CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: WINTER
When my bedroom door opens, I look up, expecting to find Enzo, but I'm slightly surprised when I find Vito instead.
I quickly sit up in bed, staring across the room at him.
He lingers in the doorway, leaning against the frame of the door. His dark hair is pulled back into a ponytail, which almost looks odd on him until I notice the way it emphasized his strong cheekbones. His suit is perfectly pressed but the arms are pulled up to his elbow, exposing his forearms. I only glance briefly at the ink it exposes before my eyes return to his.
I take a deep swallow.
"Hello, Winter." There's something so serene and calming about his deep voice. It makes me want to relax and go to him. It makes me almost forget who he is.
Vito Bianchi, but most know me as the fixer.
"Hi." I pull the sheets up on me as I stare at him. My nightgown exposes my shoulders and the top part of my breasts. I've gotten used to Enzo and Giovanni seeing me in the stupid skimpy outfits, but it almost feels inappropriate in the presence of Vito.
He smiles and when my heart goes wild in my chest, guilt quickly follows. I still myself, continuing to watch him.
"It's time to get up," he says. "You'll be joining me for a little part of the day."
I'm not sure if I should be relieved or not, but I know it doesn't matter. All I can do is go where I'm told anyway. "Okay."
"Your clothes are in the bathroom. Once you've taken your shower and changed, you can meet me downstairs in the atrium." He gives me a wink that I almost miss before he's pulling my door closed and leaving.
The lock doesn't click behind him.
I blink, thinking my mind must be playing tricks on me. I inhale a deep breath, slowly taking the covers off. My feet dangling over the side of the bed, I stare at the door in disbelief.
Slowly, I creep over and turn the knob with my heart in my throat. There's no way...
The knob turns easily and when I pull it opens. My lips part and I stick my head out the door, looking up and down the hall, but there's no one on the level, not even Enzo.
I know this isn't technically freedom, but it's more than I've had in the couple of days that I've been here. I quickly head out of the door, moving down to the bathroom. I don't know what I've done to gain this freedom but I know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.
I lock the door behind me and take a quick shower. I'm even more pleased when I find that my clothes are actually comfortable and not skimpy. The jeans fit perfectly and so does the long sleeve grey shirt. A jacket is on a hanger on the back of the bathroom door and I quickly pull it on, wondering why the rest of my clothes are never placed so neatly.
I pull on the flat shoes and go straight down the stairs instead of going back to my room. I find Vito at the bottom. He's glancing at his watch, but he looks up when he hears me. When I get to the last step, he holds out his hand and after a brief moment of hesitance, I take it.
A buzz lights my fingers where we touch and I press my lips together firmly. "How did you sleep last night?" he asks casually as he opens the door.
The winter air blows across my skin and I shiver slightly. "Good," I say swiftly.
He nods. "Good," he repeats. He leads me to a running car parked in front of the steps. He opens the door for me and I slide in, moving to slide over to make room for him, but he places a hand on my arm. "No need," he says shortly before slamming the door closed.
The opposite door opens and he slides in, his leg touching mine briefly before he pulls away. He leans over and pulls my seatbelt around me before leaning forward and tapping the shoulder of the unfamiliar driver. I notice that he doesn't put his own seatbelt on.
The driver nods before the car pulls away from the mansion. I stare out of the window, my brows pulled together as I wonder where we're going.
"You’ve been present at the time of two shootings now," Vito says out of the blue, pulling my attention back to him.
I turn, studying him, but I can't get a read on him. As usual, his face is more or less blank, his eyes serious, but his posture relaxed.
I nod. "Yes."
"And you saw two men arguing?"
The club at the shooting feels so long ago that it takes me a moment to realise what he’s talking about. "Yes," I repeat.
"Hmmm, not even Enzo saw them." He rubs his chin and I can't tell whether or not he's implying anything.