Page 67 of The Devil's Deal

As I exit his room and shut the door behind me, I lean against it, overwhelmed with my unexplained feelings for him. I care about his well-being while I shouldn’t. It’s crazy even to me.

But my goal remains the same: getting the fuck out of here one way or another. I hope this incident between us was the turning point and that he learns to trust me. Maybe him getting shot was the best thing that could’ve happened.

Chapter Nineteen

Chiara

My eyes flyopen as though someone has dragged me out from the clutches of sleep. Gripping my comforter, I hold it close, refusing to give away the last few minutes of shut-eye.

It took me a long time to drift off after I left his room. Between losing control of my feelings for him, coupled with the fear of the unknown, I was a wreck.

I keep wondering who my father and uncles killed for Brian to hate them so much. Will I really pay the price for their sins? Will I be dead when this is all over?

And who the hell is Brian Smith? He has to have ties to some sort of organized criminal faction. He’s probably cut from the same cloth my father is, running legitimate businesses combined with the not-so-legal kind.

I sit up, my feet swinging off the bed as I rub the tiredness away from my eyes. Glancing at the clock, I can’t believe it’s noon. It feels like I’ve barely slept. I’m not one of those people who needs a lot of hours of sleep to function.

I quickly change into a black tank top and tight black leggings. Black is my favorite color. On a rare day, I’ll add in some color.

I wonder how Brian is feeling today.

And why the hell do I care?

He doesn’t give a shit about you, so stop worrying about him.

My stomach growls. I hope there’s something to eat. Maybe Sonia made those crepes again.

Reaching for the door, I pull it open, heading for the stairs, but before I do, I tiptoe a few feet toward Brian’s room. It’s still closed. I lean closer, edging my ear nearer.

Silence.

He’s probably still asleep. Who wouldn’t be, after the night I’m sure he had?

I walk toward the stairs, going down very quietly so as not to wake him. Once I’m downstairs, I forget where the kitchen is for a moment, but then I remember. Why does a single man need a home this big?

Stepping into the kitchen, I find Sonia washing tomatoes by the sink.

“Good morning, dear. Would you like some breakfast, or would you prefer to wait for lunch?”

“Breakfast would be great. I’m kind of starving.”

“Of course.” She smiles cheerfully, her hair held up tightly in a bun. “I wrapped up a plate for you after Mr. uh…Smith ate this morning.”

“Wait, he’s up?”

“Oh, yes. He’s in his study, and doesn’t wish to be disturbed.”

How the hell is he functioning?

She goes into the fridge, taking out a white plate wrapped in foil. “I’ve made some crepes since they’re his favorite, as well as some sausage. Does that sound good?”

“I’m not picky. Whatever you have is fine. And your crepes are amazing. He gave me some when he, um—brought me breakfast in bed one day.”

I have a feeling “while he held me hostage in his room” wouldn’t go over very well.

“That’s very sweet.”

Ha! Lady, you have no idea.

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