"Why would Emiliano meet you of all people?"
"We have history, Ma'am. He saved me once."
Lucrezia crossed one leg over the other and tapped her heel on the floor.
The sharp sound filled the quiet room, steady and slow.
She didn't move much. Her back stayed straight, her hands still—one on the chair's arm, the other holding a small clutch.
She looked like someone used to being in charge.
She stared straight at me.
No blinking.
No sign of what she was thinking.
Her face didn't show anything. No smile, no frown. Her hair was done perfectly—light blonde, curled at the ends.
One curl fell near her cheek, but she didn't brush it away.
I stood there, trying not to shift.
I could feel my heart pounding in my throat. I hated that feeling. It made it hard to breathe.
My arms felt too heavy, my hands cold. There was sweat under my collar. I kept my eyes on her and tried to stay still.
If I moved, even a little, I knew I'd lose focus.
She tilted her head just a little.
