“She’s none of your concern.”

With a dry laugh, he shakes his head. “Sure, she isn’t. She wouldn’t have anything to do with my uncle’s incarceration, would she?”

I stay quiet, though I’m sure he can see the slight tic in my jaw. For someone trying to distance himself from family business, the bastard knows far too much.

Matteo smiles before changing the subject. “Lou didn’t mention how long you’d both be staying….”

“That’s because we don’t have a firm answer yet.”

“Well, I guess we’ll start with a few weeks then. You have my number. I also left the maid’s number and the grocery delivery service contact info in the kitchen.”

“Yeah, on the table. You mentioned that.”

“You’re lucky you’re not kicking me out of my house,” he quips, ignoring my asinine remark.

“Sorry for the short notice. But thank you for your help,” I add.

“I owed King. Now, we’re even.”

“Good to know. Do I need to know about anything in here?” Motioning to the room, I take in the monitors, keyboard, and desktop that looks like a regular office on steroids.

He waves me off. “Nah. It’s just your usual shit. Since this place is out in the middle of nowhere, the security cameras usually only go off when a cow is on our grounds, but I’ll hook up your phone to get notifications.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure thing,” he returns.

“How could you tell it was her?” I demand, unable to help myself.

Plopping down into an office chair, he confides, “She was the first face on Uncle Moretti’s email, and the only one he cared to see. He’d planned on purchasing her, but Burlone said he already had a buyer lined up. Good ol’ Uncle Moretti was sorely disappointed, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“He’s not used to being told no.”

“No, he’s not. He planned on reaching out to a guy named…Johnson? He was going to offer him more money to keep her, but that obviously didn’t work out since he’s a little busy in prison. And he’s under the impression Kingston took care of her.”

Rolling my shoulders, I mutter, “Yeah…about that….”

“I don’t give a shit about good ol’ Uncle Moretti.” Matteo laughs, amused by my half-assed attempt to apologize before sobering with his next words. “And she doesn’t look like a Fed to me. But she’s too stunning for her own good, D. I suggest you figure out how the hell to alter her appearance. Quickly. Word travels fast, and it’s only a matter of time before they come looking for her––the girl who got away.”

“What else have you heard?” I prod.

“That she isn’t who she appears to be.”

I cock my head to the side. “Do you know who she is?”

Pulling up a live feed of the hallway that leads to her bedroom, he studies it carefully. The door is wide open, but there isn’t any movement.

“Answer the question,” I demand.

With his gaze glued to the screen, he concludes, “She’s just a broken girl who doesn’t know how to put herself back together again.” Clearing his throat, he tears his attention away from the video feed and looks up at me. “Be gentle with her.”

“I won’t hurt her.”

“I meant emotionally,” he clarifies.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

He nods. “Good. I left all the items Lou mentioned on your bed in the room across from hers. I don’t know if hair dye will be enough to hide her identity, but it’s worth a shot. And like I said, let me know if you need anything else. There’s a keypad on the door to this room. The code is 0-0-1-0-0.”