Hunter - Blaire Drake Page 0,47

onto the sill and out of the window.

He even knocked over a picture frame for good measure.

Asshole cat.

I picked up the frame and put it back in its rightful place. The sound it made as it hit the sill echoed through the house, despite its size. It didn't seem to matter how big this place was. I could hear everything. Especially today.

I was hyper-sensitive to everything, almost.

Every gust of wind. Every shutting of a door. Every single sound, no matter how quiet it was, seemed like the most deafening slam.

And I knew why.

I wasn't staring at the doorway for no reason.

Isaiah was here. My father's consigliere. His best friend. Adviser. Confidante.

The man that was the cousin of my keeper but the most trusted ally of the man who wanted me dead.

I didn't know who to believe. It seemed as though the last ten years of my life had been a lie. Like every second, minute, hour, had been nothing more than a tactical ploy to keep me alive.

Maybe it had been. Did it bother me? Yes. I'd rather have died honestly than stayed alive deceitfully.

What was life, really? It sure as hell wasn't a mixture of love and honesty. It was closer to a clusterfuck of bullshit and lies.

I wondered what my true purpose was. To lead the Romano family? To die? To live in a state of existence that was neither dead nor alive?

Where was my hero to sweep me off of my motherfucking feet? Cinderella? Snow White?

Rapunzel, you bitch.

I stared at the pistol Darien had set on the coffee table. Loaded. Safety removed. Ready to fire, he'd said. Pull the trigger, and if the aim is right, the target is minced meat. Nothing more than dinner.

It was shiny. I had a despicably bad knowledge of firearms for who I was, but he'd never complained. I knew how to fire many guns, even if I didn't know what they were or what they were capable of, but he didn't mind.

If I knew how to shoot it, I knew how to hurt someone. If I knew how to aim it and then shoot someone, I knew how to kill someone. I knew how to protect myself.

That's all that mattered to him.

I guess it was all that really mattered.

Never mind that he'd only gone to the grocery store to get some milk. You'd think he was leaving me for a week the way he'd gone on. Maybe he didn't trust Isaiah as much as he'd assured me he did.

It wasn't exactly a reassuring thought.

I sighed and picked up my bowl. It'd been sitting on the table for two hours, so no wonder Rossi wanted the milk. He'd probably watched from the start and had a kitty ticker in his head for when it'd be fair game.

I put my bowl in the sink then went upstairs to get dressed. I was aware of the real ticking of the Grandfather clock in Darien's office as I passed it. The time for Hunter and Isaiah to get here was drawing closer, and I was still wearing tiny cotton shorts and no bra. I really needed to get a move on and get ready, even if a part of me was certain I was inviting death into my house.

Then again, I'd slept with death not twenty-four hours earlier, so what did I know?

I kicked my door shut behind me. Damn it, no. I didn't want to think about being with Hunter. I didn't want to think about fucking him again. It made me... well, it turned me on. Not to mention that I didn't want to have to see him with the memory of what we did still newly fresh in my mind.

I shook my head and pulled some clothes out of the dresser. Jeans and a shirt—and a bra.

Once I was dressed properly, I brushed my hair and applied a couple of licks of mascara to my eyelashes. I looked somewhat human again, although I felt sick.

I was terrified about Isaiah's arrival, and I knew that if he was going to kill me, he was going to do it within seconds of coming face to face with me. I also had no idea how Hunter would change with the consigliere around. Would he still be Hunter, or would he be the guy who walked in my house wearing a balaclava days ago?

I didn't know.

I was afraid to find out.

I heard the buzzing of my phone as it vibrated on the kitchen island. I knew