“I want you to watch her. Track her. Keep your eye on her, make sure none of those Americans take advantage of her.”
Jesus Christ.
Piero’s eyes narrowed. “She’s my whole world, Enzo. Understand?”
Oh, I understood, alright. It’s why my apartment overlooks hers. Why I’ve got video feeds set up in my office that go directly to my phone, and a tracker that shows me where she is at all times. I know every contact in her phone, every class that she’ll take, and she doesn’t have a clue who I am.
Yet. She will soon.
Emilio sits in a chair on the balcony and props his feet up on the little table. I grab the course syllabus I’m working on, shove his feet off the table, and sit beside him.
“I still can’t believe they have you teaching criminal justice. Is that a joke?”
I growl in response. The irony is not lost on me, either. I have to admit, I enjoy the job, though.
“Piero thought I could pull it off.”
Emilio takes a drag from his smoke.”You can pull it off alright.” He glances below to the balcony. “Tell you what I’d like to pull off…”
I try to ignore him. Maybe he’ll shut up if I don’t respond.
“You should come,” he presses. “It’s still August, for Christ’s sake.”
“And school’s in session soon.”
“What, a few days? Do that later. Job’s just a cover anyway.”
I shake my head at him and don’t bother to reply.
“Listen,” he continues. “I’m meeting up with a girl who’s got a twin. Gorgeous. Buy the girls a drink and you’ve got it made. One for each of us. See? I share.”
“You were supposed to be here on official business. Yet you’re fuckin’ around, trying to get laid?”
“Doesn’t mess with business,” he says. “Secured a shipment in Chelsea this afternoon, heading straight to Sicily by dawn. Signed over possession of four pieces of prime real estate this weekend, and saw to it a special delivery from the boss made it safely into the right hands.” He puffs out smoke. I watch the ring grow larger and thinner, dissipating into the cloudless sky. “Not my fault some of you tight-asses can’t mix business with pleasure.”
Emilio’s the equivalent of the brainiac who rolls out of bed and aces his test without studying.
The humidity’s making sweat pour off my body. I get to my feet. “I’m taking a shower. Let yourself out when you’re done.”
I take my phone with me.
I’m bound and determined not to think of her when I strip off my sweaty clothes and toss them in the hamper in the bathroom.
I stare at the feed. Christ.
She’s slathering tanning oil all over her skin. I swallow hard. Doesn’t she know the sun’s rays are too distant for a tan this time of day? We aren’t on the Mediterranean anymore. Maybe someone should explain it to her. Maybe she needs a little...education. Poor girl, so far from home, and she thinks she’s all alone. I saw her crying last night.
When I came here, I was convinced she was nothing but a spoiled little daddy’s girl. But I’ve been watching her. Yeah, she’s all about her Instagram and selfies, the Snap-whatever thing she does. But even though she’s surrounded by friends, she’s alone at night.
Is she lonely?
Is she homesick?
Or is something else bothering her?
I try to see her as my charge, my ward...my student. She needs my protection.
I try not to think about that little silver ring in her bellybutton, or the tantalizing lower back tat she’s got just above the curve of her ass.
I put the shower on as cold as it will go and step inside.
I force myself not to think of Mia. God, I can’t do that. I can’t go there.
But she’s seeped into my mind. The sound of her beautiful, melodic voice. Those full, cherry-colored lips and seductive, long lashes. The thick, honey-colored hair that hangs down her back like satin. Her vivacious, virginal curves. The way she looked when she cried, like she needed someone to hold her. To comfort her.
I cannot be that man for her.
A sound from my phone catches my attention. I shove the shower curtain aside and look.
Mia isn’t alone anymore.
I feel my body grow tight as I glare at the screen in front of me.
Who is that asshole?
I’ve never seen him set foot in her place before, and I can tell just by looking at him he’s a class-A douchebag. Tall and skinny, with watery eyes. What she sees in a guy like him’s beyond my fucking imagination.
Why is he there?
He’s standing too close to her.
Way too fucking close.
No one gets that close to Mia. She shifts uncomfortably, and my alarm bells go off.
By the time she gets to her feet, I’m out of the shower. I don’t trust the motherfucker. If I go over, I’ll blow my cover, but that isn’t what’s most important right now.
I rinse off, towel dry, and quickly pull on a pair of jeans. I shove a Glock into a harness, yank a t-shirt over my head, then sling a hoodie on to hide what I’m packing.
I’ll come up with some reason to be over at her place between my door and hers. That guy isn’t getting anywhere closer.
Chapter 2
Mia
I have a very pretty pack of colorful pills and tabs in my hand. There’s little yellow stars, and some curvy silver moons, a little tab of paper with a pink monkey on it, some nondescript white pills. I’m so excited. Tonight is going to be amazing. My girlfriends and I are going to meet up, get wasted, hit every bar in the city. First, I’m putting together some party favors, because I am nothing if not a good hostess.
“I’m giving you first choice," Davo says. “Nothing but the best for my princess.”
“Hells yeah,” I agree. I’ve never had anything but the best, but it’s still nice to hear it. My father has made sure I've never wanted for anything. While other students rough it in the dorms, sharing rooms with each other and putting up with snoring, I have an apartment to myself overlooking the harbor. It's no French Riviera, but what is?
Davo’s not used to places like this. I can tell from the way his eyes went wide when I invited him in. His striped hemp sweater stinks faintly of body odor, and much more strongly of weed. He's got shaggy blond hair that's a couple weeks of neglect away from being dreads. He's Australian, here on a scholarship, and selling drugs to college kids in Boston.
I’ve thought about fucking him, but I’m not bored enough to do that yet. He’s not really my type. Sleeping with the help is kind of what my family does though, so one of these days I’ll probably see what the skinny stoner boy’s like in bed. Not right now though. Right now I’m shopping.
“Okay, so what’s that?” I point at a tab with a stick of dynamite printed on it.
“We call that a Cracker Jack. It’s got like, a slower come on, but then boom! once you're there, you're there, baby, all night long.” Davo rolls his hand through the air like a snake and gives me a broad, easy grin.
“Hm,” I sit back and take a sip of Prosecco. What am I in the mood for tonight? Do I want to get super hyped? Or is it more of a chill mood? I haven’t decided yet. I cross my legs and extend my manicured foot, encased in an elegant silver Manolo Blahnik pump. I’m still trying to decide if these shoes are timelessly elegant, or just out of style. Maybe if I crimp my hair, I can pull off something with a retro vibe.