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“You will leave…” I give myself a minute to think when I want him to leave. “Tomorrow. At dawn.”
“I also don’t need a babysitter,” he says, parroting her words.
It’s becoming more difficult to suppress my eye rolls. I might pop a vessel from the strain.
“The Order has a protocol for an event like this,” I remind him. “If there’s more than one person who makes up the Head, they must move apart until the perpetrator is found.”
“The protocol was written in the Middle Ages.”
“You will obey me, Corrado,” I say, sounding a little tired. My eyes start to droop.
“He should rest,” Cristina says to my brother as if I’m not here.
Wait a minute… I look down at my drink.I sedated her.
Corrado winks at me.
He sedated me too.
12
LIARS
CRISTINA
Severio seems as if he wants to continue speaking, but his eyes roll back, and he slumps against the pillow.
Alarmed, I rush to his side. “Severio?”
“I put a sedative in his drink,” his brother says. “Otherwise, he won’t rest.”
“Oh my God, Corrado. But you have no idea if you can give him anything besides what he’s already taking.”
“He’ll live.”
I adjust Severio’s head on the pillow, moving a stray piece of dark hair over his forehead. He scrunches up his nose as if it tickled him. For a moment, I get to watch him as he sleeps. Hard-edged jaw, high cheekbones, straight, masculine nose. His forehead is slightly larger, projecting an impression of high intelligence.
Corrado comes over, and I move away more hastily than I should. It makes me look guilty of ogling his gorgeous but villainous brother. I feel the heat on my cheeks and know I’m blushing.
“You like my brother,” Corrado states.
“He’s a good-looking man, is all.” I shrug. “Women look at him. It’s what we do.”
“You like him,” Corrado concludes.
“Um, not really, Corrado. He disrupted my wedding and owns my entire inheritance. Not to mention he killed Gio, whom I’ve known my entire life.”
“Aww,” Corrado says. “Poor Gio. But my brother did none of those things.”
A memory of Corrado arriving on the terrace like a hurricane and putting an entire magazine into Gio’s body enters my mind. Corrado ended Gio. What kind of man kills his own uncle?
“You killed him,” I say.
“Killed who?” he asks with a smirk.
“Gio. You emptied your magazine into him.”
“Gio was never here, and neither was I.”
