nlight spilled into the room through high arched windows. Someone had left

every movement sha

ed before she

houldered, sharp-eyed, an

low

rded doors, and marble staircases. The h

lessandro stood at a bar cart, pou

said witho

a ob

r. "I have

anything," she

g ans

through the air

e photos-of her apartment, her job at the ga

You're clean. But accidents don't h

k I was p

ed you dead. Or they

ow. "I swear, I'm just a painte

rupted. "I don't allow

m n

th desperation. His, sharp with scru

he said quietly. "Th

hung bet

o Marco. "She st

tated. "Yo

a

wly. "Thank you

this for you,"

said it, he kne

tled him. And in his worl