Page 8 of Damon

Seems the precious Princess is in for a rude awakening about how the real world works.

The house comes into view through the trees, modern architecture, designed to look like a tech millionaire's weekend retreat. Perfect cover.

Nobody expects a mafia safe house to have floor-to-ceiling windows and a fucking infinity pool.

"This is where you're keeping me?" she asks, confused. "It looks like... a vacation house."

"What'd you expect? A warehouse with chains on the walls?"

She turns to look at me for the first time since we got in the car. "Maybe."

"Sorry to disappoint. I don't do dungeons." I nod toward the house as Tommy pulls into the circular drive. "Three bedrooms, two baths, full kitchen, entertainment system. You'll be comfortable."

"Comfortable," she repeats, like the word doesn't make sense.

Tommy parks near the front entrance and kills the engine. "Want me to do a perimeter check?"

"Yeah, full sweep. Then head back to the city." I turn to Viviana. "Tommy will make sure we're protected out here. Standard procedure."

"For what?"

"Keeping you alive."

I get out of the SUV and walk around to her side, opening the door before she can lock it or do something equally pointless. She climbs out slowly, looking around like she's trying to memorize everything for when she makes her escape attempt.

Good luck with that.

The property is gated, the nearest road is miles away, and I've got motion sensors covering every approach. She could run, but she wouldn't get far.

"Inside," I order, placing my hand on the small of her back to guide her toward the front door.

She jerks away from my touch. "Don't touch me."

"Fine." I drop my hand but stay close enough to grab her if she bolts. "But move quickly."

The front door is heavy steel disguised to look like wood, with a biometric scanner hidden behind a fake doorbell. I press my thumb to it, and the locks disengage with a soft click. Viviana watches the whole process with wide eyes.

"Fancy security for a vacation house," she says.

"I like my privacy."

The interior is all clean lines and neutral colors, designed by an expensive decorator who charged me a fortune to make the place look "welcoming but sophisticated." Whatever the hell that means. All I cared about was that it didn't look like a bunker.

Viviana steps inside cautiously, taking in the open floor plan, the modern furniture, the massive flat screen mounted on the far wall. "This is really where you're holding me to keep me safe?”

"This is where you're staying until we figure out who wants your family dead." I close the door behind us and engage the security system. "House rules; don't try to leave, don't try to contact anyone, and don't do anything stupid."

"Define stupid."

"Anything that gets you killed."

She wraps her arms around herself, suddenly looking very young and very scared. Without the club lighting and the confident moves she was making on the dance floor, it's obvious she's barely eighteen. Still a kid, really, despite the curves and the attitude.

A sexy kid whose bodyguard died tonight because she wanted to go dancing.

"I want to call my father," she says.

"Already told you why that's not happening Don’t ask again."