Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75241 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75241 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“I think it’s likely he’s responsible for their deaths whether he killed them himself or not.”
“You mean like he paid someone to kill them or something?”
“Or something.”
I studied him for a moment, considering what to ask next. “How does my mother know your boss?”
“They’ve known each other for years, since they were kids, I think.”
That didn’t really answer my question. “These deaths are what you’re really investigating, aren’t they? What do you think happened?” Did I truly want to know? Maybe I was better off not knowing any of this.
“He’s connected to some men who have been known to invite young men and women to parties and force them to provide sexual services for the guests.”
“You think he wanted to pimp me out?” My voice rose so high I was nearly shrieking.
“Possibly. The other men’s deaths may have resulted from being passed around to his friends.”
“Oh my God. I…” Bile rose in my throat. I jumped up and ran for the bathroom. I made it just in time to lose what I’d eaten.
I felt a hand on my back as I hung over the toilet, waiting to make sure the retching had stopped for good. I hadn’t heard Giorgio come in, but he rubbed my back in slow circles. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak yet.
He wet a washcloth and laid it against my forehead. The cool fabric felt wonderful. A few moments later, I took the cloth from him, rinsed my mouth, and then brushed my teeth.
“I need to sit down.”
Giorgio picked me up and carried me to one of the armchairs in the living room. He sat and settled me on his lap.
“Alan tried to convince me to go to a sex party with him. I almost did, but I had a gallery opening that night. What if I’d… Would he…?”
“I don’t know.”
I closed my eyes and took a slow breath. Giorgio didn’t ask me to say more, he just held me.
After a few deep breaths, I looked around the room. Seeing the pieces of the broken couch made me smile even though I was still scared and angry.
“I guess we need to tell my mom’s friend about that,” I said, tilting my head toward the mess.
“My boss will pay for it. Don’t worry about it.”
“Do you have a budget for broken furniture?”
He laughed. “In our line of work, a lot of things tend to break, though not usually when I’m sleeping on them.”
“You mean you’ve never broken a bed before? I find that hard to believe.”
He squeezed me tighter against him. “Not everyone’s as enthusiastic as you are.”
“I’m not always that enthusiastic.”
“Really?”
“Are you fishing for compliments?”
Giorgio brushed his thumb over my cheek. “No. I just… You’re so full of life and energy, and I assumed that was normal for you.”
“I’m not saying I’m quiet. I don’t lie there and think of England.”
He snorted. “I should hope not.”
“But it’s different with you.”
When I felt him stiffen, I knew I was likely pushing too hard.
He brushed my hair back and kissed my temple as if trying to soften his reaction. “Tell me more about Alan. How did you meet? Why did you break it off?”
“I figured my mother shared all my private details with you when she hired you.”
“She did, or at least what she knows of them, but I’d rather hear it from you. Your perspective is going to be different than hers.”
“I was participating in a charity art auction. Alan approached me and gave me his card. He owns a very well-known gallery. He was attractive, and like most artists, having someone interested in my work made me feel good. He brought me a drink and fawned over me for the rest of the night, but he didn’t push things. He didn’t even ask me out that night.”
Giorgio was so tense. I turned and brushed my lips over his. “It’s okay. You’re keeping me safe.”
I loved the bright smile he gave me. I didn’t think he shared smiles like that with many people.
“He called the next day, saying he wanted to follow up. I should’ve told him to talk to my agent, that my bookings were done through her, but I agreed to meet with him. He wanted to take me to dinner to talk about the sort of pieces I might show. So I went. At first, we did talk about my art, but then he started asking more personal questions, nothing off-putting, though. The more I drank, the more I loosened up. He was charming, older, sophisticated. And I was an idiot.”
“No.” Giorgio encouraged me to look at him. “You were manipulated. You wanted your art career to take off, and he preyed on that. You’ve struggled for your independence, so of course he would guess you’d be interested in someone older, someone mature who treated you like you were too.”