I ran a hand over the suits, then dragged them a little, messing up the OCD spacing, thinking it funny for a moment. But then I found myself inhaling deeply. I shook my head and walked back into the bedroom.
It smelled like him in here.
I tentatively touched one of the cool steel posts of the bed as I thought about what I was doing, not feeling quite good about it. I perched myself on the edge of the bed and told myself I needed to do this. To break his rules and invade his privacy like he had mine. To take back some of the power he’d taken from me when he’d made me do what he did.
The surface of the nightstand had just been dusted. I ran a finger over it before opening the drawer and peeking inside. It was empty.
I walked to the other side of the bed. The book lying beside the lamp told me this was the side he slept on. I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the drawer open less cautiously this time. This one wasn’t empty. I reached in and took out a bottle of what I thought was hand cream, but when I read the label, I quickly set it back down. It was a half-empty container of lubricant. Digging deeper, I found a row of condoms and behind that, a set of handcuffs.
Voices outside the door had me quickly shoving the things back inside the drawer, and when the door opened, I dropped to the floor and slid underneath the bed.
The women spoke, and I saw the one come inside to pick up the bucket she’d left in the bathroom before walking back out the door. This time, she didn’t forget to lock it behind her.
“Shit!”
I made my way out from under the bed. That was when I saw the leather restraint that hung off the post. Curious, I sat up and pulled it out from behind the cover. I then walked over to the post at the foot and found a similar one, and two more on the other posts.
I grinned. This was a side of Salvatore I hadn’t considered, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.
But now wasn’t the time to think about that. I had a bigger problem. I had to get out of his bedroom.It took me thirty-five minutes to finally pick the lock and get into my own bedroom. Feeling like some sort of thief, I picked up my cell phone, which I’d been charging since it had run down completely. It showed six missed calls. All from Isabella. No texts, but voice mails after each one.
“Hey, Luce. Call me when you get this.”
“Checking in, Luce. You there?”
“Um, I’m feeling like a stalker. You can’t still be mad at me. Hell, you can be whatever you want. Shit, I’d be pissed. Okay, please don’t be mad at me.”
“Fuck.” Effie’s voice in the background, then my sister again. “No, honey, mommy didn’t say a bad word.”
I smiled.
“Lucia, if you don’t call me back right now, I’m getting in my car and driving over there!”
“Fuck. I’m on my way!”
I checked the time of the messages. The last one was from about an hour and a half ago. Which meant she’d be here any minute.
I pocketed the phone and ran out the door. On my way down the stairs, I heard a voice I recognized as Marco’s. I paused on the stairs, listening.
“She’s got a visitor.”
He must have been talking into a phone because I didn’t hear another voice. He mumbled, “Okay, boss,” and hung up.
When I heard his footsteps, I headed down the stairs, noting the room he’d come from. He looked up at me.
“Good afternoon.”
Marco was always around, but at least he stayed out of my way. “Afternoon.”
I heard a car door close and turned toward the front door. From the side window, I spotted my sister taking in the mansion before opening the back door to help Effie out.
“Your sister’s here,” Marco said, reaching the front door ahead of me.
“I can see that.”
“Mr. Benedetti has given his permission for you to see her.” He opened the door, but his comment made me stop and turn to him.
“Really? He’s given his permission?” Asshole.
Marco faced me and was about to say something, but Isabella spoke first.
“Well, it is remote and it is protected,” she said. “I wasn’t sure they were going to open the gates for a minute there.” She came right to me, looked me over from head to toe, and pulled me in for a hug.
I yielded right away, her warmth something I’d missed, something I cherished. It made me feel protected.
“Izzy.” I used the name I used to call her when I was little and couldn’t say her full name. It had stuck. I was the only person who called her that.