the top of the grand staircase and look down into the foyer, with its lights dimmed for the night. A lone bodyguard waits at the bottom of the steps.
He looks young. My age. Maybe a little older. I’ll take my chances with him. I can’t stay here anyway—the longer I stand here, the better the chances I sneeze and startle him, which would not be great.
A quick retreat back into the hall, and I try to make my footsteps more audible on the way to the stairs. The man at the bottom turns his head right away. He reaches toward his back. They’re all carrying guns. My heart beats faster. I understand why they have to have them, especially now, but I wish they didn’t.
“Hi,” I whisper down the steps, giving him a shy wave.
“Miss Constantine. Good evening.” His face is tense and serious. Right. Because he’s been given specific orders about what to do if I try to run for it.
I let him get a good look at me. If I was going to run, I wouldn’t do it in ballet flats. “Can you point me toward the kitchen?”
His brow furrows. “Give me a moment, please.” The bodyguard turns away and murmurs something into his earpiece. I thought he was too young to be ex-anything. Now I don’t know. I’m still second-guessing it when he turns back around. “I’ll take you there now.”
As soon as my feet hit the floor, his hand is on my back, steering me across the foyer. Another bodyguard crosses paths with us on the way. I can’t help craning my neck to see where he goes, and I’m right—he’s the replacement. The second man takes his position at the foot of the stairs, looking like he was always there.
My bodyguard for the moment drops his hand. “This way.” We got to the end of the hall and turn left. I’ve never been past Leo’s office, but this guy has, and he’s confident about it.
The kitchen turns out to be halfway down the hall behind a set of swinging doors. It’s nowhere near the dining room. There must be a smaller kitchen next to that, or a staging area…something. Something only a person as rich as Leo would have. The bodyguard pushes open the door with one palm and scans the space, then beckons me through.
With the low lights, I thought I was going to be alone. There are two people here. Gerard, and the chef. Both of them look up at me. Neither looks surprised. “Miss Constantine,” says Gerard.
“Haley. Please.” I run a hand over my hair. “Call me Haley. And I was wondering if there was anything to eat.”
The chef laughs, easy and bright, and some of my awkwardness dissipates. He extends a hand across the big stainless steel prep table in the center of the space, and I step forward to shake it. “Timothy. I work nights here. What would you like?” He turns back to a set of two restaurant-sized fridges and opens one, the lights picking up the auburn in his hair. “We probably have most of what you could want.” I can’t tell how old Timothy is. He looks young, but he doesn’t seem young. He also doesn’t seem new here.
I don’t know if that’s good or bad. Maybe he’s loyal, too, and they’ve already sent a message to Leo telling him where I am.
Gerard appears at my side with a wooden stool in his hands. He sets it in front of the prep table as Timothy says, “Any ideas?”
“Eggs. And toast.” It seems right to start with breakfast.
“Bacon?”
My stomach growls. “Yes. Please.”
Timothy makes more than I could possibly eat, and it’s not until he pulls out three plates that my selfish, hungry brain realizes they’re going to eat with me. Good. Fine. I’ll have a weird midnight dinner with Leo’s head of security and his night chef. All of this has to be against some rule Leo’s made for me, like don’t go down to the kitchen after you called me a stranger.
My face heats at the memory. You know everything. I don’t, though, do I? I don’t know everything there is to know about Leo Morelli. If I did, maybe I wouldn’t feel like such an asshole right now. If I did, maybe I wouldn’t feel like taking the stairs two at a time to his room and pounding on the door until he let me in. Maybe, if there was no mystery left, I wouldn’t want