I wake up mad.
I’ve survived worse things. The sentence plays inside my head on repeat as I fling the duvet off me and stomp to the bathroom.
What a jerk. Did I ask him to get into my bed? No. Why did he do it if it was so disgusting for him to lie beside me?
Brushing my teeth, I look at myself in the mirror. My skin’s lost some of its usual color since I stopped spending regular time at the beach, and the highlights in my hair could use a touch-up, but I don’t look that terrible, do I? I spit out the toothpaste and sniff under my arm. I don’t even stink!
My fingers wrap around the edge of the sink. Even if I did, he could have chosen not to be so rude. I get it, Giorgio doesn’t find me attractive, but there’s no need for him to throw it in my face like that.
It’s late, and I missed breakfast, so I take my time getting dressed and then make my way to the gym.
As soon as I pass through the doors, my gaze jumps from Giorgio—he’s throwing punches on the bag—to his discarded keys. They’ve been lying in my vicinity during each of our classes, but there’s never a moment when he’s not near me. Plus, I’ve been distracted.
By him.
By his touch.
By the way his hands feel on me.
But no more. It’s time I get one up on him.
He throws his last punch and turns around. “Let’s get started.”
It quickly becomes obvious he’s decided to pretend last night never happened. He makes me do some brutal conditioning before he starts teaching me a new skill.
It’s awful.
Our conversation is stilted, and he won’t meet my gaze. I get the sense he’d rather be anywhere but here.
And in turn, I can’t seem to learn anything he’s showing me.
“I don’t get it,” I exclaim after I fail to correctly do a sequence he’s demonstrated three times.
“You’re not listening,” he snaps. “Where is your head at?”
His frustration leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I give him an are-you-kidding-me look. “I had a rough night. Apparently, you did too. Maybe we should end class early.”
His eyes narrow at my suggestion. “You have something else to do?”
“Plenty.”
A dry scoff. “Is this about your phone? Move on. If you could, you would have gotten it back by now.”
“Oh, is that what you think?”
“I know it.”
Fire licks the inside of my stomach. I’m definitely finding that damn thing today, just to prove him wrong.
“Whatever, Giorgio. I’d rather help Polo in the garden than do this with you right now.”
Something dark flashes in his eyes. “Watch your tongue.”
I bite down on the retort threatening to come out of my mouth as the air between us vibrates with tension. He’s angry, and so am I, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I know that I need to keep a handle on myself.
What he said to me last night only hurts because I like him. If he sees how upset I am, he’ll suspect it, and God, I don’t think I’d be able to handle the humiliation.
I need to get out of here.
He appears to be of the same mind, because he blows out a breath and goes to get his keys. “We’ll resume tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” I say to his back, and he nods without looking at me.
I go to my room, shower, and get a snack from the kitchen. Despite what I said to Giorgio, I decide against going outside. The ground is still wet from the rain, the sky is cloudy, and the prospect of digging around in the mud isn’t all that appealing.
Instead, I settle inside the library, moving one of the heavy leather armchairs close to the window so I can enjoy a perfect view of rolling hills, yellow wildflowers, and pines spearing the sky. The forest that encircles the property looks somewhat ominous under the gray clouds, and I remember Giorgio’s warning about not going there. Belligerence stirs beneath my skin. Maybe I should do it just to piss him off.
Shaking my head at myself, I tap my fingertips against the side of the armchair. I’m not usually this bratty. Maybe on occasion with Dem when he really manages to irritate me. But Giorgio seems to bring it out easily and often.
I’m watching an eagle soaring above the tree line when a hinge creaks nearby. I glance over my shoulder to see Sophia squeezing past the door. She pads over to me and rests her head on my lap.
“Hi, girl,” I say softly, patting her bristly fur.
She blinks at me and then turns to the window, looking in the same direction as I was before.
“Do you go there often? Does someone take you on walks in the forest?”
She snorts and lies down on the floor at my feet, as if to say I should know better than to ask her questions she can’t possibly answer.
I reach for a book lying on the windowsill.
The Herbal Alchemist—a guide to herbal medicine.
This must be Polo’s. The table of contents is extensive, and I stop on a familiar word. Valerian. Huh. That’s the herb Polo gave me in that tea. I wonder if this book was his inspiration for growing it.
I turn to the page, curious to see what it looks like, and find an illustration of a plant with lots of tiny pink flowers. The text below states it’s a natural sleep aid that can reduce the amount of time it takes to go to sleep and improve its quality. That checks out. I can’t recall the last time I slept that deeply. On the page next to the picture, there’s some additional information written in tiny script. I bring the book closer to my face to make it out.
When mixed with kava-kava, it can induce powerful, hypnotic sleep. Fast acting.
The words stir inside my head. Wait…
I suck in a harsh breath.
Oh my God, this is it. This is how I get that key! I can use this recipe and make Giorgio fall asleep.
I hop out of the armchair and circle the room, a triumphant feeling flourishing inside my chest. Sophia makes a soft bark, eyeing me with a hint of suspicion.
Make the tea, give it to Giorgio, and wait until he falls asleep. I’ll get the key from his pocket, get inside his office, and get my freaking phone. Oh my God. Can it be any more perfect?
The look on his face when he realizes how I’ve outsmarted him? Oh, I am going to be waiting with my camera, ready to take a picture.
A laugh bursts out of me.
Only there’s one problem. How can I get him to drink this tea without making it obvious something is going on?
I halt in the center of the room and adjust the thick book under my arm. This is where I have to be really smart. He can’t suspect foul play.
I spend the rest of the afternoon mulling the problem over. When I get called down for dinner, I still haven’t come up with anything, and my head pulses with frustration as I make it down to the dining room.
I’m so distracted, I’m sure I won’t be able to hold a single conversation at dinner, but when I enter the room, only Giorgio sits at the table.
“Where is everyone?”
His dark gaze lands on me. “I asked them to have their dinner in the staff house.”
My brows pinch together. “Why?”
He rises from his seat and puts a hand on the back of the chair beside him. “I wanted to give you some space after the past few days. I know it can be a lot to be around new people every meal.” He drags the chair out and motions for me to have a seat.
A tiny flutter appears in my belly. I ignore it and sit down beside him.
“It’s fine. You didn’t need to do that.”
He pushes my chair in. “They don’t mind.”
When his hand accidentally brushes my shoulder, sparks crackle against my skin. We’re about to have dinner, alone.
In an alternate universe, this could have been a date. I’ve been on a few dates before— Well, more like I thought we were just hanging out as friends, but the guys I was with clearly had something else in mind.
How the tables have turned.
Giorgio’s changed into a simple button-up shirt with rolled-up sleeves. My eyes trace the thick veins that snake up his forearms, and I get a sudden urge to run my fingertips over them. Instead, I curl my hands into fists and press them into my lap.
The air around us grows heavy with silence.
He breaks it first. “I shouldn’t have pushed you as hard as I did after last night,” he says gruffly as he places a napkin over his lap.
Oh. I wasn’t expecting that.
“It’s fine.”
He slides his palm over his chin. “Did you have a good time in the garden?”
“I didn’t go. It was too wet. I stayed in the library.”
“Ah.” I think I see his lips give a small twitch before he reaches over and removes the domed lids off the plates in front of us.
Steak with what looks like fresh pesto over a bed of mashed potatoes with a side of roasted asparagus, carrots, and onions.
I suck in deep breath and sigh. “Smells incredible.”
“Tommaso will be happy to hear that. He’s worried you’ve been eating so little because you don’t like his cooking.”
“That’s not true. He’s a great cook.” I pick up my cutlery.
“The trays he’s sent to your room came back barely touched.”
I spear a piece of the asparagus and narrow my eyes at him. “You’ve been checking how much I eat?”
“I have.”
His response is delivered calmly, as if there’s no problem with what he’s just admitted to.
I lean my fork and knife against the edge my plate. “Giorgio, my eating patterns are none of your business.”
A hint of amusement flashes over his lips. “You’re my ward, Martina. Your health is very much my business.”
His ward. Hearing that word makes me wrinkle my nose in distaste. I don’t know why I hate it so much, but he’ll throw it out randomly, and every time he does, it twists my insides.
“Don’t call me that,” I mutter as I cut into the steak.
“Why not? It’s what you are.”
“Didn’t I tell you I’m turning nineteen next week?”
“You did,” he says smoothly. “But a ward is—”
“A word used to describe a helpless little child.”
“It’s—”
“It’s insulting, that’s what it is. Especially after everything I’ve lived through. When you call me that, it feels like all of it meant nothing.”
My outburst soaks the room like a bucket of ice-cold water.
There’s a quaking deep beneath my ribs. A fault line triggered by my anger. Anger at what happened. At what it exposed in me.
I used to like myself, but I can’t remember what that felt like. Now, all I feel is repulsion at my weaknesses. They seem to dominate the landscape of who I am. No wonder Giorgio was grossed out about lying next to me. He feels it too.
The backs of my eyes prickle, and all I can do is stare at my plate.
In my periphery, Giorgio places his cutlery down.
“It’s a term we use in the clan to mean someone who’s under the sworn protection of a made man,” he says more gently than I thought him capable of.
Oh. I didn’t know that.
“You’re not a child to me, Martina. I apologize if I’ve made you feel like one. You’ve lived through some difficult things, and I’d never attempt to dismiss them. They’re a part of you now.”
My blood slows its trek.
“I know you’ve been struggling, but you’re strong. I know you’ll get through this.”
At this, my suspicious gaze darts to him. Is he just saying what he thinks I want to hear? “If you think I’m strong—”
“I don’t think it. I know it.”
I shift in my seat. “You don’t even know me.”
His eyes tighten at the corners. “We’ve spent a good amount of time together over the last few days, don’t you think? Do you want to know what I’ve seen?”
My pulse flutters. “What?”
“There are two types of people in this world—those who experience pain and let it consume them, and those who accept it as part of themselves, learn from it, and keep fighting. You’re a fighter, Martina.”
“Have you forgotten what I was like when you picked me up? I was practically catatonic.”
“But you didn’t stay that way for long. It’s not in your nature to wallow in misery.”
“That’s because you didn’t let me!”
His lips lift on one side. “I may have provoked you, but trust me, if you really wanted to continue drowning in your guilt, you would have. You responded to me. You went out to the garden. You came to the gym. I barely did anything. It was all you, piccolina.”
Little one.
My eyes widen until they must take up my entire face. He takes in my expression and sucks in his cheeks before glancing away.
I finger the edge of the tablecloth, at a loss of what to say. How can his opinion of me be so different from how I feel about myself? Yes, I feel slightly better than when I first arrived. The classes have helped me gain some confidence, but the feeling is fleeting. When we’re on the mat, I’m in the moment, and there’s no time to question myself. But when we’re off it, reality creeps back in.
I’ve failed so badly, and at such a high cost…
“I don’t feel like a fighter,” I say softly. “I wish I was different.”
There’s a pause. Unexpectedly and almost hesitantly, his big hand reaches across the table and clasps mine.
“I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”
I lift my chin, and our eyes lock. His expression is closed off, but some emotion crisscrosses over it. A flash of warmth he can’t contain. It travels through the air and pierces through my chest.
Seconds later, he’s pulling back his hand and picking up his cutlery. “Healing takes time, Martina. But you’ll get there,” he says, his voice gruffer now.
I pretend to get back to my food and move it around my plate.
Did he really just tell me he thinks I’m perfect?
I feel like I’m having a stroke.
My breathing is unsteady, and my heartbeat is a jumbled mess.
I force myself to take a bite, but my gaze keeps returning to his face.
Sharp cheekbones. Fine lines around his eyes. A well-defined jaw. He seems like such a hard man, so difficult to read, and yet this isn’t the first time he’s shown me softness.
Does he show it to anyone else but me?
“When I spoke to your brother last night, he asked me to tell you both him and Valentina are doing fine, and that they miss you,” he says, and I get the feeling he’s trying to change the direction of our conversation.
I swallow. “What else did he say?”
“Their days are filled with many meetings and negotiations.”
“With the capos?”
“Yes, and other key players in the clan.”
“Are things going well?”
“They’ve managed to secure a number of important alliances already, and more will be finalized in the coming days.”
“That’s good.”
He cuts a piece of his steak. “I should tell you that he and Ras were attacked on the way to a meeting. They’re both fine.”
I drop my cutlery, and it rattles against the plate. “What? Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this?”
“It just happened. The only casualty was their driver.”
My heart pounds. “Oh my God.”
“These things are bound to happen.”
I know what my brother is doing is dangerous, but to hear Giorgio mention it so casually freaks me out. “I can’t believe he didn’t say anything to me. We haven’t been talking often enough.”
“It’s better that way. The less he calls, the smaller the probability your location gets somehow exposed.”
“Don’t you think he’s overestimated how much danger I’m in? Is anyone even looking for me?”
At this, Giorgio’s expression grows serious. “Oh, they’re looking.”
I swallow. “Sal?”
“And his army.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin and leans back into his seat. “I’m not trying to scare you, but you need to understand that your value increases with each passing day of this war. If any of your brother’s enemies get their hands on you, your brother will have a very difficult choice to make.”
I drag my palms down my arms as the air in the room suddenly turns cold.
“He knows that too. He’s known it from the moment he decided to start this war, which is why he entrusted you to me.”
The implication is clear. He’s the only one who can keep me safe.
I finish my dinner in silence as I process everything he’s said.
“Tommaso was making preserves all day and didn’t have time for dessert,” Giorgio says as he folds his napkin and places it on the table. “It’s a shame.”
I arch brow at him. “You don’t seem to me like someone with a sweet tooth.”
“Why’s that?”
Oh Lord. My cheeks heat. I can’t tell him it’s because his body makes it seem like he survives on chicken, potatoes, and broccoli. “Just…your vibe,” I say awkwardly.
He drags his hand over his jaw. “I like dessert.”
I could make him something. The kitchen’s fully stocked, and I don’t need a lot of time to whip up something simple.
Suddenly, my thoughts screech to a halt.
This is how I’m going to get him to drink that tea.
That’s it. I just got the opportunity I’ve been waiting for.
