The Woman from the Past (Grassi Framily)

I hated it even more that it was plain, unflavored, sparkling water.

Can’t have anything with any flavor. I wasn’t allowed to enjoy anything I consumed, apparently.

“Are you cold?” he asked, his icy fingertips grazing over my shoulder, bare but for the small silk strap of my dress. His finger toyed with it for a second too. As if he was saying that with one flick of his wrist, he could have me practically naked at the table.

He could, too.

And there would be nothing I could do to stop him.

My stomach tensed until his hand fell away when I shook my head.

“You showered,” he said, likely smelling the soap on me from being so close.

“I was informed that I smelled like onions and vinegar,” I told him, reaching for my glass just to have something to do as he got behind his chair, his intense gaze on me as his hands rested on the chair back.

“Excuse me?”

“I smelled like onions and vinegar,” I said.

“That is not what you said,” he told me, tone sharp. “Who informed you that you smelled like onions and vinegar?”

Crap.

See, this was what Massimo was talking about. I really didn’t have what it took to make decisions, to play God with people’s lives.

Larry was a dick, yes, but did that mean I wanted Colin’s notoriously wicked temper directed at someone for a nasty comment?

No.

The punishment should fit the crime.

“It was nothing,” I said, waving a hand, hoping it seemed more casual than I felt. “I was glad to be told,” I lied. “I didn’t want to show up to dinner smelling like that.”

Colin’s eyes narrowed as his hands clutched the chair back harder, his fingers going white.

“What else did he say?” he asked, tone biting.

“Colin…” I tried. I rarely used his name. Because I knew he enjoyed it when I did, and it was one way I was able to have a little power over him.

“Tell me,” he snapped, yanking up the chair a bit, then slamming it back down, making my whole body jolt. “If you don’t tell me, I will question both the guards who picked you up today.”

I knew what that questioning would involve. Blood, screaming, torture that the likes of Albert surely didn’t deserve, but would need to endure if I stayed silent.

“You know who it was,” I told him instead, refusing to say it.

To that, he exhaled hard, because he did know.

“Did he say anything else?”

Damn it, but my eyes darted down before I could stop them. It was a total tell. And Colin’s sharp eyes didn’t miss it.

“Tell me,” he demanded, tone dark.

When I glanced up his hands were spread out wide on the table, his body leaning forward.

A shiver moved up my spine.

“I really don’t want to repeat it,” I said, shaking my head, looking away.