Page 5 of Freed
He tilts his head, studying me like a puzzle he’s already halfway solved.
“He’s engaged to someone else, is he not?” A faint smile curves his mouth. “I believe that is the very definition of a mistress.”
Heat rushes to my face. Shame. Anger. Fear.
“If you know who he is,” I say tightly, “then keeping me here against my will is a very bad idea.”
This time he laughs, deep and unbothered, as if I’ve amused him. He gestures lazily toward the door. “The exit is that way, Birdie. No one is stopping you.”
Relief sparks but is doused a second later.
“But” he continues, voice sharpening just enough to make me freeze, “I’d caution you to think for a moment before you step outside.”
“And why is that?”
“Because someone went to great effort to drug you and drop you in my aunt’s restaurant.” His eyes lock onto mine. “Someone who knows that Conti and I have been enemies for many years.”
Enemies.
The word sends a shiver straight down my spine.
“You can relax,” he adds, almost gently. “I’m not in the business of killing women. But someone out there wants to make sure a war starts over you.”
My throat tightens.
He watches me carefully now, no humor left in his expression.
“Any idea who would want to do that?”
2
Birdie
I stare at him, my pulse thudding so loudly it feels like it might give me away. The room tilts, just slightly, like the edges of reality can’t quite hold.
“No,” I finally say, my voice thin. “I can’t think of anyone. I’m a nobody.”
He studies me for a long moment, his blue eyes assessing, like he’s peeling back layers I didn’t even know I had.
“Not true,” he says at last. “Someone cares a great deal about you.”
My fear sharpens not inward, but outward. Toward the man I left behind.
“You said you’re his enemy,” I ask, dread crawling up my spine. “Did you have something to do with Sienna’s death?”
I watch his face carefully this time, bracing myself.
What I don’t expect is the flicker of grief that cuts through his expression. It’s gone almost as soon as it appears, but not before it steals my breath.
“I didn’t kill Sienna,” he says quietly. “Though I’m guessing the same person who brought you here is responsible.”
My throat tightens. “Did you… did you know her?”
“I did.” He pushes to his feet in one smooth motion. “Come.”
“Where are we going?” I ask, panic nipping at my heels as I slide off the stool.
“If someone truly drugged you, you need to be seen by my physician,” he replies. “He’ll give you fluids. Help clear whatever’s still in your system.”
