Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 126060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Geno rattled off the bare facts like a tour guide, but he didn’t offer to take her down to the eighth floor to show her the guest bedrooms or the recreation room with its terrace.
“Geno.” Amaranthe kept her voice gentle. She didn’t want to sound as if she thought he’d lost his mind. She tilted her head up to look at him. He was extremely tall in comparison to her. She could have found him intimidating for that alone, especially since he seemed to be all muscle.
“You do realize that a doorman and a concierge have no hope of keeping a shadow rider from entering your home anytime they want to come in. You do it all the time when you’re tasked with bringing a criminal to justice.”
“I do realize that, Danzatrice Ombra. My cousin Ricco, out of necessity, invented a very handy item that blocked any shadow from getting through it. It fits beneath the door and isn’t easily removed. One can’t tell it’s there. It certainly makes our homes and bedrooms far safer.”
Relief swept through her. At least he was safe. His bodyguards couldn’t possibly protect him from a shadow rider. Hopefully, he was right, and this device could. “Ricco didn’t feel as if he needed to share this invention with the council?”
“No. We rarely share our inventions with the council, particularly when, in Ricco’s case, more than one council member was involved in harming him when he was young.”
“That was a long time ago, Geno, and those members are no longer serving,” she reminded, sharing with him that she was up on the history of the failings of the council.
“We’re on the ninth floor now,” Geno continued, ignoring the conversation regarding the council. “As you can see, the great room has a double-height ceiling, an ethanol fireplace and walls of windows overlooking the water. The home office is on this floor, as well as a gourmet kitchen, dining room, gallery and a library. Each floor has a terrace, and all floors are connected by that very cool swirling staircase, which, frankly, is a work of art and one of the reasons I had to have this apartment.”
Amaranthe had to agree she’d never seen anything quite like the stairway connecting the three floors. Now that the others were gone and she took her time to really look around the apartment, she was shocked that it wasn’t anything she would have expected to find Geno Ferraro living in. She didn’t know what that would have been, but not this.
Everything was white. High ceilings and walls of white. Long rooms that flowed into open spaces. White tiles on the floor. Glass walls. Even the dramatic swirling staircase was white. There were black accents. Thin stripes of black were here and there on the walls or ceiling. The grand piano was black. The furniture was white and very comfortable, accented by a white-and-black bowl artfully placed, but for the most part, the décor was at a minimum.
“The tenth floor consists of the master bedroom suite, spa bath, sauna and dressing areas. It also has a library and guest room with private bath.” Geno continued to sound mostly like a tour guide, not as if he had tremendous pride in his home.
Amaranthe found his method of delivery interesting since she was in his mind and knew he enjoyed his home. It was a sanctuary of sorts to him. It wasn’t simply a place for him to come back to at night and sleep. He did find a semblance of peace in the wide-open spaces and his tremendous views.
“The room I stayed in the last couple of days,” she guessed. “That must be the guest room off the library.”
He nodded. “The doctor wanted us close together. The training room and surgery are on the tenth floor as well.” He paused as he led the way to the staircase. “Why do you suppose whoever murdered the parents of riders in Croatia stopped with those murders without killing the rest of the riders? You do believe it’s their intention to kill me, don’t you? And my brothers.”
She answered without hesitation. “I didn’t at first. Not until I realized you weren’t involved. I think they intend to go back and kill the riders. They didn’t want to draw too much attention to themselves the first time. I think they were practicing to see if they could get away with it. If they drew the attention of the Archambaults by killing the younger riders, too, they would have a much more difficult time getting away with their master plan.”
“There is an elevator if you’re too tired to climb the stairs, Amara. Or I can carry you.”
She had to smile at the image in his mind. He liked the idea of carrying her. She might like the idea a little too much as well, and that was just plain silly. “I think I can manage.”