Page 34 of Promise Maker

I hurry to the car.

“Qualcosanonva, Nico?” he asks when I get in beside him.

Is something wrong with me?

Yes.

“No,” I tell him, and Rodrigo takes off for home.

It’s not until I’m there that I begin toexperience the torrent of emotions and bursts of red before my eyes.

I jump into the shower, hanging my head beneaththe water. But no amount of washing will cleanse my sins.

My breathing is still uneven when I step back intomy bedroom. The images of all the men I’ve killed won’t leave my mind.

Seeking peace, I trek down the hallway toSolari’sroom. Her innocence gradually drives the darkaway, reminding me why I wanted her in my life from the first time I saw her atonly ten—the age when I witnessed the first killing.

11

My ears perk up at the quiet opening of the door.

Sensing his presence in the room, I open my eyesjust a peep, pushing back a gasp when I see Domenico lowering in the chair inthe corner.

He’s akin to a predator studying his prey; shadowshiding his features, respiring quietly.

If he notices I’m awake, he doesn’t show it.

Perhaps this helps him in some way.

He told me he had work to do and would be outlate. Truthfully, I’ve felt anxious all night and unable to fall asleep becausehe’s been on my mind.

So instead of calling him a creeper and chasinghim out of the room, I keep quiet and allow him to have whatever desire he’ssatisfying.

His presence brings a sense of safety anyway. Somuch so that soon, my lids finally start to feel heavy.

I want to stay awake longer and watch him watchingme. But uncontrollably, my eyes fall shut on their own.

I jump up with a start.

Sunlight is immersing the room. I hear thechirping of birds.

My gaze zips to the armchair.

Of course, Domenico’s gone.

I wonder how long he stayed last night.

It’s hard to deny the thrill that shoots throughmy body, knowing he watched me while I slept.

Ruffling my curls, I climb out of bed, shower, anddress in a flowy skirt and tank top.

On my way to the kitchen, Rodrigo calls after me.“Signor Martelli says to come to his office.”

It might be news about my dad.

Pulse quickening, I follow the guard across thepiazza. He knocks and opens the door for me to enter Mr.Martelli’sgigantic office.

“Solari,” he greets, rising from his leatherchair. He picks up a sealed envelope, coming around the desk to hand it to me.“This is your father’s will, and also….” Kindness glistens in his gray eyes.“He left you a letter.”

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