31. Georgia
31
GEORGIA
W hen I woke up, the world lurched so violently, I didn’t know how I managed to make it to the bathroom to throw up. Several disgusting and wrenching minutes later, I collapsed onto the floor and groaned.
What the hell?
I hadn’t ever been this hungover. I wasn’t a big drinker, and for a long time I’d been on so many antidepressants, I’d never bothered with more than a glass of wine here and there.
Now, I was paying for the fact that I had basically zero tolerance. I’d been damn lucky to survive a whole bottle of wine.
“Mrs. Santori, allow me,” a female voice spoke from the doorway.
I rolled over to see Captain Toni, fresh-faced and full of health. She had a medical bag in her hand.
She helped me up off the floor and back to bed.
“You don’t need to take care of me. I’m fine. It’s my own fault.”
“Feeling like shit, is still feeling like shit, regardless of whose fault it is, if you’ll pardon my language.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. The phrasing was so unexpected from Captain Toni.
I lay down and watched her unzip her bag.
“You got some aspirin in there?”
“Not quite,” she said and pulled on some latex gloves, snapping them for good measure. Then she took out an IV with a long tube and needle.
“What the hell?” I reared back.
She reached for my arm regardless, her touch firm and nonnegotiable.
“Fluids, painkillers, and saline. You’ll feel better in no time.”
I watched as she swabbed my arm and then slid the needle in. She had a surprisingly gentle touch.
“I’ve been administering emergency medical aid for decades. Don’t worry.”
“Oh, I’m not, I just feel really bougie to be getting a drip for a hangover. Is this a rich people thing?”
“Pretty much,” Toni admitted. “Colonel Santori ordered it.”
“Colonel?” I repeated. “You served with Elio. I thought you didn’t use titles in civilian life.”
“It’s hard to remember when it comes to the boss,” she admitted. “If you could keep my slipup to yourself.”
“Of course. Anyway, it’s not like I talk to my husband much.”
Toni shrugged. “He doesn’t talk to anyone much. But you are the first and only woman to visit this residence.”
“You’re here.”
“Because of you. The boss doesn’t share his space with people. He doesn’t trust anyone.” She caught my eye, and I could see her curiosity. “Except you, apparently.”
I shook my head. “I wouldn’t read too much into it. He just knows how powerless I am.”
Toni let out a little chuckle. “You might be inexperienced and untrained, but in this house, I wouldn’t call you powerless. Far from it.”
I sighed and lay back as Toni draped the IV over the back of the headboard.
“You’re going to be disappointed when you find out… your beloved colonel married a woman he hates.”
Toni bustled around, tidying up. “The boss doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do, that much I know for sure. On that note, some things came for you.”
“Really?” I sat up straighter. “Clothes?”
“Clothes, I think, but something more than that. We can go and see, if you want.”
Toni rigged me up a portable stand for the IV bag, and I wheeled it after her down the hall, past the huge living room to a room on the other side. She opened the door, and I stepped inside.
At first sight, I flinched, seeing several tall figures standing against the windows.
No, not figures. Dressmaking dummies.
There were four in total, and on the opposite wall, there were about ten rolls of fabric. On the large desk in the middle of the room were bags. In disbelief, I peered inside.
There were shimmering spools of thread in every shade imaginable, and a sleek pair of tailor shears with polished silver blades. A pincushion bristled with needles, and a tape measure sat on top of rolls of tightly packed ribbons, lace edging, and tailor’s chalk.
Everything I needed for my own dressmaking studio, right here, in these bags, and my own room to do it in.
I sat at the desk, incredulous.
“What is all of this? Why would he do this?” I looked at Toni, who just shrugged.
“I don’t know, but like I said, the boss doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do. Which reminds me.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a sleek black cell phone. “This is for you.”
I took it and turned it over in my hand. Honestly, I hadn’t missed mine much in the last few days. The only person I might have missed checking on me was Erica. God only knew where she thought I’d gone. Was the LAPD looking for me because of the massacre in the dress shop? Elio didn’t seem concerned. If anyone was experienced here with getting away with murder, it was him, it seemed.
“He’s letting me have a phone?” I pressed my finger to the screen, and it unlocked. I just wasn’t going to think about how he programmed my fingerprint to unlock it. Probably last night when I’d been out of it.
“To an extent. It can only call one number.”
I opened the phone book, and there it was, the only number in the phone. Added under:
My Mercenary.
I jabbed it, more out of curiosity than anything else. It rang three times, then someone picked up.
“You’re still alive.” Elio’s deep voice came over the line and shocked me like a live wire.
I threw the phone across the room in fright.
Toni bent and picked the phone up from the chair it had landed on.
She put it to her ear. “Yes, sir. She is. She does. Very well.”
She hung up.
“Here,” she said and handed me back the phone.
I stared at it. “How come it can only call one number? Can it call 911?”
Toni shook her head. “Nope. It’s specially made. Giada, the boss’s sister, cooked it up. You can call your husband, and he can call you, and that’s it.”
“Great. What if I’m in a burning building and I need to call the fire department?” Or the police to report my own kidnapping?
“I’d still recommend calling your husband.”
Well, it was clear where her loyalty lay. I shoved the phone into my pocket.
“Okay.” I sighed. “What now?” I looked around the room. It was flooded with natural light. There was space and all the stuff I could possibly need.
“I guess you’ve got a lot to organize. Better get started.”
A flicker of excitement lit in my belly.
“Let’s do it.”
By the time night fell, I’d organized my new room seven different ways. I had my half-finished designs all pinned onto dummies. I’d been shocked to find the walk-in closet in my room packed with not only the clothes I’d picked out, but the rest of the store. He was right, money wasn’t an object to him anymore. It was hard to get my head around.
I couldn’t lie, when I’d found the wardrobe, I spent nearly an hour trying things on. I was still neck-deep in the new things when a soft knock on the closet’s archway that connected the walk-in to my bedroom sent me spinning around.
Elio lounged in the doorway, dark and dangerous and utterly lethal. His sharply cut suit did nothing to hide the power in his shoulders, and his piercing green eyes were fixed on me. Not on my face, though, on all of me, up and down, taking in the dress I was wearing. I’d been trying on a pale-yellow one that fell to the knee and had a sweetheart neckline. The bodice was tight, and I couldn’t reach the zipper myself. He walked toward me and wordlessly twirled a finger, telling me to turn around. I complied, and he pulled the zipper up. The feeling of his hot breath on my back weakened my knees.
“The clothes fit,” was all he remarked.
I nodded. “They do. You didn’t need to go to such expense, though. I’m just grateful to have fresh underwear.”
“If you’re implying that I’m trying to butter you up, or buy you with them… you’re mistaken.” Elio’s gaze held my eyes in the mirror in front of us.
His hand slipped from my shoulder and ringed my neck, and I forgot how to breathe.
It sat like a tattooed necklace against the base of my throat.
“I already own you, topolina .”
His fingers pressed lightly into the sides of my throat, constricting my breath just enough to send my heart racing. His front pressed into my back. I felt trapped. Suffocated. Liable to be consumed by this man.
I didn’t hate it like I should.
My eyes drifted closed. I couldn’t take him so near, the scent of him, and the look in those green eyes. It was all too much. I was already losing my head, there was no need to speed up the process.
“We’re going out for dinner,” Elio declared, releasing me and stepping back. “Wear the dress.”
Then he turned and left me there, blood thumping in my veins, hands clenched into fists, genuinely unsure if I wanted to kiss him or kill him.