Chapter Twenty-Three

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Chapter Twenty-Three

Jane paced around the bedroom, ringing her hands.

She almost felt like a prisoner, which was ridiculous. She could leave any time she wanted. She could go downstairs, and nothing was stopping her from leaving this house and walking back to Silvio's home and pretending she'd never arrived.

Except that totally wouldn't work for her right now. She was already here. Derrick was no doubt telling Silvio she'd demanded to come when he'd asked her to stay, and Martina had seen her and she didn't appear too impressed having Jane in this house either.

And then there was that mysterious man who had called her back at the restaurant.

Right. She shouldn't leave on her own. Just because she'd made the stupid decision to come here and make a nuisance of herself didn't mean she had to make another stupid decision and leave here when it was clearly not safe for her to do so.

She just had to wait here. Trapped like a rat.

A trap she'd put herself in.

Jane rubbed her arms.

God, why did she have to be such a nosy busybody? Wasn't that the word for it?

Her heroines were always so much stronger than this. They were always so much more confidant with absolutely everything they did.

Her heroines wouldn't have done things like this. They would have demanded the hero take them along in the first place instead of coming along with the best friend, guard, employee, or whatever Derrick really was.

Her heroine would have gotten to the bottom of the secrets being kept, and the hero would have realized it was a mistake to keep those secrets in the first place before they made up.

With amazing sex, of course.

But some secrets didn't belong to other people to share. Whose secret could Silvio be trying to keep? The only person Jane could think of was one of his brothers. But if this didn't concern Isla, then that meant it wasn't Arturo.

Maybe the other one? The mean brother who always made a pest of himself and tried to get between Isla's and Arturo's relationship?

That made sense. Jane did kind of have him pegged as the villain in this particular story.

But even if he was, no matter what small or big things she'd heard or had been told about him, nothing she could come up with was an excuse proper enough to justify her being here and interfering with what was essentially a family affair.

Jane went to one of the many plastic, multicolored storage units. She opened one of the little drawers and smiled at the sight of one of Isla's newest bracelets. She picked it up, looking at the colors, wishing she was as talented artistically as Isla was.

Jane liked writing stories, but words on a page didn't come off as beautiful as the colors and stone Isla put together.

She dropped the bracelet and nearly knocked over the unit altogether when she heard the door slide open behind her.

Jane caught the bracelet and managed to keep any of the little drawers from falling out of their placeholders, but the sight of Isla didn't immediately make her heart calm down.

Isla's smile was soft, as though she pitied Jane for having come here, and maybe was a little confused by it as well.

Made sense. It was well passed midnight, and while Jane stood there in an expensive gown from dinner, which was probably disheveled from the sex she'd had in the limo, Isla wore a housecoat and pink slippers with fuzzy cat ears.

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