Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Kathleen opened her eyes and, for a moment, fought through the fog to remember where she was.
The ornate ceiling above her wasn’t familiar, and the luxurious sheet under her fingertips was white, not the rose paisley set on her bed at home.
She blinked, and everything came rushing back.
She was at the Jasmine Door in Lake Lugano.
She’d been mugged. Twice.
She couldn’t trust the cops.
She thought she could trust Enzo Valardi, but the jury was still out on that.
She raised her arm to push her hair out of her eyes and winced when pain flared across her shoulder. What had seemed like light bruising yesterday felt sharper now, her body reminding her just how close she’d come to danger.
Glancing at the clock. Good heavens! Already past nine in the morning. She hadn’t intended to fall asleep last night, at least, not when she’d stormed upstairs. But between the stress, the jet lag, and everything else, she supposed her body had finally given her no choice.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and padded into the bathroom. A few minutes later, she decided she needed coffee. Desperately.
That was the thing about having a two-floor hotel room, lovely in theory, but it meant more moving around than she had the energy for this morning.
She tugged at the neck of the oversized T-shirt she’d slept in, pulling it down just enough to glance at her back in the mirror.
No visible bruises. That was something, at least. Aspirin would take care of the rest.
She opened the bedroom door and headed down the stairs.
There was a coffee maker behind the bar in the corner, and she made a beeline for it.
But when she glanced at the machine, she frowned.
It was empty, yet she smelled fresh coffee.
What the hell? Her heart started pounding against her ribs as she turned and immediately gasped.
Enzo was sitting at the dining table, leaning back casually in his chair, watching her.
“I didn’t know you were here,” she blurted, startled.
He didn’t move, just tipped his chin toward the carafe on the table. “Coffee,” he said simply.
“Uh… thanks.”
She tried to tug the hem of her T-shirt lower, wishing she’d thought to put on something, anything, more appropriate.
Vulnerability made her want to fidget, but she forced herself to stay still as his gaze slid slowly over her from the messy fall of her hair down to her bare legs and back up again, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
“You look well rested,” he said finally, voice smooth, deep. “Or at least… better than yesterday.”
“Thanks?” she managed. “Although somehow that sounded less like a compliment and more like a mild insult.
Enzo grinned. “No insult intended. Just an observation.”
Part of her wanted to retreat upstairs, slam the door, and hide under the covers. But something about his quiet confidence, the way he looked at her, as if he saw more than she wanted him to, made that option feel like surrender. And she refused to give him that satisfaction.
Instead, she walked to the table, poured herself a cup of coffee, and settled in a chair across from him.
“So…” she asked, lifting the mug to her lips, “Did you stay here all night?”
“Yes.” His expression didn’t shift. “I slept on the couch.”
“I see.” She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes slightly. “But you’re wearing different clothes.”
“Yes,” he said, a faint smile ghosting across his lips. “I do have a room here. I went down and changed early this morning.”
He was in jeans now, paired with another snowy-white shirt, the sleeves rolled up casually, exposing his forearms. She caught herself staring longer than she should have, and forced her gaze back to her coffee.
“So, what’s under the silver lids?” she asked, nodding at the table. Four gleaming cloches waited, and her stomach growled in anticipation.
He grinned, and God help her, it was the kind of grin that hinted at trouble and made her knees weak. “Lift them and find out.”
She started to reach for one, but he leaned forward and lifted the two farthest lids for her. “Eggs, bacon, toast… and antipasti,” he said with a little flourish.
Her stomach growled again, this time loudly enough for the world to hear.
“Hungry, huh?” His eyes danced, teasing.
Heat climbed into her cheeks. She managed a nod.
“Then let me make you a plate.” Before he could move, his phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen, his jaw tightening slightly. “Sorry,” he said, rising smoothly. “I have to take this.” He moved to the far end of the room, voice low and sharp as he spoke into the phone.
Ignoring the rapid flow of Italian she could barely make out anyway, Kathleen took the opportunity to fill her own plate, grateful for the excuse to focus on anything but him.
Somehow, he seemed to suck all the oxygen out of the room, not to mention ratcheting up the temperature by a few hundred degrees.
She sat back down, dropped a black linen napkin into her lap, and covered her legs under the table, where she felt less exposed.
Her eyes drifted closed as she took a sip of rich, dark coffee.
Breakfast was divine. Whoever the chef was here, they knew exactly what they were doing.
She let herself savor it, each bite grounding her a little more.
But, a small part of her couldn’t help being aware of the man on the other side of the room, the way his presence seemed to fill it even when he wasn’t focused on her.
A couple of minutes later, Enzo came back and sat down across from her.
He took a sip of his own coffee, settling into his chair with that quiet, unshakable confidence he possessed that made her feel…
well, everything. It was as if her senses had been dormant for years, and this man was waking them up, starting with all her most sensitive areas.
“You’re not having breakfast?” Kathleen tried to distract herself from the direction her thoughts were taking.
“I’m good at the moment,” he said easily.
She hesitated, then asked, “So… did you manage to get my brother to see reason?” At the mere mention of Jamie, her stomach tightened.
She didn’t want to deal with his anger again.
Not that he was angry with her, exactly, but she hated the idea of disappointing her brother, hated being the center of his stress.
He’d been stressed about her for years. She didn’t want to bring any more anger or sadness to his life.
“Yes,” Enzo said finally, setting his cup down. “I managed to get him to agree to something I think works for all of us.”
She paused mid-bite and set down her toast. “And what’s that?”
“That I’ll keep an eye on you at all times. No personal security. Just me.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. She wasn’t entirely sure this was the best compromise. At least not for her. “Seems like a lot to take on.” How would he have time for that? A thought rose… She hated feeling like she had a babysitter.
He raised his coffee mug in a mock toast. “It was me… or the Callahans.”
“Fine,” she muttered. It was clear that arguing against him taking on the task would be useless. And she really didn’t want the Callahans involved. She took another bite of her toast.
Enzo burst out laughing. “Well, with that vote of confidence, how could things possibly go wrong?”
“Sorry,” she said quickly, softening her tone. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I’d just… prefer to be on my own.”
“Understandable.” His gaze held hers steadily, calm and unyielding. “However, that’s not going to happen. Can we agree to make the best of it?”
Kathleen sighed but nodded reluctantly. “Alright. Well, today I want to—”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” Enzo interrupted smoothly.
Her head snapped up, brows knitting. “What do you mean, stop me?”
“Today,” he said evenly, “you’re going to pack your bags, and we’re heading to Italy.”
She stared at him. “Wait. I thought this was supposed to be a compromise. Now you’re ordering me around? I don’t want to go to Italy.”
“Kathleen.” His calm voice was laced with something steadier, firmer, that immediately calmed the hysteria rising in her chest. She held her breath.
It was a natural reaction to being told what to do.
A PTSD reaction of sorts after all those years of being in protective custody, looking over her shoulder, and being whisked off to somewhere else to start life again.
“We’re going to Italy to take care of the Ernie problem.”
She blinked at him. “The… Ernie problem?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “You’re still in possession of a stolen statue. We need to deal with that.”
She put her mug down with a soft clink. “Can’t we just drop it off at the police station?”
His brow arched. “What do you think will happen when you walk into a police station with a stolen statue?”
Kathleen thought back to her exhausting ordeal yesterday, the endless forms, the skeptical stares, and the dismissive way the officers had treated her. The idea of going back and confessing she’d had a stolen statue the whole time made her stomach churn.
“Yeah… no,” she muttered. “Not doing that.”
Enzo read her expression and nodded slightly. “Exactly. It would not go well. The Swiss police can be… very intense.”
“What are we going to do, then?” she asked warily. “March into Italy and hand it over to their police?”
“No.” He grabbed a piece of bacon off the plate and bit into it casually, as though they weren’t discussing grand theft. “We’re going to Italy to give the statue back to the guy who tried to steal it from you. The guy who originally stole it.”
She gaped at him. “Excuse me?”
His expression was grim. “It’s the only way out of this without you being interrogated by every flavor of law enforcement between here and New York.”
Kathleen stared at him as her brain processed what he’d just said. “That sounds… illegal.”
“Technically,” he admitted with a shrug, “but giving it back to the thief solves the problem.”
She blew out a slow breath. “Okay… so we give it back to him. And then what?”
“We walk away. Problem solved.”
“Just like that?” she asked skeptically.
“Yes.” He leaned back in his chair, posture relaxed but gaze steady. “With a few guardrails in place.”
Of course. There were always bumps in the road to overcome. “Guardrails? Like what?” she asked suspiciously.
“Never mind. It’s handled,” he said smoothly, and somehow that didn’t reassure her in the slightest. “All you need to know is we’ll give it back, but we’re doing it in Italy. Italy’s my turf. I trust my contacts there. Switzerland…” He gestured vaguely. “Can be unpredictable.”
Kathleen raised an eyebrow. “I thought Italy was known for being more corrupt.”
Enzo’s smile turned slow, dangerous, and wicked. “And what makes you think corruption is a bad thing in this instance?”
She stared at him, fighting the urge to smile back and losing. God help her, this man was trouble.
“Okay,” she said finally, shaking her head. “Guess we’re going to Italy. We give Ernie back to the thief. And then what?”
“Then,” he said simply, “we spend a couple of days enjoying Italy. After that, you should be able to return to your life.”
She hesitated, chewing her lip. “So… where exactly are we going in Italy?”
“Milano, to start.” He sipped his coffee. “Then we’ll go from there.”
“Milan.” She sighed. “Great.”
“What? You don’t like Milano?”
“It’s not my favorite,” she admitted. “Of course, all I’ve ever done there is shop.”
He chuckled. “That’s all most people ever do there.
But Milan has a world-class restaurant scene.
Once we make the exchange, we can go anywhere you like.
” He glanced at her, his gaze steady. “I promised your brother I’d keep an eye on you for a few days.
Once we know you’re safe, you can do whatever you want. ”
“Fine,” she said at last. “Milan, it is.”
Kathleen stood, taking her coffee with her. “I’ll just… go upstairs and pack.”
Enzo nodded. “I’ll be here.”
She turned and headed up the stairs, gripping the mug a little tighter than necessary.
Inside her room, she shut the door and leaned against it, letting out a long, pent-up breath. The next few days with Enzo Valardi were going to be… intense.
The man was sexy as hell, with an undercurrent of danger that set her pulse racing. Exactly the kind of man she’d always fallen for. And exactly the kind she’d learned the hard way was wrong for her. Didn’t matter. He was Jamie’s friend. That was reason enough to keep her distance.
Three days. She could survive three days of this.
She told herself she could handle it. She told herself this was just another version of protective custody.
But deep down, Kathleen knew the truth. Until she got rid of Ernie and put Enzo Valardi in her rearview mirror, she was in a precarious position.
One wrong move, and she could fall apart.