Page 16 of Enduring Caine

Samantha was a woman of action who craved movement.

“She’ll go stir crazy in that room alone,” I said.

“I’ll have someone take her on a tour of the estate. Do you think she’d prefer the cinema, kitchen, library, or the ruins?”

I chuckled. “Definitely the ruins. She loves art and history.”

“I’ll tell Papa. We can take her on a tour to see the artwork around the house when we get back.”

“Good.” I grimaced. “Just don’t have Leonardo playing tour guide. He’s as foul as when I left, and I’d rather make this as pleasant for her as the circumstances allow.”

Cristian grinned. “He was always jealous of you and the attention Papa and I gave you. Family first, Antonio. He never understood that.”

“Family,” I muttered. “Is that why you watch every step we take?”

“What do you mean?” He was either playing innocent or had grown too accustomed to the eyes lurking everywhere.

“Not allowing her to walk upstairs on her own, the cameras in every room.” Every room? I peered toward Samantha’s door. “No one’s watching her sleep, are they?”

“Security is higher since Papa get sick.” Cristian frowned and pointed toward the top of the staircase.

Inside the elaborately carved finial, a flash of reflected light told me there was a camera hidden inside. Watching our doors.

“That one sees the entire floor,” Cristian continued. “But the additional eyes are to protect our guests, not watch them. The bedrooms are not monitored, but all public areas are.”

Perfetto. If she chose to snoop, despite my warning, she’d be caught on camera. I had to ensure she didn’t.

Chapter 8

Samantha

“Heya,Sammy!”Myoldfriend Jimmy Slater sauntered out from behind a tree, dressed in his police uniform. “How’s the doc doin’?”

We were on the Michigan State University campus in early spring, the magnolia trees in full bloom around Beaumont Tower. Sun drenched my skin from behind the trees, but it couldn’t pierce the cold crawling up my spine.

“Still in surgery, but they think he’ll make it.”

“It’s a shame what happened, David Scott trying to kill him like that.” Jimmy shook his head slowly, pulling out a lit flashlight. It was the middle of the day. Why would he do that?

The bells of the carillon in the tower chimed, a slow, sad song that told me I was alone. Antonio died. Again. And again.

Blood began trickling from Jimmy’s left eye and his nose. His lip welled up. “He kinda deserved it, though.”

“What?”

Jimmy tossed the flashlight to me and I scrambled to catch it, while he grabbed his service pistol and—

I shot up from my pillow, gulping in air.

My heart hammered against my ribs, screaming to escape, like the noises caught in my throat.

The room was dark, a faint light spilling in from underneath the door, illuminating a desk across from the burgundy monstrosity of a bed. I pressed a hand against my chest, soaking up sweat with the waffle-weaved cotton of my pajamas.

My fingers found the diamond at my neck and I held on, sipping on slow breaths to calm myself. He was fine. I was fine. Just another nightmare.

What time was it? They’d taken my phone, so I grabbed my watch from the bedside table and hit the button to turn on its light. Two in the morning.

How long could I go on like this, unable to close my eyes for more than a few hours without Antonio next to me?