Page 31 of Disarming Caine
A spluttering laugh escaped my lips, snapping me out of my mood. “Seriously, though, Antonio would never hurt me. He spent this whole incident trying to protect me.”
“Trying to?”
I gave an innocent shrug.
She frowned and cocked an eyebrow. “You were jumping into the line of fire?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Stubborn as always.” She gave me one last squeeze and stood. “Alright, I’ll trust you. But if he lays a hand on you, my door’s open.”
“Thanks.”
“After you kick his ass, that is.” With a wink, she swung open the door to holler at Jimmy. She apparently had a reputation to uphold, as well. “Slater! I need to go. Come and finish Sam’s statement.”
Chapter 12
Antonio
Thedrivetomybuilding was a quiet one. I stared out the window, unsure what I could say to Samantha, while she fumed. Likely over my fight with Miller. But she was coming home with me, and I could make it up to her. How, though?
The focus and calm inside her through the ordeal would have impressed me, were it not for the risks she took.
“Welcome home.” Her voice cracked as she pulled her truck into a parking space, not looking at me. “Can you gimme a minute to call Cass? She should hear it from me before she sees it on social.”
“Sì.” I grabbed my duffel from the back and slid out, making my way to the front door with its glass awning. The building was red brick, ten stories high, tall for Brenton. I looked up as I walked, to my penthouse with its reflective windows. We should have come here instead of going to her hotel. This building was the safest in town.
When I arrived at the door, I turned. She remained in the truck, hand over her face, rubbing up and down. There were enough lights around the parking lot, I could see her put her phone to her ear. She was agitated, her free hand flailing, then returning to her face. She nodded, shook her head, leaned toward the center console and sat up again. Five minutes I stood there, waiting, until she hung up, leaned over again, punched the steering wheel, and let her head fall forward onto it.
Everything I’d said since the shooting was wrong. She had to give me a chance to fix that, but watching her in the truck, it was not even clear she’d be joining me.
The two officers dispatched to watch the building for the night pulled up next to Samantha’s truck and got out. One knocked on her window and her head shot up. She put up a hand, nodding vigorously, and got out to join them with her overnight bag.
I opened the door for all three as they arrived, entering the vestibule. Producing a key, I unlocked the door, and we entered the cavernous three-story foyer with its patterned marble floor, chandeliers, and seating areas. The foyer always smelled like lilies and cedar, fresh and inviting, with classical music playing quietly in the background. It was good to be home, even under the circumstances.
Samantha’s hand found mine as I entered behind her and the officers, although she still didn’t look at me. She scanned the room, from wall to wall, floor to ceiling. She told me once she measured things in her head and scouted exits, as a way of becoming familiar with unknown places. Once she finished, she’d discover its beauty.
Marcus, with his short gray hair and impeccable black suit, stood behind the concierge desk. In his sixties, he managed the building and all its staff. Clear-eyed, never missing a beat, he inspected each person with me. “Welcome home, Dr. Ferraro. We weren’t expecting you back so soon. Do you need a hand with anything?”
I gave him a curt nod, understanding his implied question. “These officers will check my condo before we go in and then watch the building overnight.”
“Will you be home long, sir?”
“Eleven nights.”
“Would you like one of your vehicles brought out of storage?” He was excellent at his job. Discreet, professional, and knew the tenants well.
“Sì, the Levante, per favore.” I inclined my head toward Samantha. “And this is Ms. Caine. Extend her every courtesy. She’ll be staying with me.”
“Tonight only,” she said.
My stomach sank at her words. Tonight only? I opened my mouth to debate, but she shot a glare at me, then to the officers.Not in public, that look said.
We took the last elevator, using a separate key to access the penthouse floor.
One of the officers positioned himself directly in front of the doors as we rode, hand resting on his gun. “Does the elevator open directly into the residence?”
“No. There are two penthouses, and each has a separate door.”
Table of Contents
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