Page 30

Glancing around the bedroom, I don’t see my clothes anywhere, but quickly remember how Enzo stripped me in the hallway last night. I steal one last glimpse of his peaceful sleeping face and make my way out of the bedroom.
Tiptoeing down the hallway, I spot my clothes scattered around and blush at the memory. My blush is quickly replaced by horror when a flash of red catches my attention.
There, right where Enzo pressed me up against the wall last night, is a coat of fresh red spray paint. I watch a single drip slowly slide down the wall and onto the shiny marble tiles.
I’m always watching, Enzo.
I scream—the type of blood-curdling scream you hear in horror movies. Enzo flies out of the bedroom and down the hall, sliding to a stop beside me.
We stand together, completely nude, staring at the large red letters.
“What the fuck…”
“They were here, Enzo,” I whisper, trying not to vomit. The nausea rises inside me, but I force it back down. “Watching us.”
My phone pings from somewhere in my pile of clothes, and I crouch down to find it. Desperately, I rifle through my pockets and finally pull it out—another message from a blocked number.
You too, Valentina.
CHAPTER TEN
Enzo
“Nowhere is safe,don’t you understand?” Valentina huffs at me across the kitchen island. “These people were in my house, in your house, in my car… Enzo, this is bigger than the mafia.”
“I don’t care,” I say, pacing the length of the kitchen in my bathrobe. I have been dreaming about this for so long that even the threat of The8 seems insignificant compared to her looking so delicious perched on the island in a matching robe, sipping her coffee.
We cleared the apartment earlier, making sure we were alone in here, and even then, I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
“The smartest thing to do would be to stay in the city,” she starts to reason, “so we can work together and figure out who the hell is behind this. Running won’t make a difference now.”
“Correction,” I say, stabbing a finger in her direction. “You run away; I figure this out.”
“Why the hell would I do that?”
“Because this is my job!”
“It’s my job, too!” she cries, hopping down from the stool and coming to circle her arms around my waist.
She presses her face against my chest, and all the frustration drains out of my bones. I stroke her head gently, debating what to do next.
“I know,” I finally admit. “I’m just worried about you… and Matilda. If anything was to happen to either of you, I don’t know what I’d do.”
“We’ll figure this out together,” she responds firmly, glancing up at me. “Anyway, it sounds like a jealous stalker or something… I mean, the lipstick, the messages. I don’t actually think any harm will come of this.”
“Why are you being so flippant about this all of a sudden?”
“Because it seems like a tantrum of a jealous woman,” she scoffs, studying her nails.
“You think getting into your completely locked-down compound without anyone noticing is just the work of a jealous ex?” I ask, the anger flaring up again. “I’d like to see what you think a professional mafia job would look like.”
“And you will,” she huffs, pushing away from me. “When I find this fucker, and destroy them, you’ll see how a professional handles it.”
“Are you saying I’m not being professional?” I ask, following her to the bedroom. She strips off her robe and starts throwing her clothes on haphazardly.
“Oh, run away, you delicate little female,” she mocks, imitating my voice. “You can’t handle the big bad baddie.”
“Lenny, that’s not what?—”