Page 129 of The Serpent's Bride
“No,” he agreed smoothly. “But you asked the right question.”
My pulse thudded harder.
“He won’t find you,” Angelo promised. “I’ll make sure of it.”
“You sound very confident for someone hiding from his cousin,” I hissed.
That amused him.
“Leo and I grew up together,” he said lazily. “I know exactly how he thinks.”
The confidence in his voice unsettled me. Because Leo didn’t seem like the kind of man anyone could outmaneuver.
“Tonight,” Angelo continued. “Midnight. There’s a private underground garage beneath the Bellarosa Hotel downtown. Service entrance on Mercer Street. Bring only essentials. Nothing traceable.”
The reality of what he was proposing crashed over me all at once. This wasn’t fantasy anymore. This was escape. Real escape. Leaving Leo. My chest hurt unexpectedly at the thought. Angelo noticed the silence again.
“You still want him to come home tonight,” he realized quietly.
I shut my eyes hard. God. “I hate you for being able to tell.”
A low laugh slid through the phone.
“No,” Angelo corrected softly. “You hate that I’m right.”
Before I could answer, the elevator chimed softly somewhere down the hall. Ice flooded my veins. Sergio.
“Shit,” I whispered.
“You need to go.”
My pulse exploded into panic.
“Midnight,” Angelo repeated quickly. “Don’t lose your nerve, cara. This may be your only chance.”
The elevator doors slid open. Footsteps. Close. Too close.
“I have to go.” My heart slammed violently against my ribs.
I erased the call history, nearly dropping Sergio’s phone because my hands shook so badly. Footsteps grew louder down the hallway. Move. I shoved the phone back exactly where it had been beside the espresso cup, and froze.
Keys. Sergio’s keys sat beside the phone in a neat black leather tray. Car keys. Security fobs. Access cards. Freedom.
This was insane. Completely insane. Another set of footsteps echoed closer. I grabbed the keys anyway.
The metal felt ice-cold against my palm as I slipped them into the pocket of my silk robe seconds before Sergio appeared in the kitchen doorway. His sharp gaze landed on me. And for one horrifying second, I thought he knew.
“Everything alright?” he asked calmly.
I forced myself to breathe normally. Smile normally. Exist normally. “Yes.”
Sergio studied me carefully, dark eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. My heart hammered so violently I thought he had to hear it. Then his gaze shifted toward the untouched espresso beside the phone.
“You didn’t make coffee.”
“I changed my mind,” I shrugged.
Silence stretched. Dangerously long. Something in Sergio’s expression sharpened, instincts clearly firing beneath the calm surface.
