He didn't. He simply said, ""Get some rest."" and walked toward the elevator. ""Marco."" she called softly. He paused. She searched for the right words. ""I don't even know what to thank you for."" He looked back, expression unreadable. ""Then don't thank me yet."" The elevator doors closed, leaving her alone in a silence so deep she could hear her own heartbeat. Outside the rain finally stopped.
Lisa sat on the edge of the guest room bed staring at the city lights below wondering who exactly had just brought her here, her savior or her captor. And somewhere far below in the same building's garage, Marco Conti spoke quietly into his phone. "Keep a car on her building." he said. ""No one goes near it. Not the Bennetts, not their men, not anyone."" He ended the call eyes on the skyline. He didn't know it yet, but this waitress the girl with fire behind her fear was about to change everything.
Lisa didn't remember falling asleep. One second she was sitting on the edge of the bed in the guest room staring at the city through floor-to-ceiling glass, his voice still in her head, her heart still racing from the way he said, "You're staying here." And the next, she woke up in sheets softer than anything she'd ever touched. For a moment, she didn't know where she was. The ceiling wasn't stained.
The air didn't smell like old frying oil. No thudding footsteps from the neighbor upstairs. No sirens, no yelling through thin walls. Just quiet. Real quiet.
Her throat felt tight. It wasn't just that the bed was comfortable, it was that she felt safe. Then memory hit hard, fast. Olivia's spit, her name online, Bennett's men in the diner, Marco's hand on her wrist, calm, certain. "Sweetheart, "I'm not asking."" She sat up too fast.
She was wearing a t-shirt she didn't remember putting on. Not hers. Hers were old, soft from too many washes. This one was new, black, long enough to brush her thighs. She swallowed.
Did he undress me? Before panic could rise, she noticed something on the nightstand. Her uniform folded neatly, still buttoned to the top. Her bra and jeans folded, too. And a small white note leaning against a glass of water.
You fell asleep. I told Rosa not to wake you. M. Her shoulders loosened an inch. "Okay."
So, he hadn't touched her while she slept. He'd had someone else, Rosa, take care of her. That helped. That helped a lot. But, it also meant something else.
There are people who work for him in here, in his home. Her eyes moved around the room. The guest bedroom was bigger than her entire apartment. Pale walls, clean lines, thick curtains pulled half open to the skyline. There was a chair in the corner beside a low table with a small tray, painkillers, a bottle of water, and she blinked, a protein bar.
He left food for me. That shouldn't have made her feel the way it did. She slid out of bed slowly. The floor was warm under her bare feet, like the whole place had its own quiet heat under the marble. She padded to the mirror in the corner and almost didn't recognize herself.
Puffy eyes, hair half fallen out of her ponytail, the faint mark on her wrist from where Bennett's guy had grabbed her. She rubbed it gently, remembering the way Marco had touched the same spot and gone still. "You're staying somewhere else tonight." Not a question. A knock sounded from outside the bedroom, firm but not harsh.
Lisa startled. Yeah? The door opened a few inches and a tall man leaned in. Not "Marco." Dark hair, broad shoulders, sleeves pushed up, tattoos running over his forearm and disappearing under his shirt.
He looked like trouble but spoke like respect. "Miss Smith," he said. "I'm Luca. Boss asked me to check if you're up." Boss.