Page 53
I angle my head enough to look at him. “From a man who’s usually so direct, that’s a very irritating nonanswer.”
He snorts. “You asked me a question. I’m just asking you to ask it properly.”
My throat constricts. “I already did.”
“You asked around it. There’s a difference.”
“Some of us don’t have your gift for bluntness.”
“You have it.” His eyes hold mine. “You use it every day with patients. You’re choosing not to use it now.”
The air between us hums with the weight of things neither of us has admitted. His expression is unguarded, like the one he wore with those kids at the hospital.
“Ask me a real question, Lucia.” He tucks a wayward strand of his hair behind his ear. “And I’ll give you a real answer.”
While I know exactly what the real question is, I’m not brave enough to ask it tonight. My desire clashes with my fear of want, tangling into a knot I can’t undo when I’m this close to him. So instead, I shake my head.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He studies me like he’s memorizing my face, then he smiles slyly and nods. “I hope you figure it out.”
I shoot to my feet. “I’m going in.”
He waves me away, and as the wine rushes to my head, I stagger. I want to lie in the quiet as the night air drifts through the open windows.
I stare at the ceiling, thoughts racing through my mind until jet lag drags my eyelids closed.
When I wake, the light shifts through that particular gray-black predawn that belongs to neither night nor morning. Marco’s asleep beside me, one arm sprawled across the space between us. A buzz of excitement dances low in my stomach. I roll onto my side and take in the slow rise and fall of his breathing.
I feel like there’s an electric charge in the small space between us. The desire is almost like a physical chord, pulling us to each other, but I can’t give in. I shouldn’t dare to, because then I’d be losing myself. As I give pieces of myself to him, I chip away at who I am. This is textbook situational attachment. As a doctor, I’m well aware of how stress bonds form. I need to shut this down before it becomes a bond I can’t walk away from.
Marco stirs in his sleep, and his hand closes around my wrist. He’s finding me in his sleep now?
My belly flutters. I pull my hand from his and leave the bed for the kitchen. Then I attempt to brew coffee, hoping to douse the flutters with caffeine.
The machine hisses for a while, until something resembling coffee emerges.
After one sip, I almost spit it out. The black sludge has the acidity of vinegar, and when it hits the back of my throat, it spreads like a caustic wave. It’s immediately apparent that I’m better suited to instant coffee machines. Just push a button, and the brew comes out perfectly.
My phone buzzes on the counter, and after taking another gulp of the acrid liquid, I pick the device up to find a text from an unknown number. Frowning, I open it.
It contains the address for the facility we’re scheduled to visit tomorrow, with a single line of text below.
Hope you’re having fun in Naples, Dottoressa. Give Marco my regards.
My stomach hits the floor.
The real game has begun. Maybe, after all these years, I can get to the bottom of my brother’s story and make his killers pay.
I set the coffee down before my trembling hands can spill the godforsaken excuse for caffeine. Then I run back to the bedroom to shake Marco awake.
Chapter 14
Marco
Two hours after Lucia wakes me with a message she received from an unknown number, we sit two streets away from the facility in a silver sedan—rented anonymously—that I chose specifically because it wouldn’t stand out on Neapolitan streets.
Nico created our cover identities two days ago. We are Jason and Jennifer Smith, a wealthy American couple seeking a discreet medical consultation for a family member. We have clean documents and identities that can’t be traced back to who we are back home.
