Page 32 of When She Tempts (The Fallen)
You’re never going to find out.
I drop my hand and step away. “It’s gone.”
She swallows. “Thanks.”
I leave her and her strawberry-stained lips in that wretched dirt and make my way back to the castello.
CHAPTER9
MARTINA
Despite beingsure Giorgio’s keeping my phone in his office, I spend the next two days trying and failing to come up with a way to break in.
Two. Long. Days.
Two. Long. Nights.
The lock on the door isn’t one of those flimsy handle locks that you can pick with a bobby pin. I guess it was optimistic of me to hope that it would be, given it’s Giorgio we’re talking about. The keyhole is a strange shape. It looks like he has some fancy key for it, which he must keep on himself all the time.
On the third night, I request to take dinner in my bedroom and spend the evening trying to come up with some workable ideas, but I just end up giving myself a headache out of frustration.
I haven’t been sleeping well, and I’m tired.
Polo has been inviting me to the garden every day to help him—yes, actuallyinviting merather than commanding. At first, I thought he was doing it because Giorgio asked him, but yesterday, when Giorgio saw us leave the castello to go to the garden, he didn’t seem too happy. He barked something at Polo in Neapolitan dialect that I didn’t understand, and Polo gave him a curt reply before leading me outside. When I asked what that was all about, Polo brushed my question aside.
Maybe Polo’s just taking advantage of me agreeing to help him, but in truth, I don’t mind. I’ve warmed up to digging in the dirt and picking vegetables and berries.
Polo and I mostly work on opposite sides of the garden, so it’s not like his company is a bother. He’s alright. Besides an occasional flirtatious remark that makes my nape prickle uncomfortably, he hasn’t been hard to get along with.
My problems begin when I come back to my room at the end of the day and there’s nothing to do but sit with my thoughts. Ugly, painful thoughts. I need an outlet. Until now, I’ve always had Imogen.
That heavy-duty lock flashes again before my eyes. How do I get past it?CanI get past it? Or did Giorgio give me an impossible task?
Bouncing my head against the mattress, I release a loud sigh. The less I sleep, the more tired I am, and the more tired I am, the more I ruminate and keep myself awake. It’s a vicious cycle.
Maybe it’s time for plan B. There’s got to be something else in this house that’ll help me get to sleep.
My bags still need unpacking, so I occupy myself with the task until the clock ticks past midnight, and then when the house is quiet, I step out into the hallway. A light shines from under Giorgio’s bedroom, and I imagine him reading one of those history books.
In my visual, he’s topless in his bed.
I roll my eyes at myself.Thatincident hasn’t been repeated, but I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about it.
Often.
I bite down on my lip and eye his doorway. He’s been busy with work, so I haven’t seen much of him outside of breakfast and dinner. In the evenings, I hear him move on the other side of the wall, and just the knowledge of how close he is to me is enough to send a thrill down my spine.
His offer to teach me self-defense has stayed on my mind even though he hasn’t brought it up again.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little tempted to take him up on it. But when I examinewhythat is, the answer scares me.
It’s not because I’m that eager to learn a new skill.
It’s because I want to be around him.
There’s something about his presence that draws me in. I have to keep reminding myself that he’s the reason I’m miserable at the moment, but even that isn’t enough to spoil his allure.
“Every object under my protection is of immense value, Martina. And you might just be the most valuable of them all.”
