Chapter Twelve.
I pulled the blanket off my legs, kicking it to the side as sweat clung to me. My throat hurt from the scream I hadn't made. The dream refused to disappear. That night. The blood. My mother's final gasp. My father's body that collapsed next to hers.
I sat up, digging my palms into my eyes, trying to erase the image.
It didn't.
It never did.
A light knock on the door startled me out of the flashback. I did not move. Another knock—firm.
I rose, pulling the silk robe tighter around me, and swung open the door without forethought.
Standing there.
Vincenzo Lombardi.
Leaning against the doorframe as if he was the owner of the world—and me.
His robe was open at the neck, revealing enough chest to make it look deliberate. His arms were crossed. He didn't smile. Just glare
