She said it way too casually, “You boys planning to be back before midnight?” with that sweet-as-sin f*****g grin. “I like to know when I have the house to myself.” The second those words left her mouth this morning, they nailed themselves under my skin like a splinter.
By five, I’m not listening to a goddamn thing Massimo is saying. Silvio talks about logistics, Angelo texts about a truck delay. All I can think is that she’s up to something.
I clear my throat. “Going to check something at the villa. Won’t take long. I’ll meet you at the docks.”
Silvio barely looks up. “Make it quick.”
I’m already walking. The drive is fast and way more aggressive than necessary. Every stoplight feels like a personal insult. My fingers drum against the wheel, my jaw clenches until the vein in my neck
