“What is going on!” I demanded as Collin continued to pull me hard and fast down the stairs of the Uffizi Gallery towards the front entrance.
I might have been less sore than the day before but my feet still burned from their cuts, and I was not at all prepared, or even able, to run in high heels through the uneven streets of Florence. His grip on my arm was sending a searing pain through all of me.
Collin said nothing and I am not going to put up with being dragged by him another foot. I took hold of his wrist as his hand held me. I gripped his Patek Phillipe watch as hard as I could, and I am sure he would not like that. I’m sure this man would not even allow fingerprints on his damn expensive watch. I twisted it by my thumb, a move I had learnt in my defense classes to get fr
