Chapter 8

Marcello stepped out of the car, and Mariana followed behind him. The house was larger than it looked from the outside. The back door entered the kitchen, with steel appliances and low lighting.

An office sat to the left of Mariana, with the credenza desk visible through the cracked door. Except for that, there was a small bathroom and laundry room at a corner, with a staircase running upstairs. It was simple, clean, and masculine.

She swallowed when he shut the door with a password. He turned to drop his keys on the kitchen counter.

She stood frozen next to the door while he poured himself a drink from the minibar near the windows. This was actually the first time that they were alone—actually alone in a house, in a country, and in a city. Mariana knows no one except for him.

The curtains were closed, and only small shards of light got through, leaving the room dimly lit.

Mariana's legs trembled because of the way he watched her as he leaned against the small bar, and the longer