Page 78 of The Assassin's Captive
I close the door and engage all three locks, mind already working through the implications of Petrini's visit. He knows about the shooting at my house. He knows cleanup crews removed evidence. He knows I wasn't home when it happened, which means he's been tracking my movements carefully enough to notice my absence.
When I return to the dining room, Serena is standing by the window, peering through a gap in the curtains.
"Who was it?"
"Silvano Petrini. Retired detective, lives down the street." I move to stand beside her. "He wanted to discuss the break-in that didn't happen and the repair work that wasn't done."
She lets the curtain fall back into place. "He knows."
"He suspects. Big difference." I take her hand, leading her away from the window. "But it means we'll need to be more careful here. No more late-night arrivals, no more obvious security details."
"Is he dangerous?"
"Everyone is dangerous until proven otherwise." I start clearing dishes from the table. "But Petrini is more likely to be a nuisance than a threat. Retired cops get bored. They start seeing conspiracies everywhere."
Serena helps me carry plates to the kitchen. "And if he's more than bored?"
"Then I'll handle it."
She knows what that means. The knowledge settles between us, another reminder of the life she's chosen. I watch her face for signs of regret or second thoughts but find only acceptance.
"What else do I need to know about the new arrangements?"
"Public appearances will be carefully orchestrated. Emilio wants you visible but protected. Restaurant reservations, theater tickets, gallery openings—all of it designed to establish your new identity." I rinse plates and load them into the dishwasher. "You'll need to be seen as sophisticated, educated, worthy of the Costa name."
"Performance art."
"In a way, yes. The performance matters as much as the reality."
She leans against the counter, arms crossed. "And us? How do we handle our relationship in public?"
The question I've been dreading. In this world, personal attachments are weaknesses that enemies exploit. Caring about someone makes you vulnerable in ways that can get both of you killed.
"Carefully," I tell her. "Very carefully."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer that keeps us alive." I close the dishwasher and turn to face her. "Public displays of affection make you a target. They tell everyone exactly how to hurt you, and hurting you is the fastest way to weaken Emilio's position."
She processes this, understanding dawning in her eyes. "So we pretend we're nothing to each other."
"We are professional associates. Bodyguard and client. Nothing more, nothing less."
"And in private?"
"In private, we're everything."
The answer seems to satisfy her. She pushes away from the counter and moves toward the hallway. "I need a shower. The day feels like it's clinging to my skin."
I watch her go, admiring the way she moves through my house with increasing familiarity.Our house now. The possessive thought sends satisfaction coursing through my chest.
While she showers, I secure the house completely. Check all locks, arm the alarm system, verify that motion sensors are functioning properly. The encounter with Petrini has put me on edge, made me hyperaware of every shadow and sound.
The shower runs for nearly twenty minutes. When Serena emerges, she's wearing one of my shirts and nothing else. The cotton hangs loosely on her smaller frame, the hem reaching mid-thigh. Her dark hair is damp and loose around her shoulders, and she smells like my soap.
"Better?"
"Much." She settles onto the couch next to me, tucking her legs beneath her. "Now, about this villa. What kind of house are we talking about?"
