“I told him she’s gone,” I say quietly, too quietly.
“Tell him the truth, Gracie. Tell him soon before I do. The only reason he doesn’t know already is out of respect for you, and because I figure he might kill you if you weren’t completely honest about everything, so I’m giving you this chance to save your life. Don’t be stupid and waste it.”
He turns and leaves the room. I watch him go before I crumple sideways and lean against the lockers with a metallic thump, my head pounding with pain, my jaw aching from where Juniper slapped me as hard as she could.
God, Riley, why couldn’t this be simple? Why couldn’t any of this be easy?
I squeeze my eyes shut and see her face smiling in the leaf-dappled sunlight in the forest between our houses.
I’d do anything for that smile again.
But Diego’s right. I have to tell Calvino the truth. Or at least tell Calvino the whole truth.
Because Riley really is gone, and she’s not coming back.
Chapter 10
Grace
I emerge from my room four days after our first dinner date wearing a form-fitted black Givenchy dress with lace up the center showing a slight hint of my breasts, the skirt draped down along my curves, and I have to admit I look freaking hot. My makeup is on point, my earrings are absurdly expensive, even the rings on my fingers sparkle like I’m made of diamonds. All of this appeared in my room this morning with a little note: Wear this for me tonight.
I smile at Calvino and spin around twice and hold out my hands as he watches me with a tilted head.
“Well?” I ask, grinning huge. “How do I look?”
“You look fucking perfect,” he says and I feel a shiver of excitement run down my spine. Maybe I look so good he’s going to be nice for once. “I didn’t know you could clean up so well.” Maybe not.
“Asshole.” I’m smiling though as he offers his arm and leads me to the car outside. He’s wearing a gorgeous suit and his hair is slicked back and he smells musky and fresh like a hint of cologne and soap. It’s heady and intoxicating, and I feel good for the first time since that night in the back room with Juniper and Diego.
The driver takes us across town to a small, expensive Italian place Calvino owns, one of his more intimate venues. We park out front but before I can step out, he puts a hand on my thigh and holds me still. I feel a sharp bubble of something like want pierce down through my guts and tingle between my legs, and I wonder how the hell I’m going to make it through this night in one piece.
“Remember, your job is to make Charlie like you. I don’t care if Vince thinks you’re a prick or not. Charlie matters.”
“Understood, boss.” I tilt my head, frowning slightly. “Are you nervous right now?” He’s fidgeting slightly, and he never fidgets.
“I’m not used to putting my life in another person’s hands.”
For some reason, that makes me smile, which is sort of sick, like I enjoy the thought of his discomfort. “I think that’s the first time you’ve been truly honest and vulnerable with me.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
I laugh lightly and lean toward him. I don’t know what makes me do it, but I brush my lips against his in an almost-kiss, and he seems surprised by the intimate gesture. I haven’t been able to get his touch out of my head, not since he got me off in the back room, and tonight I feel loose enough to give in to some of my stupid wants and needs. It’s hard to try to avoid him while also living in the same apartment, especially considering he loves walking around shirtless after a hard workout, glistening with sweat and looking like a freaking sex god.
He’s temptation made flesh, but I keep thinking about Diego’s warning, the words running through my head. I haven’t been able to broach the subject yet, but I’ve been thinking about how I’ll do it since that night.
Vince and Charlie are already sitting at the best table in the house, a little private booth at the far side of the small space, away from prying eyes and ears. Vince stands as we approach and Calvino shakes his hand, and Vince is grinning at him before he turns to introduce himself to me—but there’s a strange moment when our eyes lock and his face falls.
I stiffen and don’t move. I hold my hand out in the act of introducing myself properly but a sudden horrible thought occurs: what if he remembers me going through his things? He did almost wake up once and mumbled something about his wife, Charlie. What if he remembers it and seeing my face like this is going to trigger his memory?