Chapter4

The elevator doors opened. I walked into the apartment.

Everything looked exactly as I'd left it, but something felt off the moment I stepped through the door.

The air had changed.

A trace of perfume. Faint, but real.

Sweet and cloying, with a floral undertone.

Not mine. I had never worn anything like that.

I went into the bedroom.

I had left in a hurry that morning—the comforter shoved aside, pillows askew.

Now the bedding was smooth. Both pillows set neatly side by side, the corners tucked.

Someone had been here.

Someone had come into my bedroom and touched my bed.

I checked the wardrobe—all my clothes were hanging where I'd left them, undisturbed.

I exhaled and was about to turn away when something caught the edge of my vision. On the innermost shelf.

A single high heel.

Red. Stiletto. The vamp glittering with rhinestones.

Not my size. Not my style. I had never owned anything like it.

She had left it here on purpose.

This apartment was Dante's private ground. In three years, I had never seen a single family member set foot inside without being invited. Even Luca called ahead and waited at the door. Cesare only ever delivered things to the lobby downstairs. Anyone else didn't even come into the building.

And yet someone had been inside.

A woman.

Wearing perfume I would never wear. Shoes I would never own. And she had made herself at home in my bed.

I picked up my phone and almost called Dante. Then I didn't.

What would I even say? Did you bring another woman here?

He would say no. He'd say I was imagining things. He'd say that must be the cleaning lady's perfume.

He would perform it flawlessly. He always did.

The nausea rose again.

She had been here. Maybe yesterday. Maybe this very afternoon.

I went to the guest room and closed the door. It smelled faintly of dust—no one had slept here in a long time. But it was better than the bedroom. No perfume. No sign of anyone.

I lay down and stared at the ceiling.

My phone buzzed. A message from Dante.

Asleep already?

I looked at those two words and tried to picture where he was when he sent them.

In his car? In her apartment? Just out of her bed?

I typed back: Yes.

His call came through immediately.

I watched his name on the screen. Hesitated two seconds. Picked up.

"You're asleep and you still answered?" There was a smile in his voice.

"You woke me up."

"I miss you," he said. "I'll definitely come home early tomorrow to be with you."

I closed my eyes. "Okay."

He would come home. Wearing her perfume. Maybe with a mark on his neck. With that gentle face of his, telling me he had missed me.

And I would pretend I had no idea.