Let Sleeping Dogs Lie
Evelyn
Icouldn’t sleep. I knew I should be tired, but the questions kept rolling around and around in my head. The Marcellis, Sergei, and now these unknown customers of Ricardo Sánchez. They were all using my gallery for their own illegal purposes.
That had to stop.
I bit my lip. Now I was faced with a moral dilemma.
The gallery had needed those sales. Six big-item sales over the last two years were what had elevated me from nowhere to a gallery to contend with. It’s why artists exhibited at the Agora. It’s why international clients looked me up and why reporters wrote pieces on me.
If I gave those up, where would I be?
I sighed. As much as I hated to admit it, Dante was right: I owed my success to his family. It sucked, but it was true. I’d needed them, without even knowing it.
Turning onto my back, I stared at the ceiling as I tried to reason it out.
How bad was it really?
I mean, up until this point, I hadn’t even been aware of it. Was it still a crime if you didn’t know what was going on?
I gave a little snort. That sounded like the kind of philosophical question you’d get asked in law school, and I didn’t have an answer. All I knew was that I would be shooting myself in the foot if I refused to do business with customers whose source of income might be suspect.
I mentally sorted through my current customer list.
Few of them were what I’d call squeaky clean. Galleries weren’t regulated like banks or other lenders. We didn’t have to do background checks on our buyers or get them to prove where the funds came from. There were no money laundering checks or due diligence.
I scoffed. If there were, we’d be out of business.
Except, it wasn’t funny, and all this thinking was giving me a headache. I’d preferred it when I didn’t know.
Maybe a warm drink would help. When I couldn’t sleep at home, a cup of cocoa or hot water with honey often did the trick. I knew we had milk because Kyle had brought some back from the store.
Sitting up, I swung my legs over the side of the bed. What would Dante say if he found me wandering around the cabin in the middle of the night?
Would he be angry? Annoyed?
To be fair, he hadn’t said I couldn’t move around and the bedroom door had no lock. I wasn’t sure of my captive status anymore. He still didn’t trust me, that much was obvious, but was I still a prisoner?
I sighed. There was no rule book for this situation, and I’d be damned if I was going to ask. I wasn’t a victim, no matter the circumstance.
I shivered in my oversized T-shirt as I crossed the room and pulled open the door. The luxurious silk nightgown Dante had brought back with him was not something I wanted to wear while I was being held prisoner in a remote cabin.
As I tiptoed down the hall, I remembered the heated look on his face when he’d grabbed me in my apartment. The rawness in his voice. The way his gaze had roamed over my body.
And the way I’d responded.
I hated that I’d been turned on by him. And worse, that he’d known it.
There was a light on in the living room. The soft glow came from the lamp in the corner.
I stepped into the room and froze.
Asleep on the couch lay a topless Dante. He was spread out, one arm behind his head, the other across his taut stomach. His shirt lay on the floor beside him.
I swallowed, unable to tear my eyes away.
Bronzed skin, broad shoulders, and a smattering of hair on his ripped chest, the man was built like a god. Long legs stretched the length of the couch, and his chest rose and fell in a regular rhythm.
Shit. So much for that idea. He must have decided to sleep here instead of the second bedroom to make sure I didn’t try anything.
I wasn’t going to risk waking him up. Not for all the hot chocolate in the world.
Shirtless, his tattoos were on full display. Unable to resist a closer look, I crept forward.
The rose was beautiful, a full bloom, but with lethal-looking thorns.
They twisted like they were strangling it, before turning into a snake’s head.
I shuddered. It was both beautiful and ominous.
Above it, the badge was clearer now. Definitely military, with a dagger through the middle. His army unit maybe?
I took in his other arm, the one behind his head.
Outlined, in a cartoon style, was the bullet hole, complete with jagged edges.
Under it, and jutting out on either side, was a silver scar.
It looked like he’d inked over the worst of it, but in a way that accentuated it, rather than hid it. I didn’t know what to make of that.
There was also a fine line of script running down the back of his forearm. I’d noticed it before, but it was still too small to read.
Dante stirred and I froze, but luckily his eyes remained shut. Even in the dim light, it was impossible to ignore the long lashes against his cheek. They were too thick for a man, but beautiful nonetheless. They softened his hard, angular cheekbones and balanced the hollows in his cheeks.
My eyes were drawn to his granite jaw, dark with stubble, and settled on his lips, full and tempting. I wondered for one mad second what it would be like to kiss them, then shook my head.
This man was my captor. He’d locked me away here and had plotted to kill me. He didn’t deserve my lustful thoughts.
I was about to go back to my room when I noticed the empty casserole pot beside the sink. Dante had finished off the stew. A warm thrill slid over me for some inexplicable reason. I’d known he was hungry.
As I turned, something shiny caught my eye. The keys. They were hanging out of Dante’s trouser pocket. Both the cabin door key and the fob to the SUV were on there. I stopped and stared at them for a long moment, weighing up my options.
If I could get them without waking him, I could make a run for it. If I reached the SUV without being shot, I could make a clean getaway.
Except, where would I go? I bit my lip and tried to think rationally.
There was only one road out of here. The guards were trained soldiers. Mercenaries. They wouldn’t take prisoners.
No, it was too risky.
Still, staying here with him, waiting for a way to prove my innocence, didn’t exactly fill me with joy either.
Valentina wanted me dead. His family was using my gallery to launder money. Plus, they’d transported drugs in my shipping container.
What I should do is get the hell out and go straight to the police. Confess all. My abduction, the fraud, the kidnapping. All of it. The Marcellis should be punished for what they’d done to me.
Angry indignation made me take a step closer. My heart pounded so frantically I feared it might wake him up.
Crap. Was I seriously considering this?
I looked out of the nearest window. It was pitch dark outside. Heavy clouds had covered the moon.
I knew the guards were out there somewhere, but there were only two of them. If I was very quiet, I might make it to the SUV before either of them even noticed I was gone.
Dante would be arrested, go to prison.
I frowned. Why did that thought bother me? He was nothing to me.
Nothing.
I drew in a steadying breath. Screw it. I had to go for it. The authorities would be lenient on me. I was being held against my will. Threatened. Used. Coerced. I’d make a deal. I knew things about the Marcelli family, things he’d told me.
I leaned in and reached for the keys.
His hand shot out, fingers closing painfully around my wrist in a vice-like grip.