Chapter 6: The Lake at Five

I looked at the roses.

Then I looked at Tiziano.

For ten years I'd have died for that smile pointed at me.

I was fourteen the first time I saw it, at his cousin's wedding, when he stole a tray of my mother's cookies and winked at me over it.

I'd lived on that wink for a month.

"No," I said.

"You haven't heard where."

"I don't need to hear where."

I came around the counter and picked up the nearest box of roses.

It was heavier than it looked. I got it against my hip and walked it down the hall, past the walk-in, and out the back door into the alley.

The big green bin was by the warm vent.

I tipped the box in.

When I came back for the second one, Tiziano was standing in the hallway, watching me.

"You're serious," he said.

"I'm busy. It's Sunday. We open in twenty minutes."

I picked up the second box.

His men didn't know what to do. One of them actually held the back door for me.

Tiziano followed me out into the alley.

He stood there in his camel coat in the cold, and watched me dump two hundred roses into a garbage bin.

"Two thousand," he said. "They were two thousand."

"Then you got robbed."

I went back for the third box.

Killian was in the hallway now, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. He didn't help me. He didn't need to.

When the third box was in the bin, I dusted off my hands.

Tiziano looked at the bin, then at me.

He laughed, low.

"You know what? Fine. I like this. I like you mad." He walked backward toward the mouth of the alley. "Friday. I'll send a car. You'll be curious."

He went.

I stood by the vent until my hands stopped shaking.

The vent breathed warm air on my legs, the way it always had.

Killian was very quiet in the doorway.

"What," I said.

"Nothing." He was looking at the vent. "It's cold. Come inside."

He came back at five the next morning.

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