“A fact.”
“A fact,” I echoed, and shook my head with a chuckle.
She nodded and moved toward a corner. “Maybe we should get comfortable. I have a feeling this will take a bit.”
Greta sank down to the floor in a cross-legged seat, arranging her tutu carefully over her upper thighs, and gave me an expectant look. I motioned at the padded stretcher in the center, that looked far more comfortable than the cold stone floor but a haunted expression slithered across Greta’s face and so I went over to her. I sank to the ground as well and stretched out my legs but made sure not to touch Greta.
“You know what this place is for, that’s why you don’t want to sit on the stretcher.” Even if I hadn’t been in similar rooms back in New York, I would have recognized a place for torture by the bloody straps on the stretcher and the array of pliers, needles and knives on the small metal table at the other end of the room.
“Yes. I know what it is and what they are.”
A hint of protectiveness rang in her voice. I didn’t comment. My feelings for the majority of her family weren’t fit for her ears.
“Do you consider yourself so different from them?”
In some ways, yes, but in many others not at all. Greta meant the latter. “No, which is why I wonder why you aren’t scared of me, especially when you have trouble with people in general.”
“I’m not scared of people, they only make me anxious. And I’m not scared of you because…” She searched my face for longer than was appropriate but I didn’t mind her curiosity. “…because I just know deep down that I don’t have to fear you.”
I’d expected her to say because of her father. After all, he’d invited us here and this was his territory, and while this was probably part of the truth as well, her answer pleased me much more. She smiled again. She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her upper arms with her hands. I didn’t see anything I could have used to warm her, except for my body heat and that was out of the question for various reasons.
“You’re cold,” I murmured. She shivered and curled and uncurled her ballet flats to get warmth into her feet.
“I’m okay. Maybe you can distract me?” She tilted her head to the side, gazing up at me through impossibly long lashes. How could so much loveliness be related to Nevio fucking Falcone?
Fuck, I knew just the way to distract her from the cold.
I stared down at my arms that were loosely resting on my knees. Whatever was going on in my head had to stop.
This was Greta Falcone. Twin of the guy I’d one day kill. Daughter of the man I’d probably have to kill right after.
She was off limits. I tried to find more reasons to stop thinking about her like this, but her age wasn’t one. She was eighteen and I was only four and a half years older.
What about Cressida?
“Why are you here?” Greta ripped me out of my thoughts.
“My father’s meeting with your father,” I said. “Business.”
I wasn’t sure how much she knew about the details of our truce and business in general so I didn’t mention the problems with our drug routes.
“But you aren’t at the meeting now.”
I met her gaze, a caught laugh tumbling out. The low rumble surprised me. “The atmosphere got a bit tense so I decided to catch some fresh air.”
“Nevio likes fighting.”
I didn’t say anything because it wouldn’t have been fit for her ears.
“I didn’t know you were a dancer,” I said, watching how she straightened her toes and let her slender fingers slide over the tutu. Until today I had hardly known anything about Greta Falcone so my words made absolutely no sense.
Her expression became even softer, which made her loveliness shine all the brighter.
“Ballet,” she said as if she were talking about a lover, full of devotion and adoration, and I caught myself wishing she’d use that tone when talking about me.
“And you? Do you like to dance?” she asked, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin on her knees.
“Depends. I used to go to dance clubs a lot when I was younger, now not quite so much, but I suppose you wouldn’t call that dancing.” Mostly I was out with Maximus looking for easy pussy. That was definitely not something I’d mention to Greta.