"House hunting?"

The words fell from Giovanni’s lips like a slab of iron, slicing through the midnight quiet of the front porch. He stepped down off the concrete ledge, his tall frame blocking out the overhead light, his dark eyes locked onto Rosalia like a predator zeroing in on cornered prey. "House hunting, Rosalia? At midnight?"

Rosalia swallowed hard, clutching her handbag against her ribs to hide the trembling of her arms. The drug was still lingering in her veins, making her head feel light, but the sheer terror of Giovanni’s fury cleared enough of the fog for her to stick to her plan.

"Yes... house hunting," she echoed, forcing...