Chapter 13

• •HAZEL SANTORO•
• I woke to sunlight streaming through the curtains, a gentle warmth touching my face. For a moment, I was just disoriented, staring at the high ceiling above me. It took longer than I’d like to admit to remember where I was. Then it all came rushing back—Italy, the deal with Raffaele Mancini, and the 'luxurious' prison room of his mansion.
• Shoving the blanket aside, I spotted the faint stain of blood on the sheets and groaned. Great. A physical reminder of last night’s humiliation. I’d have to figure out how to clean that up before anyone noticed. The thought of someone else seeing it was mortifying enough, but having Raffaele find out? Over my dead body.