at the corners of the bathroom, searching for the glint of a camera lens. Is he here? Has he already invaded this space? Hidden cameras where even I can't find them? The thought makes me shiver despite the steamy room.
Back in the bedroom, I let the towel fall and stand before the full-length mirror, examining myself without emotion. Time has changed and toughened me. New scars tell of experiences Emilio knows nothing about, a thin white line along my ribs from Zurich, a small scar near my shoulder from Paris. Marks from battles he can't understand, fighting unseen enemies.
I dress slowly, skipping underwear, sending a silent message to Emilio if he's watching. See what you've lost. See what you can't have. The black dress hugs my body, revealing and hiding at the same time. Suitable for a business meeting, yet provocative enough to distract. I apply makeup carefully, darkening my eyes, painting my lips a deep red that I never wore with him. Another change, another layer of protection.
I style my hair, missing its length for a moment before appreciating how the bob frames my face, making me look sharper, more dangerous. Good. I need to be dangerous tonight.
I check my watch. Still an hour before I need to go. Time stretches out, empty but full of possibilities.
My eyes wander to the security pad by the door, controlling the penthouse's electronic systems, including the cameras.
The idea forming in my mind is reckless, foolish. Utterly impossible. But…
I find myself approaching the control panel, fingers tapping the touchscreen as I access the penthouse's security system. I find the interior cameras, installed by building management as a "security feature" for the wealthy tenants, but really a surveillance tool for those with the right access. Like Emilio. The one set of cameras I know for sure exist.
I don't turn them off. Instead, I make sure they're working, running a quick check that would alert anyone monitoring them. A digital hello. A deliberate invitation.
My heart races as I go back to the bedroom, checking my reflection one last time. The woman looking back at me seems confident and in control. Only I know the trembling underneath, the fear and anticipation battling in my chest.
If Emilio is watching, I'm about to give him a show he won't forget. Something to punish him for watching me. To make him feel as bad as I do.
I move to the center of the room where the camera in the smoke detector has the best view. Slowly, I slip the dress off one shoulder, revealing the constellation of freckles he used to kiss. My fingers trace the pattern, remembering how his lips felt against my skin, the way he'd whisper Italian phrases only I could hear.
"I know you're watching," I say softly, eyes focused on where the camera should be. "You never could help yourself, could you?"
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I look over and see a message from an encrypted number.
I see you.
The confirmation sends heat spiraling through my belly. He's not just watching, he's responding. Acknowledging the game.
The phone buzzes again before I can fully process the first message.
Take the dress off. Slowly.
My breath catches. This isn't what I expected, him taking charge so quickly, switching our roles in this risky game. I should ignore it, pretend I'm the one in control here. Instead, my fingers move to my shoulder, sliding the dress down bit by bit. I feel his gaze like a touch, heat spreading across my skin as I reveal myself to his digital eye.
Turn around. Let me see all of you.
I turn slowly, the dress still clinging to my hips. His message gives me a jolt, the Ghost giving orders from his digital throne, expecting me to obey. And for reasons I can't quite understand, I am following.
All of it, Mara. Now.
