Chapter 9: Ettore's POV: The Order

Ettore's POV

I had waited in the cold behind the hedge for forty minutes before the ambulance came.

My father's house had a laundry window at the back, low to the ground and hidden from the drive.

I had climbed out of it myself at fifteen, every night for a year.

I was the bastard son the old Don let sleep in the servants' wing.

I knew which sash stuck and which gravel path made noise.

The gate guard was a man whose mother's rent I paid.

He had sent me word of the ambulance five minutes before it turned in.

I texted Carina and put my phone away.

Two men in canvas jackets walked the lawn with a flashlight, and I held my breath until the beam passed over the hedge.

Wet cold soaked through my knees.

The ambulance turned in at the gate with its lights off, which told me everything about who had ordered it.

Then I stood in the dark and thought about the last order Dario had given me.

"Take it from her drawer," he had said. "Nobody gets hurt."

I had done it, and then I had stood at the foot of her hospital bed holding flowers.

She had thanked me.

I hadn't slept properly for three months after that.

A sash creaked above me.

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