Chapter 4: When She Tempts: Chapter 4

We land on a tiny grass airstrip somewhere in Italy. There’s no airport—only a hangar, fields, and a few homes in the far distance, their windows flickering with orange light.

It’s been an hour since Giorgio confiscated my phone and my opinion of him has rapidly soured. He might be handsome, but he’s a jerk.

I’m raging.

Seriously, what’s his problem?

Who asked him for his opinion?

While the plane taxis down the runway, he takes out his phone and starts typing out a text, rubbing salt in the wound.

My fists clench.

I get the distinctive feeling Giorgio’s decided to make me his problem, and I don’t like it one bit. All I want is to be left alone. Where is the man I met by the pool who told me how bad he is, and how I should stay away? I thought I’d be living with version of him.

This version? He cares too much. Of course, I’m not saying he cares about . He doesn’t even know me. But Dem probably told him to keep a close eye on me or something along those lines, and Giorgio’s clearly taken the task to heart.

My desperation to get my phone back is making me nearly feral. I’ll get it back tomorrow. I to. The way I rely on that device should make me pause, but honestly, I don’t care enough to examine it. The itch has already returned, and I know it’ll just get worse. I need to be able to message Imogen. It’s how I stay sane.

I drag my hands over my face. No way I’m doing any of the other “activities” Giorgio proposed. They all sound exhausting. Really, just thinking about them makes me feel tired.

The plane rolls to a stop. Both Giorgio and I rise at the same time, and the space between our seats is so small that his sleeve brushes against my arm. He drops his heavy gaze to my face. “A half-hour drive, and we’ll be there.”

I curl my fist around his jacket and hand it to him. “I don’t need this anymore.”

He scans my body with a lazy flick of his eyes, then pushes the jacket back to me. “Yes, you do. It’s cold out here at night.”

“I said, I’m…”

He doesn’t listen, he just rounds the seat and moves toward the exit of the plane.

Angry fire licks up my insides. My teeth clench. I’m not sure what’s worse: feeling nothing the way I did this morning, or feeling like I want to strangle him in his sleep.

A car waits for us, the driver a gray-haired man with a potbelly and a thick mustache. His name is Tommaso, and he greets Giorgio with a two-handed handshake and me with a warm smile.

“Welcome back,” he says to Giorgio. “Sophia is going to be so happy to see you. She’s missed you a lot, Giorgio.”

My brows pinch together.

I thought he said it was just us and three members of staff.

A ghost of a smile passes over Giorgio’s lips. “I’m looking forward to seeing her too.”

Maybe it’s the maid, and everyone knows he’s sleeping with her.

Irritation scratches at my throat. Yep. I’d bet anything Sophia is the maid, and she has the extra duty of keeping his bed warm. Given we’re talking about Giorgio, I doubt she sees it as anything other than a benefit.

The wind plasters his white shirt to his muscular back while he talks to Tommaso, and even as annoyed as I am, the urge to check him out is impossible to resist. This man is built like a taller version of Michelangelo’s . So many ridges and valleys.

I sniff. Sophia is a lucky girl.

We get into the car, Giorgio taking the driver’s seat, Tommaso on his right, and me in the back. The road is only two lanes, and we don’t pass a single car on the journey. It’s too dark to make out much on the sides of the road, but I get the impression of a lot of fields and trees.

I’ve never been to Umbria, but I know it’s foodie heaven. In the forests of the region, truffles grow under the soil, and people forage for them using sniffing dogs. I used to get excited about things like that in the past, but my interest in cooking has dwindled ever since New York. I had a few bursts of inspiration in the beginning when Vale came to live with us, but after Lazaro’s latest attack, even those have stopped.

It is what it is.

I glance at Giorgio. He’s speaking quietly to Tommaso in Italian, and I can’t really make out what he’s saying from the back, but I swear I hear him say Sophia again.

Rolling my eyes, I look away.

The car turns onto a narrow dirt road that disappears inside dense woodland, and when the trees around us part again, I get my first glimpse at the castello.

The sight of it steals air out of my lungs.

It stands on a hill, the moon illuminating a tall medieval tower and a three-story building that’s surrounded by pines and lush oak trees. On the horizon behind it are layers upon layers of hills that protrude from the ground like enormous spines before melting into the night sky.

I roll down the window and suck in cool, woodsy air. Giorgio was right, it is chilly out here, but I keep his jacket folded across my lap. Not because I’m stubborn, but because I don’t want to get used to the smell of his cologne.

This crush of mine needs to die. At least it’s just physical. His personality can use a lot of work.

Sliding my hands under my thighs, I peer out the window just as we pull into a large courtyard. A motion-activated light flickers on.

There’s a lot to take in, but then Giorgio sees me yawn, and no matter how I protest, he insists on taking me inside.

“You need to rest,” he says gruffly, leading me through the enormous front door with his palm wrapped around my elbow. “You’ll have plenty of time to look around tomorrow.”

We pass through a large entry hall illuminated by a few wall sconces, before going up a spiral staircase made of creaky old wood. Giorgio walks past two doors before stopping in front of the third. As he turns the handle, he looks at me. “This is your room.”

The bedroom is large, far larger than the one I have back in Ibiza, but the furnishings make the space feel cozy. There’s a four-poster bed with a sheer canopy, a sitting area by the window, and a stone fireplace with a painting of the castello hanging above it.

It feels like I’ve been transported back in time.

“How old is this place?”

“Couple hundred years,” Giorgio says. “It’s been renovated many times, the last time was about thirty years ago. Most of the furniture is antique.”

I run my fingertips over the embroidered bedcover before I sit down on its edge. The mattress sinks slightly below me.

Giorgio points to the right. “Bathroom is through that door. The door beside it is the closet.”

“What about that one?” I ask, nodding at a third door on the other side of the room.

“That leads to my bedroom.”

A nervous laugh spills past my lips. “Is that a joke?”

“No.”

My eyes widen at the same time as something warm curls inside my belly. “Why are we staying in connected rooms?” Doesn’t that seem slightly…inappropriate? This is a big place. He didn’t choose to put me in this room because of space constraints.

The way he purses his lips tells me he thinks I’m making a big deal out of nothing. “It’s for your safety. In case anything happens, I’ll be close enough to intervene right away.”

“What could happen?” Does he honestly think someone would break into this room and kidnap me?

“Anything.”

“Why don’t you just give me a gun or something as insurance?”

“Do you even know how to use a gun?”

“Well, no,” I say, bristling.

“Then it’s either me sleeping next door to you, or a camera in your room.” His voice lowers. “Which do you prefer?”

A hot film of outrage and embarrassment sticks to my skin. “What are you going to do? Watch me while I sleep?”

“If that’s what I need to do to keep you safe.”

“What if I told you I sleep naked?”

A flash of surprise passes over Giorgio’s face, and then his eyes narrow. He drags his assessing gaze over my body, like he’s trying to imagine exactly what I might look like beneath my clothes.

My muscles freeze. All blood inside my body rushes to my face.

did I say that? By the time his gaze makes it back up to meet mine, I’m sure I’m bright crimson.

He drags his tongue over his upper teeth and slides his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “All jobs have their challenges.”

I deflate.

“And their perks.”

I’m sorry, I must have misheard him. There’s no way Giorgio just implied watching me sleeping naked would be a perk.

Before I can attempt to read his expression, he turns away from me and takes a few steps toward the door to his room.

I take my promise to your brother very seriously, Martina. It may take a few days, but you’ll get used to being here.”

“Uh-huh.” I drag my palms over my cheeks.

“Me being next door is a simple safety precaution, nothing more,” he says, his voice all cool professionalism.

I swallow, still flustered. “A safety precaution against who exactly?”

When he turns back to me, his eyes soften the tiniest little bit, and it finally clicks.

He doesn’t need to say it. The answer is in his gaze.

He thinks I might hurt myself.

A wave of unpleasant shivers runs down my back, and I dig my nails into my palms.

The backs of my eyes prick, but I won’t let him see me cry. “Anything else?”

“No. Get some rest. You’ll meet the rest of the staff tomorrow at breakfast.”

“Fine.”

When the lock of the door clicks behind him, I sink to the floor and press my palms against my eyes.

But without my phone, there’s no outlet for the muck swirling inside. There’s nothing to get me through the night.

I drop my palms on the floor and glance around. Everything is unfamiliar, and shadows flicker in the corners of the room. A chill drifts over my arms even though all the windows are closed. Straining my ears, I try to hear Giorgio on the other side of the wall, but besides a dull footstep or two, there’s nothing.

It’s a small relief. The last thing I want to hear tonight is him reuniting with Sophia.

Eventually, I get myself off the hardwood floor and drag myself to the bathroom. At the sink, I splash some water on my face and wipe off the little makeup I have on with a wet towel. That’s as much as I have the strength to do tonight. My four-step skin care routine will have to wait for a better day.

I slip on my pajamas, crawl into bed, and flick off the lights.

The castello is silent.

Sleeping in an unfamiliar bed is like pulling on a random glove and hoping it fits. I move my body until I find a comfortable position and drag the duvet up to my chin, inhaling the scent of clean laundry. Did Sophia make my bed this morning?

An image of a slim, beautiful, dark-haired woman in a sexy maid uniform appears inside my head.

Ugh.

I have enough things to torture myself with already.

I push the image away and let my body relax into the mattress.

Then I hear the floor creak.

The sound makes me sit up. It’s close, like it’s coming from somewhere inside my room, and I glance around, my eyes adjusted to the darkness by now.

Everything is still except for the shadows. They flit across the walls, swaying and twisting, and the longer I stare at them, the more I start to see.

Wolves chasing through the woods after a small, bleating sheep. An old house with a door that swings on its hinges until someone jerks it shut. A girl on her knees, crying with her back to me, until she whips her head around and shows me her face—a bullet between her brows.

I suck in a breath and squeeze my eyes shut.

An icy hand wraps around my heart. She didn’t want to go to New York. I made her come, and then I told the men who took us who she was because I was too dumb to keep my mouth shut. Things could have gone differently if I was just a little bit smarter.

Or a little bit braver.

And when Lazaro came for the second time, I could have tried to fight him off instead of waiting for Vale to save me once again. His hand was by my mouth. Why didn’t I bite him? Why didn’t I do anything but cry like a pathetic loser?

A sob catches in my throat, and I clamp my hand over my mouth. I don’t want Giorgio to hear me. I don’t want him to come storming in here and burden me with his worried eyes.

Out of habit, I reach under my pillow, looking for my phone, but it’s not there. There’s nothing to calm me, nothing to distract me from my thoughts.

Pulling up the duvet all the way to my nose, I tell myself to go to sleep, even as the room keeps creaking and shadows dance around me.