Someone is scratching at the wall.
My consciousness latches right onto the sound, as if it’s bait at the end of a fishing line, and I’m pulled awake.
My eyes fly open. The room is filled with bright sunlight.
The realization that I made it through the night sends relief rushing through me. God, I wasn’t sure I’d make it. I had to force myself to breathe through bouts of terror and overwhelming guilt. I don’t know what time it was when I finally managed to fall asleep, but it must have been late. I don’t feel well rested.
The bed makes a low creak as I climb out of it. The view out the window didn’t impress me last night when everything was mostly shrouded with darkness, but now it makes me gasp. On the other side of the glass, stretching over the hills, is a dense, majestic forest.
More scratching pulls my attention back to the room. What is that? I thought it might have been a remnant of a dream, but I’m awake now.
I follow the sound. It’s coming from the other side of Giorgio’s door.
Shifting my weight between my feet, I consider what I should do. The sound is strange, definitely worthy of an investigation, but to investigate it, I have to go into Giorgio’s room.
The shiny door handle taunts me.
If anything, our conversation last night established his clear lack of respect for my privacy. These sleeping arrangements are outrageous. And that comment about the camera?
I glance down at my silk pajamas. Black shorts and a loose tank top. I’ve never slept naked in my entire life.
Does he, though?
I clear my throat. Well, if he doesn’t care about my privacy, why should I care for his?
My palm curls around the door handle. If he really didn’t want me coming in, he’d keep the door locked.
And yet the handle moves with ease. I tug the door open.
“Agh!”
Before I can see into the room, something heavy crashes into me, knocking me to the floor. I land hard on my butt, and pain shoots up my spine. It takes half a second for my brain to realize there’s a big dog drooling over me.
“Who are you?” I ask, my heart racing with fear and surprise.
The animal ignores the question and proceeds to sniff me.
I let him or her do its thing, because the last thing I want is to get my fingers bit off. I love animals, but Dem and I have never had any pets, and I don’t have a lot of experience dealing with them.
The dog is wearing a black leather collar with a metal tag. As it stretches its neck to sniff my hair, I catch a glimpse of the name scratched into the metal.
Sophia.
An incredulous laugh escapes me. Oh my God, this is who’s been missing Giorgio?
A dog.
A freaking dog instead of the sexy maid I’ve been imagining.
My mood lightens.
“Hello, Sophia,” I say as she finally steps off me. She’s got short, chocolate-colored fur sprinkled with some white spots, big brown eyes, and floppy ears. I sit up and carefully pet her on the head. She seems to like it, because when I stop, she bumps me with her wet nose as if to indicate she wants me to keep going.
I oblige, taking the opportunity to peer inside Giorgio’s room. At first glance, it appears to be empty. Did he leave for the day?
Giving Sophia one last rub, I get back on my feet. What are the chances he stashed my phone somewhere in his bedroom? We got in late last night, and he may have been too tired to hide it elsewhere.
My teeth sink into my bottom lip. I shouldn’t let this opportunity go because who knows how hard he’s going to make this silly scavenger hunt for me? Better nip it right in the bud if I can.
I step inside his room.
Heavy velvet curtains block most of the sunlight, except for one long beam of light that stretches from the window to the bed.
His bed.
I swallow, my eyes skating over a pool of messy satin sheets and a misshapen pillow. Giorgio seems like someone who’d make his bed, he’s always so put together… If I had to imagine his room, I don’t think I would have imagined this.
The space feels lived in. A tie is slung over the back of a chair standing in one of the corners, and a crumpled shirt lies on the seat. A bottle of cologne sits on an impressive looking armoire. I resist the urge to check the label.
By the bed, there’s a tall stack of books, suggestive of a nighttime reading habit. I walk over to it and get down on my haunches to read the spines. Biographies of Alexander the Great and Napoleon, a history of World War Two… Definitely not what I’d call light reading.
I’m halfway through the description of a book titled The Secret War when I realize what I’m doing.
Quickly, I put the book down and step away from the bed.
Why is it that a room can be just a room, but when it belongs to a man you find attractive, it becomes endlessly fascinating?
I groan and shake off that thought. I came here for a reason, damn it.
My phone.
Where could he have stashed it?
Looking around, I zero in on the nightstands. There are two, one on each side of the bed, and when I reach for the one closest to me, Sophia trots over and emits a low growl.
I glance at her. “Hey, come on. After that rubdown, you can let me get away with this one thing. Sit.”
Hesitantly, she follows the command and cocks her head to the side. I’ve never felt judged by a dog, but I sure do now.
Inside the nightstand’s drawer, I find only one thing, and it’s not my phone.
It’s a gun.
A ball of ice solidifies inside my belly.
I’ve seen plenty of guns in my life—my brother rarely leaves home without one tucked at his waist—but sleeping right beside one in a castello no one is supposed to know about?
Talk about paranoid.
I press that drawer shut and round the bed to get to the other nightstand, but before I reach it, a door swings open.
Giorgio emerges in a puff of steam.
Freshly showered.
Hair dripping.
A white towel wrapped around his trim waist.
He freezes in place.
My jaw drops.
I can’t help but let my gaze ping pong across every inch of his exposed skin.
His body is a work of art made of smooth, lean muscle, including a prominent V that disappears behind his towel. Dark tattoos cover his upper arms and torso, giving him an unexpected edge. Who knew that’s what he’s been hiding beneath his tailored suits?
And those abs I was so curious about? Yeah, I’m counting eight.
A pulse appears between my legs and extends all the way down to my toes. When did this room turn into a sauna? I’m burning up. I don’t even know what I’m doing. I should probably stop staring at him, shouldn’t I? Oh, crap. Stop it, Mari. RIGHT NOW!
My eyes shoot up to his face. “What are you doing!”
A single brow arches up. “What am I doing?”
“Where are your clothes?” I choke out, my voice rising to a mildly hysterical note.
His gaze narrows and then he prowls over to me, crossing the distance between us with three sure steps.
He stops. Way. Too. Close.
I eye his right nipple. “Wha—”
He takes my chin with two of his fingers and turns my head as if I’m a plastic doll. “Where are you?”
When he makes my eyes land on a large mirror, I swallow. Our reflection is almost comical. Compared to my small frame, Giorgio looks enormous. “Your room.”
He lowers his head, bringing his lips closer to my ear. “Ah, so you’re not suffering a sudden bout of confusion,” he says, his voice low. “Good. Now, why are you in my room?”
I take a few shallow breaths as I notice the shape of his flexed biceps in the mirror. He warned me, didn’t he? He told me he didn’t want to see me looking for my phone. I can’t let him know that’s why I was here.
“The dog was scratching at the door. I didn’t know where the sound was coming from.”
A beat passes.
“The door wasn’t locked,” I add.
His hold on my chin disappears. “I didn’t expect you to come barging in.”
Our gazes clash. “I didn’t barge in,” I protest. “I just opened the door to see what was going on, and then Sophia jumped at me. You could have warned me you had a dog, you know. She toppled me over,” I say, pressing my palm against my sore tailbone to strengthen my point. “I’m probably going to have a bruise tomorrow.”
“A bruise?”
“Yes.”
“How bad is it?” He has the decency to look mildly concerned.
“I have no idea.” My heart pounds inside my ears as I turn my back to the mirror and lift up the hem of my shirt at the same time as I tug my shorts a few inches down. “All I know is that it hurt a lot.”
His eyes move to the stretch of skin just above my butt that I’ve presented for examination, and the muscles on his body visibly tighten. His abs become even more defined. His jaw ticks.
“There’s nothing there,” he mutters.
“Of course you wouldn’t see anything from that far away,” I say, my voice taking on a defensive note.
His chest rises and falls with a deep, slow breath. I expect him to drop it, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he steps around me and lowers down on his haunches, bringing my tailbone to his eye level.
His towel rises up his thigh, and my heart skips over itself.
“Is this close enough?” His breath coasts over my skin.
“I-I’d say so.”
When the pad of his thumb gently smooths over the area, I think I might pass out.
“Does that hurt?”
“A little,” I lie. Pain? What pain? The only thing I’m aware off is the square inch of skin that burns beneath his thumb.
Suddenly, it’s gone. Giorgio stands and turns away from me. “You’ll be fine,” he says gruffly. “If you want, I can get you some ice.”
“Okay.” I pull up my shorts and let my shirt fall back down. “Thanks.”
He drags a palm over his face and then turns back to me, his expression guarded.
“I’m sorry for coming in,” I offer, gesturing at the room. “I thought you’d left. I couldn’t hear you moving around.”
“I was shaving.”
“Well, you’re a very quiet shaver.”
He gives me a look, as if to say, Good one, Martina. “I’ll give you a pass since you’re right, I should have told you about the dog.”
With his fist keeping his towel in place, he brushes past me. I clamp down on my bottom lip when his smell hits me—soap and aftershave. I shouldn’t, I know I shouldn’t, but I glance over my shoulder and take in that glorious back one more time.
God was exceptionally kind to him.
“Can I have my room back to change?” he asks without looking at me.
“Oh! Yes, of course.”
What is wrong with me? Heat crawls up my cheeks, and I hurry out of the room.
“Be downstairs for breakfast in fifteen minutes,” he calls out just as I’m about to close the door.
“Okay.”
Once the door is shut, I press my back against it and groan into my palms. That was mortifying. Did I really make him look at my damn tailbone?
With my heart still racing, I fly into the bathroom to take a cold shower—I need it.
