Page 56 of The Woman on the Jury

Suddenly, I was wondering if I was even free to leave at all.

If I decided to say ‘Eff this’ and go out there, would they let me? Would they force me back into the penthouse? Was I a prisoner here?

What about my grandfather?

And the shop?

Half an hour later, there was a knock at the door, dragging me out of my storm of thoughts.

I made my way over there, stomach doing flip-flops until I reminded myself that none of these men had ever hurt me. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Pulling the door open, an arm was holding up a white bag.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Breakfast,” he said, pushing it into my hands, then turning to face away from the door again.

Like he didn’t have permission to look at me or something like that.

I was too hungry to give that much thought as I went into the kitchen, pulling items out to find an omelet with cheese and veg, a side of hash browns, and a parfait. Oh, and an orange juice.

Had Cosimo ordered this for me?

And why did the idea of that give me the warm and fuzzies?

I rolled my eyes at myself.

That was ridiculous.

If someone had ordered me breakfast, it was likely Miko.

That realization kind of made disappointment burrow through me as I ate my breakfast.

The rest of the day was full of, well, boredom.

I couldn’t figure out where the TV was.

So I just walked around, bored.

At lunch, there was another knock, another bag, and a panini with a side of sweet potato fries.

As afternoon crept toward evening, my boredom had me way overstepping my place as a guest by climbing up the staircase, and moving into Cosimo’s bedroom.

And, yeah.

This place was the sexiest bedroom I’d ever seen in my life.

Black walls, hardwood floors, a gray carpet under the California King-sized bed covered in gray and black bedding. Like the rest of the penthouse, there was a bunch of hidden light to keep it warm.

His room was massive enough to have room for a sitting area with two chairs facing, finally, a big TV.

And under that TV was a smaller gas fireplace like the one in the living room.

Moving through the room, I found an absolutely massive walk-in closet full of more of his suits, shirts, shoes, and a small collection of workout clothes, and some black pajama bottoms.

The bathroom almost made me want to cry.

The walls were some sort of gray stone, the floors wooden, and the sink vanity some sort of floating hunk of wood with no storage in it.

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