Page 37 of Sin & Secrets

“I figured that much out for myself, thanks.” I regret the snark in my tone as soon as Donatella shoots me a glare. “I meant, how big is it? Are all the rooms like this?”

“If you behave, I might give you a tour later.”

I ignore her and leave the bathroom to examine the final unopened door in my room.

I’m not sure why I’m surprised to find a fully stocked walk-in wardrobe. I think my room alone is bigger than Claudio’s entire apartment.

As I explore, my hand reaches out to touch the soft sleeves of the seemingly thousands of coats that hang in the closet.

“Four floors, three bedrooms, five bathrooms, and a gym,” Donatella’s voice chirping voice says behind me. “One of his more modest homes.”

I raise an eyebrow at that. “So this isn’t his only place of residence?”

Perhaps Rocco won’t be staying here after all. I’m not sure why I suddenly feel so disappointed by this. If anything, he would only make things more complicated for me.

“It’s his only home in Brooklyn. His mansion in South Africa is my personal favorite. But the villa in the Canary Islands is also right up there.”

Right.BillionaireItalian don. How could I forget?

“Your bath is ready,” Donatella announces without missing a beat.

With one last longing look at the unexplored wardrobe, I follow the housekeeper back into the en suite.

The refreshing smell of lilac fills the air as bubbles waft romantically from the free-standing tub. But I hesitate before taking another step forward, giving Donatella a pointed look.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before, love,” she mutters but turns around anyway.

Still, I feel my cheeks flush as I quickly strip down and step into the near-scalding water. The instant relief I feel as my shoulders slip under the surface almost makes me groan aloud.

Between being bedridden for several days and the stress of the last week, my shoulders were now incredibly grateful for some TLC. I stretch out my toes, content to just close my eyes and soak for a little while.

Except someone dunks their hands in the water and begins scrubbing at my hair.

“Excuse me?” I splutter out just as another wave of water is dunked on my head.

“You need a thorough clean,” Donatella replies simply as she selects a bottle of the vast array of products around us.

“I can wash my own hair.”

Donatella snorts. “Evidently not if you’ve not been able to get out of bed for two days.”

“This is unnecessary.”

“Mister Moretti disagrees.”

I cross my hands across my chest self-consciously. “Unbelievable. Where does that fucker get off?”

Water splashes into my eyes. “Not another word about the don. He may be demanding, but his heart is in the right place.”

I want to scowl at her petulantly, but I’m too afraid to open my eyes again. “Tell me about him.”

“What do you want to know?”

“How long have you worked here?”

“That’s not a question about him.”

I remain stubbornly silent until she lets out an exasperated sigh. “Over twenty years now.”

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