Page 74 of Wicked Auction

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

“Has he seen you?”

She shakes her head.

“Then why do you look like you've seen a ghost?”

“It’s all surreal. I don’t know who to trust.” She releases a shuddering breath. “And I don’t feel safe, not yet.”

Fire races through my veins. I know what it’s like to live life on edge. I know what it’s like to crave safety.

“This is what we're going to do,” I say. “I'm going to find Declan's contact now, get whatever information I can, and then we run to plan B. Understood?”

I spent years in prison. I know how to play the long game.

She nods and swallows hard.

“Good girl.” I lean in and tip her jaw up with my hand. “You're doing so well.” I don't wait for her response. I take her hand and walk.

I finally see the man in the gray suit when my heart comes to a stuttering halt.

He's standing ten paces away from Giuseppe Esposito.

Chapter Sixteen

VALENTINA

I close my eyes when Torin’s hand comes to the back of my neck. I breathe more easily.

“He's too close to my brother,” I whisper.

He doesn't answer right away. I feel the tension shift in him, the almost imperceptible stillness that means he's running numbers in his head. I know what those numbers look like. I've run them myself.

I keep my voice low, my eyes forward, and my face arranged into something that looks like a woman who belongs here. “If he sees my face, it's all over.”

Torin's jaw tightens. He doesn't tell me I'm wrong.

I watch him weigh it without looking at him directly, because looking at him directly would break the pretense. Few choices remain, and none of them are good. I can see that much just from the set of his mouth.

Then he makes the call.

“You're going straight outside,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. He reaches into his pocket and presses something cold into my hand—a knife, small enough to conceal, light enough that I don't flinch when I take it. “Use this if you need to. Talk to nobody. I’ve arranged for a car to be waiting, keys in the ignition, in case we need a quick getaway.” His jaw tightens. “And it looks like we might. I'll meet you there in five.”

My pulse races. I nod. “And if you're not there in five?”

“I'll be there.”

I don’t like that answer. I like a contingency plan.

“What do you tell yourself? Let’s hear it.”

“I'm safe,” I say. “I'm safe, and nobody's going to hurt me.”

My voice wobbles on the second pass. I hear it happen. I hate that I hear it.

He holds my gaze for one beat longer than necessary, and then I'm moving through the crowd, through the noise, not looking left, not looking right, not looking at the man across the room who shares my blood and my name and has no idea I'm twenty feet away from him.