But nearly half an hour later…he does.
Stefano:I see you have no respect for rules.
Me:You wouldn’t consider a ‘last supper’ gift an open threat on your life?That’s an emergency.
Stefano:Sleep well, rule breaker.
Me:Should I?Or should I try to escape?
Stefano:Consider me a sated cat for now.I’ll hunt when I’m hungry.[attached: 019824_img.jpg]
I tap the attached image.
A dish of half-eaten blueberry bread pudding, a full shot glass of vodka untouched beside it.
Wait.He’s havingmy‘last supper,’ too?
Why is my twisted brain wanting to recognize this as…a date?
If the patio set in the background is any indication, he’s also on a balcony somewhere.
I glance out into the darkness, but the view from this side of the house offers nothing but the rear grounds and the wilderness beyond.
Me:I’ll sleep well then.I appreciate the mercy.
And when I finally climb into bed an hour later, a delusional grin on my face…
Idosleep well.
Really well.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Raya
TWO WEEKS LATER
IT’S SUNDAY AFTERNOONANDLorenzo has me planted in his game room, reviewing surveillance.
Clearly, he doesn’t believe in rest days.
He’s a man on a mission, determined to ferret out the disloyal turncoats.
But for the past hour, his focus has shifted, hijacked by the secret surveillance feed on his phone.The one he doesn’t know I know about.
By now, I’ve figured out that whenever he pulls upthatfeed, it does one of two things—puts him in a freakishly good mood, or drop-kicks his temper straight into the gutter.
Lorenzo Castello’s daily mood ranges betweendon’t give a fuckandfuck you,die.Anything else outside that range is influenced by whatever he sees on that secret feed.It controls him somehow.Fuels both his contentment and his rage.
Cora comes in and sets a serving tray in front of me, laden with grilled chicken sandwich, a tall glass of ice-cold lemonade, and a side of sliced mangoes.
“Thanks so much, Cora.You’re the best.”
She warmly cups my cheek before turning to leave.
Lorenzo stops her.“Why do the snacks and drinks only come out when Raya’s here?You never bringmeshit.”
Cora tilts her head toward the ceiling, as if summoning patience from the almighty.“Would you like a grilled sandwich, Lorenzo?Something to drink?”
