Page 32 of Knot Their Princess

“I’m Sindella Vittorio. I checked in with Mikhail Petrov. I…” my voice trails on my hesitation. What exactly do I say here? That my fake fiance is missing? That I don’t know if the man I traveled here with abandoned me across the country from home?

“Ah, Mr. Petrov had been detained in a late-night meeting, ma’am.” The concierge’s voice is smooth and upbeat. “He did ask that if you came looking for him to tell you he won’t be back up to your suite until early this morning. There’s been an issue with our phone system in the building, and he said you’d lost your cell phone.”

My eyelids flutter in surprise, and sudden relief floods my system. Petrov knows I’m not allowed to have a phone of my own. The lie about losing it actually sets me at a complete ease, knowing he had to have left the message with the front desk.

I smile on a sigh. “Ah, thank you so much. I was really… worried.”

His smile brightens. “I’m glad I could help, ma’am. Is there anything else I could do for you?”

My head is shaking, no, as I back away. “Just have a good night. And Happy New Year.”

“You as well.”

I turn on the ball of my sneaker-clad foot, let out another long sigh of relief, and start walking toward the elevator.

“Miss Sindella. How nice to see you.”

My head whips toward the rough, lightly accented voice, to find the older man I’d been introduced to earlier in the night. Giovanni, his name was.

He’s no longer in his tuxedo from earlier, instead in a stylish sweater and woolen slacks, his gray hair slightly mussed, his kind eyes shining.

I give him a closed-mouth smile. “Hello, sir. Uh, Happy New Year.”

He chuckles, head bobbing. “And to you.” He gestures to the two closest armchairs by the elevator. “Would you mind spending a minute with this old man?”

I laugh before I can stop myself, but not at him. His whole aura screams “important,” but his attitude is humble and comforting. It’s not a combination I’ve seen often.

“Sure.” It’s not like I’ll be getting much sleep in my wired state, regardless of how exhausted my body may be.

We sit, and he leans back with a sigh, smiling at me. “It’s so nice to see new faces around here.”

My laugh is instant, again, and I cringe at my lack of filter. “I’m sure you see a lot of new faces. This is Manhattan, after all.”

His responding laughter is melodic. “Indeed it is. But I meant here, within our ranks. We’re all very close and don’t often let people in.”

“You mean, in your corporations? I had heard most of them were family-owned and run, but I assumed you all hired outside people to work for you.”

There’s a certain gleam of knowing in his gaze now, and I suddenly am unsure if this is a normal conversation or some kind of test. Another one, like with Cade earlier.

And I’d been powerless then, too.

“You know, I just came out of a meeting before seeing you here,” he says while stretching his neck. “Mikhail was there, though I left before him.”

My ears perk at this. “Oh?”

“Yes. We’re all very close business associates,” he says smoothly. “Close enough for him to tell us the truth about your… relationship.”

I grimace at that news. “Oh.” Now, everyone knows just how much I don’t belong here. But, I suppose I should be thankful I don’t need to pretend I’m engaged to Petrov now.

“Not to worry, young one. Posturing is a certain evil we all endure at some point in the game.” When he rests one leg on top of the other, his hand settles on his knee. His knuckles are torn, starting to bruise, scabs forming on the abrasions.

I know this look very well. But Giovanni doesn’t fit the bill of warrant-less violence. I don’t know how I know, I just do. My senses are telling me so. And I know better than to question.

Giovanni’s gaze follows mine to his hand, and he quickly covers it with his other, which is even more torn up. He winds up tucking them at his sides against the plush arms.

I catch his eyes then, gesture at his hands with my chin. “If you don’t mind me saying, I hope they got it worse than you.”

Silence stretches for long enough that I think I may have said too much, but then Giovanni laughs and laughs, uncovering his hands to wipe them down his face. “I like you, Sindella. You’d fit in well here.”